Chapter 52

52

A zlan

“Rhianna!” I cry out as I watch my little mate tumble from the dragon high above us.

I lift my hand, driving my magic through the sky, attempting to catch her.

She’s too far, too far away.

I start running, crashing through those that lie in wait in front of me, striking at them indiscriminately, running as hard as I can as if I hope I can catch her, as if I hope I can reach her in time.

But I know I can’t. She’s too far away. And I am too slow. Too damn slow.

I’m resigned to watch her fall, hopeless and useless.

I watch the woman I love, the person I care most about in all the world, the most precious thing in my life, fall through the sky and there is nothing I can do to save her, to help her.

I run anyway, run as she falls and when she hits the ground, I don’t see it, her body lost in the distance, but I feel it. I feel the impact hard against her tiny body and I stumble to my knees.

“Rhianna!”

Please no, please don’t take her from me. I’ll do anything, anything at all. Take me, take me instead.

I stare at the grass beneath me. The world spins. Noise roars in my ears. Oxygen burns in my throat.

And then I feel her, feel her through the bond.

Not dead.

Alive.

I drag myself back up onto my feet and I’m running again.

She’s hurt, I can feel it. Hurting and in pain. I need to get to her.

I don’t know exactly where she landed but I follow the pull of my bond, so familiar, so comforting it’s hard to remember a time when I begrudged it. And yet I did. Stupid fool.

It is – Rhianna is – the best thing that’s happened to me in my life and I won’t lose her now.

I sprint down the hill, skidding and stumbling in my haste, blasting anyone in my way, desperate to reach her and as I do, the gray clouds – that dark magic – my uncle conjured melt away and rays of light pierce the sky, catch the golden scales of the dragon in the sky high above.

I don’t know what it means. And I don’t care. All I care about is reaching her.

The bond pulls me out to the east, away from the scorched land, the dead soldiers and those that remain, and out to the fields I drove her through on my bike.

I crash through hedgerows and out into a field of grass and then I spy them.

Rhianna and my uncle.

She’s on her feet, and I sigh in relief, but only for a moment because then she’s falling again, that bastard on top of her, shaking at her limp body.

I fire a bolt of magic at him. It takes him by surprise, hitting the side of his body and pummeling him backward onto the ground. He doesn’t fire back, doesn’t strike out and as I rush closer, I understand why. There’s nothing there. His aura of magic – so bold and so strong – is gone.

I tumble down onto my knees beside Rhianna.

Her eyes are closed, her skin pale – too pale.

Not dead though. I can feel her through the bond. I’d know if she were dead, wouldn’t I? I’d feel it.

“Rhi?” I choke. “Rhianna?”

She doesn’t answer me and I lift her into my arms and cradle her against my chest. Her body flops lifelessly, but she’s warm and I can feel her heart beating.

“Fuck, Rhi!” I choke.

I sense someone slump onto the ground next to me and then someone else.

“Azlan?” my cousin says, his voice trembling. “Please … please tell me she’s not–”

“Alive,” I whisper, stroking her hair from her face and kissing her soft cheek. There’s a gash on her forehead, blood trailing down her face and her arm hangs in a grotesque manner. I don’t think those are the cause of this though. “Something’s wrong. Something’s not right. We need a doctor. We need a doctor right now!” I yank my gaze away from my mate and swing it around, hoping against hope by some miracle there’ll be a doctor standing right there. There isn’t, just Tristan and Spencer kneeling beside me. Neither of them look in good shape. Spencer – completely naked – hugs his side like his ribs are broken and Tristan’s mouth is full of blood, his clothes caked in it too.

“Let me see her, Azlan,” Tristan says. I hug my mate tighter to my body. I’m not letting her go. I’m never letting her go again. “I can heal her,” he tells me.

I scoff. “There’s something seriously wrong with her. We need a trained healer, a professional.”

“I can do it, Azlan,” Tristan says softly, reaching for her.

I shake my head.

“He’s a skilled healer.” Spencer pats his friend’s shoulder. “Trust me, I should know. He’s patched me up innumerable times. Let him see her, Azlan.”

I peer into Moreau’s eyes and then my cousin’s. I can see how concerned they both are, how much they care about Rhianna as well.

Though it pains me, though I never want to let her go, I know I have to. I lay her down carefully, and immediately my cousin casts his hand over the wound on her head and her crooked arm, mending them both, before bending closer to inspect her.

I turn my head away and catch sight of the crumpled form of my uncle five paces away from us. I drag myself up onto my feet and stalk towards him.

He’s still alive.

I reach down and fist the scruff of his robe, yanking him towards me.

“What the hell did you do?! What the hell did you do to her?!” I yell in his face.

He’s barely conscious from my blast, his eyes spinning in and out of focus. I draw back my fist and punch him hard in the face, feeling the bone of his nose snap beneath my knuckles. Then I hit him again. “I said, what did you do to her, you piece of shit?” I punch him again and again, over and over, feeling skin split, blood spill, teeth crack. I don’t care. I don’t give a shit.

“Az! That’s enough,” Stone says from behind me.

I freeze. My friend lands his hand on my shoulder.

I blink, the bloodied, messy face of my uncle coming back into focus. I push him away from me.

“Rhianna,” I say, spinning back around.

“She’s going to be okay, man.”

I collapse forward, into his arms, sobbing with fucking relief. He squeezes me tight.

“I thought we’d lost her,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says, gripping the back of my neck. “I know. But we didn’t. Come on, they’re taking her up to the mansion.”

I sniff, taking a moment to pull myself back together, then I step away from my oldest friend and point down to the wrecked form of my uncle.

“What are we going to do with him?”

“Is he still alive?”

“Yes … sort of.”

“Damn,” Phoenix mutters, “I should have left you for two more minutes.”

I glance down at my bloodied knuckles. “She didn’t kill him.”

“No, seems she took his magic from him. Drained him.”

I stare down at my uncle, mulling this over.

“We could dump him in a pond. There’s one about a minute’s walk away,” Stone says.

“No, it’s better he’s alive. Better he faces justice. Better he … suffers . Dying is too good for him. ”

“Really, man?” Phoenix says, sounding unconvinced.

I pick up the crumpled body of my uncle and sling him over my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I say.

We start the long trudge back up to the mansion, Spencer and Tristan – carrying Rhi – just ahead of us, and I make sure to knock my uncle’s head against several tree trunks as we go.

“It’s really over,” Phoenix says as we reach the mansion.

“Yes,” I say, taking in the sight.

Because the fighting has stopped, it’s stopped completely.