Page 116 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

“Adora’s gone.”

Her jaw tightens. “I know.”

“We finish this,” I say.

“Together.”

We crash through the front line, both now fully shifted, just as the Brood breaks through the trees—feral and armed, some twisted by blood magic, some just hungry to kill. But they rush right passed us and join our flanks. No collision to overtake us to get to Kendall. They’re out for blood. Human blood and for the moment, I’ll take it.

When we all see them rushing past us to Gideon’s Torch that’s cresting the other side, emboldened. Armed with weapons blessed by gods they don’t understand, We run with them and go for the humans who are trying to eradicate us all. Then, our focus can shift to each other– If need be

We meet the army of humans head-on.

The first wave hits hard.

I take down three before I realize my shoulder’s bleeding. A blade slipped past my guard, but I don’t stop moving.

Kendall’s beside me, fast and brutal, her claws catching the edge of a Brood soldier’s throat before he can raise his blade. Her eyes glow bright and sharp—like moonlight turned to fire.

“Behind you!” I shout.

She twists, drops low, and the second attacker never gets back up. We move like instinct. Like one body.

Every time I falter, she’s there. Every time she stumbles, I catch her. There’s no space between our movements. Just rhythm and rage and something hotter than either.

We don’t speak. Wefeel.

It doesn’t feel like hours, but it is.

The battle pushes into the edge of the ravine where we’d planned the fallback point. Witches are holding a line with flame wards, dragons circling overhead.

Suddenly, I realize something watching the Brood. They’re not here to win. They’re here to distract.

Before I can understand why they would do that, Elias reaches us, bloody and wild-eyed. “Something’s happening at the old ward gate!”

Kendall’s eyes go wide.

“Adora,” she says.

I nod.

“She’s not running from the Hollowed,” I say. “She’sinvitingit.”

Kendall staggers back. “No. She wouldn’t—she’s not?—”

“She’shurting,” I say, softer. “And she’s angry. They twisted that pain. Used it.”

Kendall’s hand trembles in mine.

“I should’ve?—”

“Don’t,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers. “You loved her. You tried. That’s not on you.”

“She’s my sister.”

“And we’ll save her. Or stop her.”

She nods. But I see it in her eyes. This won’t end without more loss. And she’s already mourning it.

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