Page 143 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

My wife. The martyr.

Blinking back the sting in my eyes, I growled, “No,” and turned toward the wards. Her energy rose behind me, swelling with frustration, vibrating off her like static.

“Dammit, August, where are you going?” she shouted, boots thudding behind me as she followed me up the stairs.

“Out,” I huffed, flinging open the cabin door—and nearly barreling into Fae, who was channeling water into Kingsley’s plants with wide, startled eyes.

“We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

“From where I’m standing, you won’t even have a legitimate conversation about this. So how can we be in the middle of one?”

“Oh shit, mom and dad are fighting,” Alec whispered—loudly. Ally flipped him off. I didn’t even look at him. Didn’t care. Every last one of my fucks was accounted for. And the woman who owned them? She was about to hurl herself into hell.

“August!”

“Nope,” I muttered.

“August,” she hissed through gritted teeth, chasing me up the stairs while Alec and Fae whispered God knows what behind us. I pushed through the cracked door to our room and went straight to the closet, ripping off my clothes as I moved.

I needed to hurt something. Someone. Preferably whoever was responsible for even suggesting Ally should die.

God, what I’d give to get my hands on Adrastos right now.

I’d just grabbed my battle blacks when Ally strode in, yanked them from my hands, and hurled them onto the bed.

“Look at me.”

“I am,” I said flatly, shoving my jeans to the floor. “And I see a woman so terrified of being loved as deeply as she loves, she won’t even let her family try.”

Gaping, Ally watched me cross to the bed and yank on my Grayshellian armor.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I need to hit something,” I growled, shoving my arms through the sleeves.

“Not an answer.”

I dropped onto the bed and shoved my feet back into my boots. “Has yours changed?”

She didn’t respond. Just stared, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched.

“That’s what I thought.”

“So tell me, August—” Ripping off her shirt, Ally hurled it to the floor. I turned toward the door, afraid if I looked at her—really looked—I’d buckle. My need to touch her, hold her hips, kiss and cherish her, would smother my fury. “—who are we sacrificing then? If I find a thread where we survive, who dies in our place? Who falls on blades I could absorb?”

“I don’t know. But it’s not just our choice to make, is it?” I strapped Solskari daggers into their sheaths, the steel humming like it shared my unrest.

“Yes it is,” she snapped, her voice edged as she stomped into her boots.

I glanced down at her untied laces and scowled. “What are you doing?”

“Going with you, dammit. Isn’t it obvious? We do this together. Always.”

“You say that, but I don’t think it means the same thing to you as it does to me.” I shoved open the door and barreled down the stairs, shaking my head as she cursed under her breath behind me. The moment I cleared the wards, I jumped—just as stubborn hands latched onto my arm.

Our boots hit asphalt for all of a second before another twist of space dropped us back into snow. Only…this wasn’t Kingsley’s.

It was the lake house.