“Showed me how important I am for once!” he yelled, and I jerked.
I shuddered. “Who is ‘he’?”
“The Harbinger,” Misha said, and he smiled. “He’s already been here. He’s what they are hunting and will never find. He showed me what’s coming, Trinity.” Misha shook his head. “You’re going to be a part of it.”
“How?” I demanded, dragging in deep breaths. “How am I going to be a part of it, and then what? You break the bond and then kill me? What happens to you, Misha? You’re going to live with yourself after all of this? I trusted you. I love you, and you can do this? To me? To us?”
“I can and I will,” Misha said, lifting his chin. “And, Trin, there’s never been an ‘us.’ It’s only ever been you.”
That was worse than a slap in a face. It was a knife to the heart.
“It’s time for a new era.”
“A new era?” I shook my head. “Have you lost your mind?”
Misha sprang at me, giving me no room to doubt that he fully intended to do what he’d claimed. And maybe it was the shock of it. Maybe it was the fact I couldn’t believe what was right in front of me, but either way, I just didn’t move.
The first blow knocked me on my ass, stunning me. The second blow, a kick to the back, woke me the Hell up. I sprang to my feet, and the third blow never landed as I jumped out of his reach, panting.
“You’re exhausted. You used your grace. You should’ve stayed down,” he said.
“And you should know better than that.”
Misha’s lips pulled back in a sneer. “So be it.”
Then he shifted, shirt ripping and skin hardening to stone. He came at me hard and fast, stunning me with his brutality.
Fighting Misha was like fighting myself—if I was a Warden falling down an out-of-control rage spiral. He deflected nearly every blow I sent his way, and Misha’s fists connected with parts of me more times than I could count. It was savage and raw, and I felt all the hatred Misha had inside him and had kept buried until now with every fist and kick, the last one bringing me to my knees.
Blood poured from my nose and mouth. My lip felt wrong. Split. I spit out a mouthful of blood, arms shaking as I pushed up onto my feet. I refused to look at Zayne’s crumpled body, knowing I couldn’t afford the distraction, and squared off with Misha once more.
He took an angry swipe at me, nearly digging his claws into my stomach. He was fast in his attack, cutting and jabbing at me until he backed me up against the wall of the house.
Through it all, his own words kept coming back to me, words he’d spoken to me over and over during the years of training.
Fighting is simply anticipating the next attack. Find the muscle tremor. Watch where Misha looks...where he positions his body... He will tell you where he strikes next without words.
But it wasn’t enough.
Misha had my strength, and he knew all my moves, all my weaknesses. I knew he could defeat me.
Misha’s spin kick caught me in the jaw, snapping my head back and taking me to the ground once more. I rolled onto my side, moaning as I blinked blurry eyes. I tried to sit up, but pain brought me back down to the scorched grass. Gasping, I wheezed as I tried to get my lungs to expand. Pain lanced across my chest. Something...something felt broken. A rib? Multiple ones? I wasn’t sure. My eyes drifted shut.
“Stay down.” Misha stepped over my legs. “I’m going to put this one out of his misery.”
No.
“Not going to happen,” Zayne growled, and I opened my eyes to see him pitch forward as he struggled to rise. I rose onto my elbow, panting. “I’m going to rip your throat out.”
“Really?” Misha chuckled as he knelt beside Zayne. “It was supposed to be you.”
I had no idea what Misha was talking about, but it didn’t matter. I needed to get to my feet. I needed to... I needed to stop Misha, because he would kill Zayne.
And I could not, would not, let that happen.
I pushed to my feet, swaying as my grace came to life inside me once more, burning through my veins and muscles, bone and tissue, lighting up every cell. Fire snapped through me as I summoned the sword and felt it respond, hot and heavy in my grasp.
I was nothing more than storm and fury as I stepped forward and Misha looked up at me. He rose.
“I love you,” I said, and Misha’s eyes widened. There was a flicker of surprise, almost as if he couldn’t believe I was going to do it, and for a brief second, I didn’t know what he wanted from me, what he expected. Didn’t he know me at all? Didn’t he know there was no way I’d let him kill Zayne?
That I’d let him take me?
Why didn’t he realize that?
Misha reached for me.
But I lifted the sword high as it spit white fire.
Screaming filled my ears, drowning out everything around me and in me, and a distant part of me realized that it was me making those sounds, it was me wailing as I swung the sword down on Misha.
