Page 383 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

His piercing gaze swept over me, and then his hands came to my face, cupping my cheeks. His lips moved, forming words I couldn’t make out. I raised one trembling hand to my ear, fingers coming away slick and red.

Aren’s palms pressed over my ears like muffs, and cool, tingling healing magic bled into my skull.

And the world came roaring back.

“Fuuuuck,” I cried, throwing my hands over my ears to stifle the noise.

Screaming. Dogs howling. Alarms blaring. The thunderous collapse of broken homes.

Fire still crackled, chewing through the remains.

Aren pulled me into his chest, arms wrapping around me in an embrace that said: you’re safe.

And for a breath, I believed it. I let myself feel it—his warmth, the weight of him, the drum of my own heartbeat syncing to his.

But then he shifted, placing his body in front of mine, bringing reality crashing back.

Nathara.

Horror surged in my gut. The block was leveled—nothing left but scattered protection bubbles. I looked for her, but⁠—

She’s not here. Alvara’s voice rang clear in my mind, sharp as a bell. I flinched at the intrusion—but then relief struck. Nat was safe.

I blinked hard, trying to push down the panic.

This was my fault. All of this.

No time for that, sweetheart. We have to go.

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, glaring at Adrastos. “And get the fuck out of my head.”

His mouth tightened, eyes going glossy and distant.

How hadn’t I seen it? The way he’d spaced out while watching TV. Staring at the ocean. All of it. He’d never been who he claimed to be.

The Grayshellians moved as one, drawing their pistols with practiced ease. Alec stepped in front of Fae, just as Aren stood guard over me. The Porters formed a line—each slightly angled, guarding the group with silent coordination. Their shields had held. None bore even a scratch.

Bellamy’s gaze flicked to their hands. Then to Alvara.

Some silent exchange passed between them had her sneering. With a huff, she pulled a second handgun from a back holster and tossed it to him. He caught it, checked the chamber, cocked it, and aimed it forward. As if he belonged. As if he hadn’t been the enemy all along.

Aren bristled, spine stiffening—clearly displeased that she had armed his enemy. His rival. I echoed the sentiment, betrayal still eating at my nerves.

What the fuck was going on? What weren’t they telling me? Nothing made sense.

Aren’s hand reached back, and I grabbed it like a lifeline, breathing steadier as his calloused fingers curled around mine. Then we were moving—shifting into some kind of formation I hadn’t been taught. I stayed tucked against his back as Grayshell led us through the wreckage of the house, toward the yard where a handful of startled survivors were staggering from their homes.

The wards. That’s why we hadn’t jumped yet. Even with the house obliterated, the old magic still bound us within the perimeter.

A lot of fucking good they’d done.

We jumped off the foundation one at a time. Aren went first, then turned and caught me at the waist, lifting me easily, setting me gently on what was left of the lawn.

I felt like a ghost haunting the skeleton of the place I’d fallen in love—with Aren. With my shadows. With his family. Gone.

Numbness settled into my bones as I took in the smoldering ruin through drifting walls of smoke.

Gunshots cracked across the block. Bellamy had moved several paces ahead, quickly picking off demons with cursed ammunition. He shot with precision—eliminating targets sprinting toward fleeing humans, and the Grayshellians did the same, covering escape routes.