Page 48 of Love of the Bladed Dove
“But why didn’t you get them?”
“Look. I am very good with a bow. The best, really. But I know my hand-to-hand and blade skills are no match for Theron's. There were many guards, and we figured this situation called for the best. Theron reluctantly agreed…. Plus, from the looks of it, he was about to kill the King in the middle of this ballroom. So, it was good timing to make a little switch." Kain explained, his characteristic sarcastic charm dripping from every word. But Layla knew him well enough by now to sense it—he was holding something back. There was more he wasn’t saying. She could see it in the slight shift of his jaw, the way his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. But she also knew better than to push. There was no point. Kain would tell her when he felt she needed to know… or not at all. As infuriating as that was.
She nodded slowly, realization dawning.Theron was going to save her sisters .She could feel it deep in her chest—he would die before coming back without them. He was not the same man who had blindlyfollowed his mother’s order to slaughter her family just days ago.
Her heart gave a small, involuntary leap at the thought. A flicker of something too dangerous to name.
Chapter twenty-two
Theron.
Theron moved in silence behind Xaden and Sparrow, their footsteps ghosting across the cold stone floor. Veiled gloom clung to the walls, and every turn of the corridor felt carved from the breathless hush of war. The weight of urgency bore down on him, each step tight with purpose. Layla’s sisters were close. And if even one hand had touched them in violence—he would paint these halls red.
Xaden signaled with two fingers and stopped at the edge of the corridor. They crept to the archway before them and peered around it’s stone frame. Four guards stood posted in front of a staircase descending into the depths—the same stairwell where Xaden had seen Aerilynn dragged not long ago.
Theron’s gaze sharpened. No words were needed. With a flick of his hand, the plan was in motion.
He slung an arm over Sparrow’s shoulders and staggered forward, laughing like a drunken fool. Xaden followed close behind, grin wide and steps unsteady. They weaved toward the guards with perfect chaos—every sway and stumble a practiced misdirection. Assassins cloaked in folly, moving like fools with blades hidden behind their smiles.
“Halt! Who goes there?” barked one of the guards, hand already drifting to his weapon.
“Who goes where?” Theron slurred, blinking in exaggerated confusion. “Oh no! I lost her—she was right here! Blonde, big… ya know.” He flailed his arms dramatically, nearly toppling over in the process.
One of the guards groaned, clearly unimpressed. “You’ve got three seconds to turn around before I draw.”
“Wait—wait,” Xaden slurred, stumbling into the wall with theatrical clumsiness. “She said she was gonna show us the royal wine cellar…” The nearest guard stepped forward, sighing as he moved to usher them away. It was all they needed.
In a blink, Theron’s hand shot up, grabbing the man by the jaw and twisting violently. The sharp crack of vertebrae echoed through the hall. Before the others could register the kill, Xaden slammed a knife up under a second guard’s chin, piercing straight into the brain. Sparrow whirled and buried his own blade beneath the third guard’s ribs. The fourth reached for his sword- but it was too late. Theron was already behind him, slicing his throat clean with a single motion. Four guards. Six seconds. No alarms.
They quickly dragged the bodies into a dark supply room, leaving a streak of blood Theron didn’t bother worrying about. If anyone found it, they wouldn’t live long enough to raise the alarm. Without a word, they grabbed the discarded swords and descended the stairwell in a tight formation—Theron at the front, sword already drawn, his approach was as noiseless as falling ash. A dull orange glow flickered from the room below, along with the low murmur of voices. He paused at the final step, every sense honed on what waited ahead.
“Fifteen, maybe more,” Xaden whispered behind him.
Theron nodded, eyes like ice.“We take them all.”
Then he stepped into the dungeon without hesitation.
This was what he’d been built for—what generations of duty, blood, and silence had carved into his bones. And as he moved into the flickering dark, he unleashed everything they had forged him into. The warrior whose blade was not merely his own, but death’s will given form, here to claim without mercy.
A wave of noise swept over him—guards drinking, laughing, gathered in front of a heavy iron cell. All fifteen heads turned as Theron lunged, slicing across the chest of the nearest man before he could draw his blade. At once, the entire room erupted in chaos. Steel flashed. Shouts rose. Blood sprayed. Xaden and Sparrow exploded into motion behind him, blades cutting with surgical precision. Theron ducked under a wild swing and drove his elbow into a guard’s throat, then spun and slashed another across the belly. His body moved on instinct—fluid, practiced, deadly. Three men attacked at once. Theron pivoted, parried one, kicked another into the wall, then ran the third through with a snarl. He didn’t stop, wouldn’t until the last guard was no longer breathing.
Another guard charged him. Theron grabbed the man’s arm mid-swing, twisted, disarmed him, and used his own sword to slice him from shoulder to hip. A roar of pain was cut short as Sparrow buried a dagger in the man’s neck.
Another man’s shriek erupted behind Theron, Xaden had flung a broken chair leg through a guard’s eye. Blood pooled at Theron’s feet as the bodies piled higher. None of them—none—were a match for an Antonin armed with steel and driven by rage.
When the final man collapsed, choking on his own blood, silence settled over the chamber like a shroud. Only the harsh breath of three warriors remained. Then Theron turned to the cell where Aerilynn sat inside, curled in the corner like a trapped deer, her eyes wide with terror. Her gown was tattered, streaked with filth and torn in places that made Theron’s stomach twist. Bruises marked her arms and collarbone. But she was alive.But where was the other sister?
Xaden rushed to the wall and ripped down the ring of keys. The lock clicked open and Sparrow slipped inside, kneeling.
“Aerilynn,” Sparrow said gently. “It’s okay. Layla sent us. You’re safe now.” She didn’t speak—just stared, eyes wild and shaking. Slowly, with clear hesitation, she reached out and took Sparrow’s hand. He pulled her to her feet with care.
“Can you walk?” A small nod.
Theron stepped closer, his voice lower but urgent. “Where’s Ciana? Is she down here too?” Aerilynn’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her eyes simply flooded with more fear. Theron’s jaw tightened. He tried again, softer this time. “Is Ciana trapped somewhere else in the castle?”
She shook her head—just once. But it was enough. The tears in her eyes said the rest.
The men exchanged a glance. No words were needed. They needed to get Aerilynn to safety, then regroup. They would find Ciana next, before it was too late.
