Page 167 of Bound By Fury

I release another blast as hands wrap around me, itchy, blood-red robes scratching against my face as I fight.

Pulling the blade from where I tucked it away, I nick one of them in the side before it’s yanked from me and sent clattering across the floor.

They drag me back toward the middle of the room and shove me into Malachi.

“I’m only going to tell you one more time,” Alastair says, much too calm. “Do. Not. Run.”

“This is insane!” I scream, pushing against Malachi on instinct, all rational thought completely absent from my mind.

“Lucas!” Alastair calls. “Grab the girl.”

Malachi snarls from behind me. “No! She’s mine! I decide what happens to her.”

But Lucas is already behind me, his deep voice even deeper somehow and slithering beneath my skin. “Not anymore, Bro.”

“I’m not your fucking brother!” Malachi growls.

“Sorry. Stepbro,” Lucas deadpans.

I turn to him as he grabs me, fingers digging too roughly into my arm. “How could you?” I ask, hand raising to slap him as Malachi rips us apart, shoving me behind his back.

I find Maureen still struggling on the floor and breathe a small sigh of relief that she’s still alive.

I’m going to save you, I think.

“Don’t touch her!” Malachi growls.

I lean past him. “What is wrong with you?!” I snarl, snapping in Lucas’s face. The boredom vanishes. In its place is something malignant.

He reaches for me again, and Malachi shifts, his hand flinging out, the butt of his palm connecting with Lucas’s mouth.

Lucas spits bright red against the chapel floor and wipes the excess blood away with his thumb.

I take a step back.

“Y-you’re a monster!” I stutter.

His lips pull into a lopsided grin, crystal-blue eyes leaving Malachi’s face and settling on my own.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

I scoff, looking around the room. At the people stationed at every exit. At Alastair, who watches us curiously.

Lucas laughs, but it’s humorless. “You have no idea what it’s like. Living in another person’s shadow.”

I shake my head. He can’t be serious.

“All my life, I lived beneath Kai’s boot. Everywhere we went, I begged for people to see me. But they never did. My own father resented me because I’m not a Guardian. He hated that I wouldn’t be the one by his side when he became the imperial sergeant. I thought maybe you would understand how that feels. Never quite being enough of something. Except for me. You were always enough for me.”

Alastair doesn’t interrupt Lucas but instead looks on with amusement.

“When you showed up this year, you were sizzling with power. You didn’t even need to be a Guardian to feel it. And finally, finally you saw me as I was. Finally you saw me the way I saw you. But it still wasn’t enough. Can’t you see it? How we’re the same? I’m tired of being powerless. I’m sick of feeling like I’m never enough! Power isn’t just a manifestation of magic. It’s a mindset.” He tilts his head, eyebrow quirking as he leans back on his right foot, taking on a defensive stance.

“I—I hate you,” I whisper, backing away until Alastair clears his throat. I freeze.

Regret flashes across Lucas’s eyes, but he narrows them just the same. “That’s not fair.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Alastair interrupts, annoyance lacing his tone. “Lucas is right. I never envisioned him as my successor. But what Kai lacks in courage, in devotion, Lucas makes up for in passion and drive. My own son of different blood…” He glances at his companions. “I have a plan for him yet.”