Page 122 of Caged
“Have—”
I’m in awe. She’s magnificent. A fucking warrior
“Him.”
Each word strikes like the blow of a hammer. It’s a promise. A threat.
A Fatesdamned declaration of war.
She’s poised to attack—an Omega protecting her Mate—and I’m both amazed and terrified by her bravery. It’s humbling—especially because I’m fucking useless right now. Sprawled on the floor, silver burning through my limbs, unable to do anything except pray to the Fates that my brothers get here before this all goes to hell.
Despite my pride at watching my Mate stand between her father and my death, I know she can’t take him on single-handedly. We’re seriously outnumbered, and I’m getting weaker by the second.
It will be hours before the silver works through my system, but until then, I’m sluggish. My movements are clumsy. My brain is foggy.
And as much as I believe in her—this fierce, incredible girl—an abused, malnourished five-foot Omega simply can not fight an Alpha on her own.
“Idril,” I beg, because it’s all I can do. “Please… run.”
She glances over her shoulder, eyes blazing with untapped fury. Her gaze softens when it meets mine. She smiles, but it’s sad. Regretful. Like she’s already mourning what she knows happens next.
“No. I cannot.”
Then, with more fervor, she whips back around to face her father. Her voice rises in challenge, steady and sure.
“I will not.”
She takes a trembling step forward, and I see it. The moment she makes her choice.
“I’ll die first,” she swears, lifting her chin higher. “He’s mine, and you cannot have him.”
Fuck. I’m drowning in her. Awed by her spirit. Terrified by her stubborn will. This brave, reckless, impossible female.
My female.
Varenthrall frowns, studying her like he’s never actually seen the female standing in front of him. Their gazes clash, neither willing to be the first to look away. It’s a battle of wills between Father and Daughter that feels like it goes on forever.
Of course, Varenthrall can’t bear to play fair. He growls in irritation. His arm strikes out like a whip, so fast the movement is a blur.
His fist connects with her face. The thud of flesh meeting flesh may as well be another gunshot. The second he makes contact I shout, bellowing in helpless fury. Time slows to a crawl as Idril’s limp, fragile body flies through the room—a doll tossed aside by a careless toddler.
Her skull meets the floor with a sickening crunch. Even over my wordless screams I can hear the unnatural sound of her head cracking against marble. The sound it makes—I’m going to hear that fucking sound in my nightmares for centuries. Bile surges up my throat, putting an end to my screams.
Idril crumples into a lifeless heap. She’s a broken doll. Thrown away. Discarded. Left to rot where she lands.
I feel the exact moment she loses consciousness through the Bond. The thread flickers, a candle flame guttering in the wind.
No!
No, no, no—
Terror, like I’ve never known, implodes through my chest. The sound that rips out of me this time isn’t human. It isn’t vampire. It isn’t Alpha. It’s ancient, primordial, and pissed. An explosion of grief and rage that shakes the chandelier overhead.
I struggle to rise—to go to her—but my leg collapses beneath me.
I roar—agony and grief colliding like thunder—and slam my fists against the marble so hard it cracks.
Fine. Fucking fine. If I can’t walk to her, I’ll fucking crawl.
