Page 177 of Wicked Bonds
It wouldn’t last.
They’d find a way around it soon.
Stas started toward them, her mind working in overdrive as she tried to think of an alternative, some way to take them down.
She didn’t have a sword.
Her own knowledge of wards clearly wasn’t a match.
Leek had subdued her far too easily when he’d put his mind to it and would no doubt do it again. But he was nowhere to be seen. Only two Seraphim appeared to be battling the Hydraians.
Where’s Leek? Did he go inland with one of the others?There’d been four on the beach, with the other three having gone to the sky with her father on their tail.
Ezekiel and Eliza drew them down toward the tree line somehow. Something Skye said, a message Ezekiel relayed. I didn’t catch it all.
She started to nod, but the Seraphim threw another spiral of energy at the shield, creating a resounding crash that had several Hydraians jumping back.
Their runes were growing stronger.
There has to be a way—
A sharp scream hit her mind again. No. Not her mind. Herears.
She glanced upward, searching for the source. It’d been the same one she’d heard underwater.
Lizzie, she realized.It’s Lizzie.
Issac—
Go!he told her before she could finish.I’m fine.
Stas bolted into the air, misting toward her best friend and the chaos surrounding Luc’s home.
Bodies littered the ground.
Including her father and Blake… motionless… dead.
She fell to the field beside them, her eyes rounding at the sight of her father’s lifeless stare. “Dad?” she whispered, memories assaulting her of losing him so many years ago.
But he’d lived.
He hadn’t died that day. He’d just been taken. She’dsavedhim.
He’s a Seraphim. Immortal. He’ll come back.
Blake… Blake wouldn’t. He was still human. A mortal. His chest completely carved out from the blade of a Seraphim.
Another shriek bit into the air, drawing her focus to her mother… on her knees… a blade at her throat.
Kital held the hilt of the dagger.
Adriel spoke without emotion, his words lost to the wind. Or perhaps just not computing in Stas’s mind. Because he held a sword at her best friend’s neck. Jayson was on the ground beside her, not breathing.
Not beheaded. Not dead, she thought automatically, her mental voice taking on a strange sort of assessing tone. Stoic in nature. Practical.Seraphic.
Aidyn was in Lizzie’s arms, clinging to her mother’s red hair with tiny little fists.
Both were shaking.
