Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 201(@300wpm)
“Stay,” Drago commands me and I look at him like he’s lost his mind. “Behind me.” He acts like he’s just finishing his sentence. He swallows thickly as he climbs from bed and dresses quickly.
I do as he says, all the while my heart races.
All the comfort I felt vanishes as we walk quickly down the hall to the wide spiral staircase. My bare feet pad on the cold stone floor. The noises of people gasping and the shifters yelling orders grow louder and louder.
I remember the worry in Mrs. Sarah’s comment, and it strikes me that Drago’s brothers may not have come back alone. My grip is clammy on the iron railing of the staircase as I peek over the banister and see Cyrus is on the ground and has a death grip on his leg. He’s naked, so he obviously just shifted. As we get closer, I smell charred flesh and it nearly makes me gag. Cyrus’s leg is blackened and bloodied. It all comes into view as if it’s slow motion. Galen hovers over him and behind both of them is what appears to be a large canvas bag with a drawstring top. It could easily fit a body and judging by the muffled cries coming from it and the movement within it, that’s exactly what it contains.
Holy fuck. My hand flies to my mouth as I stay where I am on the staircase. Numbly, I stand dumbfounded watching the scene play out before me. My legs lock and Drago leaves me near the top of the stairs as he marches downward to figure out what the hell is going on.
“What happened?” Drago’s demand is hard although concern is etched on his face. A healer, draped in deep burgundy, wipes away the blood from Cyrus’s leg and speaks spells I’ve never heard to numb the pain. Servants fill the room slowly but keep their distance. They all watch with terror filled eyes. No one dares to speak.
“The sorcerer saw us.” Galen’s voice is calm although his chest is heaving. Even from here I can see he’s covered in sweat from head to toe. A servant scuttles forward with his head bowed to pass Galen his clothes and then leans down to hand Cyrus the same. Galen takes the clothes with one hand and nods in thanks before heaving in a ragged breath and shoving a leg into the pants.
They’ve just come back. From the Authority. The weight of the realization makes my chest hurt. Isabella. My eyes refuse to leave the bag.
“Did they follow you?” Drago’s eyes narrow before he takes a quick glance at me. His fear and tension are palpable but quickly extinguished when both Cyrus and Galen shake their heads no.
“Alec tried. We were almost out with no one even knowing,” Cyrus answers, his voice quieting as he glances down at his leg.
“One of the women screamed and called for Alec.” Galen walks to the bag, his footsteps foreboding. Unconsciously I take a step back, seeing the side of the bag, pierced and soaked in dark red. A talon. Blood. I attempt to take another step back, but I can’t. As if simply not seeing would make it all go away.
“He got me pretty good. But we got them,” Cyrus continues with a tight smile, although he winces as the healer removes pieces of his charred skin. His gruff groan echoes his pain throughout the hall. He waves the healer away and inhales deeply before blowing out a dusting of green through the air. The green fog seems to sparkle as it fades in the air and falls onto his leg. My vision is blocked as more and more servants gather below, hovering around the scene.
“What do you mean you got them? I thought there was only one?” Drago questions them. Looking between the two before his eyes settle on the large canvas sack.
“I didn’t know which one was Isabella.” Galen opens the bag and two women, gagged and bound at the ankles, knees, and wrists, fall out. Only one woman is alive and struggling. The other woman is limp, and her chest is still. Her eyes are closed, but her skin is so pale it is nearly gray. As she lands on the cold, hard ground, blood smears on the ground and pools around her.
My entire body goes cold.
A high-pitched scream fills the space as my eyes widen and my knees go weak. I barely register that the sound is coming from me. They killed her. Several servants come to help me but I push them all away. I can’t get the image of her falling lifeless to the floor out of my head. My hands clasp over my mouth as I shake my head in denial.
“Help her!” Galen screams. All three men crowd around the two women on the floor. A servant gets between them and pulls the woman who’s alive and screaming through the gag away from the other. The poor young woman is hysterical and frantically trying to get free.