Page 404 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

When the sun again rises, little dove, I just want to take you dancing.

If I died now, she’d never know.

Never know my final wish was to hold her again. That I’d already forgiven her. That I’d always find her. In every life. Every realm. Every breath.

I tried to tell her.

But my throat filled with blood, and the world went dark.

Magnolia

Agony shredded through my chest and throat, stealing the air in a violent, crushing assault. My eyes burned as tears carved hot paths down my cheeks. I looked down, half-expecting to see a blade, an exit wound—something to explain the pain. But my leathers were intact. The blood staining my clothes was the same as moments before.

The shadows swelled and stretched in great black tendrils as I collapsed to my knees. The world rocked and halted all at once. The screams of the city muffled, distant—like I’d been hurled to the bottom of a pool. Dread and terror merged into a single, molten weight in my gut.

I knew the truth before the shadows hissed in my ear.

Aren.

Run, little witch. Run for the Commander.

“Aren!” I wasn’t sure if I screamed or mouthed the word. His name.

But I knew. I knew in my core that Aren had fallen—before the whispers, before the shadows even spoke. It was the rippling agony at my center. The silent rift of something essential, irrepably broken.

I screamed. The sound tore from me, flaying my throat as if my soul itself were unraveling. My arms wrapped tight around my ribs, instinctively trying to hold myself together. But the pain was everywhere. The worst of it burned within—the torment of being ripped in half. Drawn and quartered by fate itself.

Aren. Aren. Aren.

Each heartbeat howled his name. The tears came fast and hot, blinding me as I surged to my feet.

I saw it. The wall of fire erupting across the square. The Angel of Death, bloodied and broken, collapsing to her knees just as I had. Alvara Porter’s arms were outstretched, flames erupting in a roaring inferno that engulfed the Renown and demons around her.

And then—I was there.

Kneeling in a lake of blood, black and crimson twining in a slick pool that soaked my shredded pants and coated my skin. My hands shook as I lifted them, and the trembling worsened when I saw the source of all that red.

Alvara’s face was twisted in panic and grief as she threw herself over the massive form of her sire. Her scream was raw, scraping, barely human.

Aren’s body lay limp across her lap. All strength gone from that towering, sculpted frame. And for the barest breath of a moment, he looked…small.

Agony eviscerated what remained of my composure. My breath hitched. My vision blurred.

The tearing in my soul—it was him. My Aren. My mate.

My heart thundered so violently I thought it might rupture.

Because my mate was dying.

And he didn’t know. Didn’t know that I knew. That I had accepted him, on a level deeper than thought or will. That the bond had taken root—had sealed into place. That I had chosen him, even after ruining everything. Chosen him on that rooftop. Chosen him again when I drove my dagger into his enemy’s back.

My pulse roared in my ears. My lungs fought to keep up, the world tilting on its axis as I reached him.

The part of me that bled out in front of me.

Aren. Perfect, even now, his face streaked with soot and blood.

Sound returned slowly, like thick honey poured too long untouched.