Page 125 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“You hesitated in the rafters. Again in the shop. You had the gun. You could’ve killed him, taken the magazine, and run. Why didn’t you?”

To my immense relief, there was no judgment in his tone. Just quiet, infuriating accuracy.

And he was right.

I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right.

Some frail, traitorous part of me couldn’t bring myself to deliver that kind of death. Not again. Not like Darius’s.

“Your soft heart will get you killed,” Lana chastised. I couldn’t argue with her. It always had.

A sword pledging loyalty to my king.

Mercy where I should lend none.

Again, when I trusted Reagan.

The image of my calling’s body flashed through my mind—the blank emerald eyes, the thunder-split sky above him.

Guilt twisted deep in my gut.

“I don’t know,” I finally admitted, the words dragging across my unwilling tongue like glass.

Lana didn’t miss a beat. “If you’re still categorizing a grown man with blood on his hands as a child, perhaps Aren was foolish to deploy⁠—”

“It’s not that,” I snapped, rising from my chair to pace. “He’s ascended. He kills for them. He’s collateral.”

“Then what?”

“I…” My voice trailed off as my mind drifted back to that warehouse. The advantage had been mine. I was above them before the shadows poured in. I’d turned, inexplicably, just in time to see him materialize from the dark—ducking low, fast and fluid, slipping free of the blade meant for him.

My heart…twisted. Twisted with fear that wasn’t mine.

As the others swarmed and robbed him of his cover, as that glowing gun aimed for him—I was already moving. Sprinting across the narrow beam before I’d even made the choice. No plan. No certainty I’d reach him in time. Only that paralyzing, unshakable sense that if I didn’t, something irreversibly catastrophic would happen.

Fate weaves its own golden threads—braiding soul to soul over centuries, through lives, through blood and dust and time. None of it accidental.

That thread had yanked me forward, sent me diving from the rafters like a living blade to intercept a bullet that wasn’t meant for me. Even then, I hadn’t known why.

“Fate,” I whispered.

“And was it ‘fate’ that had you coming back here?” Lana asked, more softly now, exchanging a glance with Ansel that was one part worry, one part warning.

I nodded.

“Aren told us you’d open Pandora’s box if given the opportunity. Is the prince related to Pandora, by chance?” Ansel asked mildly.

My throat tightened, my entire body aching for sleep. I couldn’t lie to them, so I didn’t. I nodded again.

“Why did you accept this mission?”

Reyna’s presence just outside the door made me hesitate. But that same soul-deep thread that had pulled me off that beam lifted my chin now.

“I intend to destroy Reagan Stuart.”

“Now?” Lana demanded, her voice flat with disbelief. “Freya, we’re on the brink of catastrophe. What the hell are you thinking?”

“That I was betrayed—and only justice will quiet what’s left of my soul.”