Page 40 of Poison Sun

My eyes dart around the room, searching for a way out.

The window.

It’s above the mattress.

If I can just…

Desperation claws at me, and I summon my magic, hoping to push him away with a burst of solar energy.

It’s weak, barely a flicker, and Lucas merely tightens his grip and drinks deeper in response.

The room dims. I’m losing consciousness, my body unable to sustain itself under the strength of his body and my magic fading away.

But I have more than just sun magic and physical strength.

If the plan worked—which I assume it did, given the screams that are getting louder at the end of the hall—then the others are here.

Damien is here.

The duskberry bond.

With the last bit of strength I have, I open the door between our souls and throw every emotion through it as possible.

Fear. Pain. Anger. Frustration. Weakness.

Help me, I think, even though words don’t carry through the bond—only emotions.

It’s a last-ditch effort, but I have to try. And I keep trying, and trying, for as long as I possibly can.

Somehow, miraculously, I separate my mind from Lucas’s continued attack and open myself fully to the bond.

This needs to work.

It has to work.

Then, as the world fades into darkness, someone screams my name from the hall.

Damien.

In seconds, Lucas is no longer crushing me.

The door hits the wall with a loud crack as it’s busted open.

“Amber,” Damien says my name in horror, and he’s by my side in an instant. His arms surround me, and he props me up, examining the bite on my neck that I can already feel closing. “Lucas… he did this to you.”

He says it in shock, as if he can’t believe it.

Then, his eyes go to the window. It’s wide open, the wind blowing through it like a bad omen. He gets up, places his hands on the windowsill, and sticks his head through it, searching for Lucas.

“He’s gone,” he growls, and then he adds, “I’m going to kill him.”

“No.” I join him, also looking out the window and finding no trace of Lucas. “I’m going to kill him.”

He refocuses on me, and I can see how torn he is as he decides whether to jump through the window and chase after Lucas, or to stay by my side.

He chooses the latter.

“I can’t believe he did this,” he murmurs, tracing the already closed wound on my neck. His voice is a mix of anger and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. There’s anger, yes, but also fear, relief, and an intensity I’ve never seen before. It’s as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of us, the noise of the city a distant hum as we each stand here plotting our revenge.

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