The white flames burned bright, and I thought there was a moment our gazes locked, a moment when I saw the boy I grew up with staring back at me through familiar beautiful blue eyes, but then the flames swallowed Misha, and within a stuttered heartbeat, he was gone. There was nothing left of him but ashes—
A sudden icy feeling poured into my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs. I took a step, but my legs collapsed and I landed on my knees, not evening feeling the pain.
Oh God.
A shudder racked me from bones to muscles, and when it receded, taking the iciness with it, I couldn’t...
I couldn’t feel it.
I lifted a trembling hand and pressed it to the center of my chest, just below my breasts. I couldn’t feel it—the bond.
It was gone—broken, and that meant, Misha was... He was truly gone.
35
The grace recoiled deep inside me, pulling back. The sword collapsed into itself and the corners of my vision darkened as I stared at the spot where Misha had stood. I opened my mouth, but I could make no sound, as if my throat had sealed itself off. There was a vast emptiness inside me, a hole...
Misha was gone.
Bending at the waist, I drew in a shallow breath that hurt. The breath went nowhere, stuck in my burning throat. My hands shook. My entire body trembled as raw, unbearable pain swallowed me and questions pounded through me. How could this have happened? How could Misha do this? How could he become this lost, and I never saw it? I lifted my hands and stared down at them. My fingers trembled. So did my legs. My entire body rattled.
I’d killed Misha. I’d had to, but I killed him and I—
Zayne.
Pulling myself back from the brink, I scrambled to my feet and staggered toward him. Every part of my being focused on him. Zayne was here. He’d been hurt. Bad. I had to help him. He was the priority. Not Misha. Not me. Zayne. I dropped to my knees beside him. I reached for him but stopped, unsure of where I could touch him.
“Oh, Zayne,” I whispered. For a heart-stopping moment, I didn’t know what to do. His eyes were closed, and a horrible fear surfaced. It was so bad that wild panic dug deep and it eased only a little when I saw his chest finally move.
He wasn’t in his Warden form, seeming to have lost the strength to shift back. Half his body was...charred, ruddy and black. There was a terrible gash across his chest, deep enough to expose the muscles beneath the skin. Whatever injuries I had, which seemed like a lot, were nothing in comparison to what had been done to Zayne.
What he had done to himself to protect me.
“I need to get us help,” I said, touching his left cheek, where he wasn’t burned. The breath I took was shaky. “Do you think—?”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head, wanting to touch him more but afraid of hurting him. “What are you sorry for? You—”
“Misha,” he groaned, his eyes opening into thin slits. “I’m so sorry.”
If I thought my heart was incapable of shattering even more, I was wrong. It cracked wide open as I blinked back my tears. “Don’t,” I whispered, gently brushing the hair back from his face. “Don’t apologize for him.”
“I know...” His breath shuddered out of him as his face tensed. “I know how much he...means to you and you...you shouldn’t have had to do that.”
His face blurred as I fought back tears. “Thank you...” My voice broke.
“He...he hurt you.” Zayne shuddered.
“I’ll be okay...” I would, but Zayne... “Do you think you can get up? Or do you think you can at least shift?”
“I...I don’t think so,” he said, and that was bad. If he could shift, it would kick in his healing abilities, and if he stayed in his human form, he’d keep getting worse until he—
I cut that thought off. “I’m not going to let you die, Zayne. You annoy me too much for me to let you die.”
A huffing, pained laugh came from him. “That doesn’t...make any sense.”
“It makes complete sense,” I told him. “You need to shift.”
“You...you need to go before more...demons show up,” he said, his chest rising and then sinking. “You’re bleeding all over. I smell it. Ice cream.”
“I’m not leaving you, Zayne. I need you to concentrate and shift. If not, you—you’re going to die a virgin, Zayne. Do you want to die a virgin?”
He laughed and it ended on a choking sound that sent my heart plummeting. “I cannot believe you just said that.”
“Me, neither, but come on, Zayne. Please. God. Please, don’t do this. I...” I really like you. It might even be deeper than that. I might even be falling...falling in love with him, and I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. “I really like you, Zayne.”
“I think...that was pretty evident a few nights ago.”
Despite everything that had happened and everything that could still happen, I flushed as I picked up his hand and felt that jolt that always came with skin-to-skin contact with him. “I need you, Zayne. So, I’m not going to let you die. You’re going to shift and then we’re going to get out—”