Page 232 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Knees in the dust.

My chest warmed when I saw green eyes blinking up at me, dazed but focused. She was alive. Suddenly, that was all that fucking mattered.

Fuck me, why did I care? If the Wings or the Guard got their hands on her, she was as good as dead anyway.

“You’re…bleeding,” she croaked, her hand reaching to swipe the blood from my lips.

“Look who’s talking,” I muttered, pressing against her split brow with one hand while the other braced her side. Blood soaked through where her tac suit had been ripped, revealing torn ivory skin.

Her lids fluttered.

“Absolutely not,” I growled. “You’re not leaving me in this mess.”

“Would serve you…right,” she whispered, but a new round of howls was fast approaching. I slipped an arm under her shoulders and hauled her upright. “No time,” she wheezed.

“Get up,” I ordered, securing her pack to mine and throwing her arm around my shoulders. Her whimper of pain hit me like a knife to the gut—her agony somehow mine to bear in this hellhole.

“Ribs,” she croaked. “Think it…broke a rib.”

Jaw clenched, I scanned ahead. A flicker of light reignited my focus.

“Come on. Almost there. You’ve gotta be a pain in my ass tomorrow.”

She made a pathetic little noise—half laugh, half sob—and stumbled with me. Another screech chased us down the hall. I tightened my grip, drew a blade in my free hand, and sped up.

We reached another rotunda, this one smaller, a cracked glass roof letting in a haze of daylight. Five tunnels.

Freya was losing blood fast, basically dead on her feet until I jostled her. “Focus, Porter. Which path?”

She blinked dazedly. Those pretty lips parted as she looked between them and nodded. “Second to the left.”

I hauled her forward, praying she knew what she was doing. Her feet barely moved, her near deadweight slowing us too much.

I bent and scooped her into my arms.

Panic surged when she didn’t protest.

“Freya?”

“Hurts,” she breathed.

“I know. Focus. We’re getting out of here,” I promised, even as the snarls bounced up the halls and echoed through the rotunda behind us.

If those fuckers caught up, I’d try to bottleneck them at the entrance, but that’d only buy time. And Freya…

Freya wouldn’t last long.

Silver lining—no one would have to bury us. We’d already picked our grave.

I snorted at the fucked-up thought and pushed on. Her breathing too shallow, her body limp.

I adjusted my grip, tucking her head against my chest, shielding her as I picked up the pace.

She whimpered, and I gritted my teeth as pain echoed through my chest.

“Don’t bitch out on me now, little Wraith,” I muttered. “We gotta run, yeah?”

“Fuck me,” she whimpered.