Page 392 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

My shadows hissed in my ear. Evil, they whispered. Unspeakable evil within.

Fantastic. Just fucking fantastic.

The Grayshellians flowed like a single tide, curling and snapping around me with lethal grace. Their mental line must’ve been crystal clear—because without a word, they shifted to place me at the center. Their formation folded around me like it was second nature. Like they'd done this a hundred times before. Like it was nothing new to carry an outsider through the carnage.

The chitter and screech of demons had Alvara lifting a fist—hold—and we froze. Silent, tense. She scanned the shadows. Freya’s elbow nudged my waist, and I looked down as she fired off instructions down the bond.

A dozen guard the portal. It’s quiet—for now. Bad news? They’re probably flooding out somewhere else.

One problem at a time, I answered. She nodded, and we fanned out.

Seven of us. Twelve of them. Best odds we’d had all night.

To my surprise, August slotted in as an archer too. Alec, The Great Commander, and his mate fanned out in sync—shields up, bows drawn. Three arrows loosed. Three crawlers dropped. A clean, coordinated strike that sent the rest screaming in our direction.

Demonic shrieks echoed off the busted concrete like birds cawing through hell. The rest scrambled toward us. I lost track of them in the black, but another volley of arrows shot past—and three more fell.

No need for blades.

Ansel and Lana tore through the remaining demons like water through silk. Gutting them before they reached the rest of us.

Smooth. Efficient. Practiced.

No wonder the third coven was legendary. How many wars did you have to survive before this shit looked like a sparring match?

“They’ll send backup,” Ally predicted grimly, striding toward the portal beneath the mezzanine. The glass above was shattered, jagged edges framing the ceiling like a monster’s mouth.

The hair on my neck prickled in response. I turned toward the darkness, watching our backs—same as August and I had done three times already tonight.

But this time...

I grabbed Freya’s arm before she could follow.

“You’re tapped,” I noted flatly.

“She doesn’t have enough left,” she shot back, flicking a glance toward Alvara, whose face was tight with strain as she examined the portal’s edge.

“There’s nothing here to siphon from,” I growled. “What are you gonna do—pull it from the floor?”

“Maybe,” she snapped.

“I’m not letting my queen burn out with enemies surrounding her.”

Her jaw clenched. Eyes flashed—not anger, but hurt.

Queen. Not mate. I hadn’t meant it to cut like that. Maybe I had. I didn’t know anymore. I only knew one thing—she wasn’t passing out on my watch. Not in enemy territory. Not happening.

“I’m fine,” Alvara lied. August didn’t look convinced either.

“West wall is flagging,” Ansel called. “Brody says ravens inbound. Jax dropped the snake into the sewer and is heading west. Aren’s gonna need us back ASAP, Al.”

Alvara nodded shakily, and raised trembling hands. My attention split—Alvara straining to close the tear. Freya standing ready, fury in her eyes. And the darkness pressing in from all sides.

Water dripped somewhere behind us. Steady. Measured. A countdown. The walls creaked around us like bones shifting in a corpse.

Anguish. That’s what filled the air. Not just the scent of rot—but grief. And something else. Something feeding on it. I didn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

Alvara whimpered, her power flickering. Her mate didn’t cast a shield—couldn’t, judging by the drained look in his eyes.