Page 384 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Aren halted just feet from the ward’s edge, and I nearly stumbled into him. Freya and Cyrus vanished into mist, and I had to resist the familiar pull of the shadows. Not with creatures like Balorath lurking there.

Bellamy swore and closed the distance. He reached for my hand—snatching it from Aren’s grip—and pressed his firearm into my palm, his expression haunted and pleading. I nodded, bringing my other hand up to brace my grip.

“Run, Green,” he murmured. “I beg of you.”

Then he turned to Aren, his hand landing on Aren’s shoulder, earning a growl of disapproval.

“Amadeus,” Bellamy said, low and cold. The name locked my feet in place. Roots. Like magic winding through the soles of my boots, anchoring me to the scorched grass. Aren’s head snapped toward him, his eyes wild with rage.

“There’s no going back.”

Aren’s hand flexed on the pistol. He didn’t lift it, but I saw the tremor. His gaze flicked to mine, a war of pain and conflict shadowing his face.

“No. She won’t forgive you. But she will understand, eventually. Now, Commander.”

What were they talking about? Why did Aren look ready to break, and Bellamy look like he’d already shattered?

The ground trembled. In the distance, I heard music—a music box, eerily out of place.

Bellamy swore and barked Aren’s name again, this time with a note of desperation. Alvara seized him by the shoulder, yanking him into place like a human shield. He didn’t resist. His shackled hands dropped limply in front of him as she pressed a gun to his head, marching him forward.

I knew who he was. I knew what monster he was bound to. And still the sight of him like that turned my lungs to stone.

Two figures materialized from the shadows. I went still, staring at the monochrome pallor of the twins—hair like snow, skin like marble. They didn’t look human. They looked like illusions brought to life.

These were the monsters leading the charge against my people.

Fury ignited under my skin, white-hot and demanding justice—for my sisters, for Aren’s kin…for Bell.

I couldn’t believe he was one of them. Not fully. The man who had ripped evil off of me couldn’t live the same kind of sickness.

But the twins—oh, I believed it of them.

They moved like mirror images, reflections in a warped glass. Their black coats glimmered with silver thread. The only things they shared with their half-brother were their otherworldly beauty—and those onyx eyes gleaming beneath the moonlight.

They sneered at us with twin expressions of disgust.

If it came down to it—if they slipped into the shadows—only Cyrus, Bellamy, and I could follow. And if the Blood Bond still overpowered Alvara’s influence…not good. Not even close to good.

The music box’s song grew louder, and I spotted it in Moros’s hand—bronze, winding slowly, the melody dragging like a death march. His smirk widened as recognition seemed to flicker through the Grayshellians.

And then I felt it.

The chill yanked through my bones—pulling, siphoning my magic away like a rip tide.

No.

I shoved a shield up, but it flickered and died like a zapped fly.

“Reaper,” Aren breathed as the line erupted.

Everyone except Alvara, August, and Bellamy opened fire on the twins. Civilians screamed, scrambling for shelter. The seers didn’t waste bullets—either unwilling or unable to fire as the shots bounced harmlessly off the twins’ shields.

The twins didn’t flinch. Not once. What the fuck were they?

Ally’s voice was tight, her lips an inch from Adrastos’ ear. “I can’t.”

Can’t what?!