Page 96 of At the Mercy of Midnight
In a blur, Silas shoved Amelia behind him, throwing up his arm to shield himself. Magic surged through him almost without thought, a pulse of energy burst outwards, knocking the weapon just wide of his ribs.
The attacker didn’t falter, but neither did Silas.
He twisted, elbow cracking into the figure’s jaw with a satisfying crunch.
“Run!” he barked, pushing Amelia back. “Get out of here, now!”
“I’m not leaving you!” Her voice was sharp, ragged with panic.
She ducked just as another figure swung, a blunt pommel aimed for her temple. She sidestepped cleanly and slammed a hard kick into the attacker’s knee. He buckled with a grunt, but before she could strike again, the arcane lamp at the end of the alley exploded in a shower of sparks.
Darkness swallowed them.
His heavy breaths echoed in his ears.
He could just see someone surging towards him. He raised a hand and sent another wave of raw force crashing into the attacker. They hit the ground hard, but more were already circling in. Too many.
And he could feel it, his magic was already thinning, each burst dragging more strength from him.
“Winslow, please!” he hissed, turning to her again. He could see the terror in her eyes, her quickened breaths, fists clenched.
Silas turned back to the attackers. They’d formed a loose ring, boxing them in against the far wall, but were no longer advancing. Most of them hadn’t drawn weapons, just stood in wide stances, gloved hands ready. Waiting.
They weren’t fighting to kill. They were fighting to capture.
Then his eyes landed on it. Stitched into the chest of the cloaked figure directly ahead, was a blood-red symbol. Two daggers crossed over each other, a semi-circle cradling them. He swallowed. The same symbol they’d discovered at Fabian Eros’ shop.
A sharp gasp from behind him made his stomach drop.
Silas turned just in time to see one of the attackers seize Amelia, an arm locked tightly around her waist as she thrashed against the hold. She snapped her head back, slamming into the figure’s face, but it barely staggered him. Their grip only tightened.
Before Silas could react, a heavy boot slammed into his back, knocking him forwards. He hit the cobblestones hard, pain exploding through his knees. Something firm clamped around his chest from behind.
His head whipped up, vision swimming, seeing the glint of silver at Amelia’s throat, a blade pressing into her skin.
His breath caught.
Amelia froze, her body going rigid, terror flashing in her eyes.
“Please, don’t—” Silas’s voice cracked, hoarse and useless.
“Stop fighting,” a voice spoke in his ear, low, calm, and oddly familiar. “We only want you, Silas Finley. Come with us, and we’ll spare the girl.”
The words pierced through his panic, but they didn’t make sense.
No. He couldn’t let them take her. Hewouldn’t.
“You…you can’t separate us,” he gritted out, chest heaving, “it isn’t possible.”
“No need to worry about that,” the voice replied.
Someone stepped forwards. Silas caught the glint of silver before a pendant, heavy and unfamiliar, was placed over his head, dropping against his chest.
At first, he thought it was a trick, a distraction. But then it hit.
A crack like lightning inside him, silent but shattering. A tether snapped, something ancient and invisible wrenching apart. Across from him, Amelia gasped as if it had torn through her too.
He choked on the feeling, body lurching.
