Page 30 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

My heart kicked into a gallop. I turned to face her, finding her gaze glazed over in vision. Then, with a violent whoosh, her breath returned. She slammed her bare feet onto the dirty floor mat, eyes clearing as she focused on me.

“No.” Blinking, that little stress-v imprinted between her brows. I might have still been the coven’s rookie, but I knew better than to interrupt. So I waited, watching her as much as the road.

“Turn onto the bridge, flip a u-ie on the other side, and park on it toward the mouth.”

I flicked my gaze up the road, spotting a narrow iron-and-wood bridge arching over the river.

This couldn’t be good.

Leaning into the accelerator, I locked onto my target. The urgency in her voice left no room for doubt. Her eyes returned to that other place as we sped toward the metal monstrosity. I followed her instructions exactly, the van clunking over wooden slats. When we parked at the mouth, Alvara seemed to come back to herself. She blinked at me, then gave a little shrug that seemed to say, Here we go. My pulse ticked faster, anticipation warming my veins.

Still silent, my wife rubbed her palms together as though warming them. Then, rotating her hands, she pressed her long fingers down the opposite forearm. She inhaled deeply through her nose, eyes closing, and the van rattled as she summoned her power.

Her hands splayed, fingers dragging down her arms.

Then, she moved—fluid, precise. Her left arm rotated up, palms aligning. I sat, spellbound. I’d never seen any of them conjure power quite so demonstratively.

The van shook. The trees trembled. The wind roared.

Her wind.

Holy shit.

Alvara’s eyes snapped open just as a black truck sped around the bend.

“Now,” she commanded, voice quiet but absolute.

I hit the accelerator, whipping our van out onto the road behind the lifted black pickup.

“There are children in there,” she said, her voice laced with anger.

Then, the truck hit black ice.

I slammed on the brakes. The world stretched into slow motion and high speed all at once. The truck fishtailed, spinning out of control, teetering on the edge of the ravine.

Too late, I threw out my hands, desperate to stop the momentum⁠—

But before it could tip over the embankment, the wind slammed into it, and Alvara spoke a quiet prayer as she yanked her cupped hand back.

The truck crashed back onto all four tires.

Windows shattered. Screams filled the air before abruptly cutting off as the world went eerily silent.

And before the tires had fully halted, Alvara was already running. Barefoot. Straight toward the vehicle, suspended in…suspended in time.

“Holy shit,” I said again as Ally threw open the back door. A young girl—maybe three years old—sat in her car seat, eyes squeezed shut as shattered glass rained down, her little mouth open in alarm. A thin red line had begun to form across her arm.

“Get the boy,” she ordered over her shoulder, knocking glass onto the floor mats. She plucked a shard from her skin and tossed it onto the seat between the children.

I rounded the truck bed and yanked open the other door, my mind still caught in the bizarre, impossible amazement of what was happening. The boy—one, maybe two years old—was still rear-facing. His tiny reflexes had only managed to scrunch his eyes into a squint. I cleared the air around him, brushing glass off his seat and onto the floor. A few pieces landed on his lap.

Alvara hissed, and I looked up to see her shaking her head.

“The pieces will carry the momentum of the crash when we leave,” she warned. “They might cut through the blanket.”

Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that. Then again, I’d never fucked with time before.

Holy shit. She had frozen time.