Page 461 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Alec!” I finally barked, looking down at the scraps of clothing clinging to her battered frame. A torn shirt—a man’s shirt, missing entire stretches of fabric.

Killswitch was blatantly without one.

“Jesus Christ.”

I looked up to Alec as he knelt, Fae standing behind him, her mouth parted in shock.

“We have to get her outta here.” The lights above us flickered as a great shudder sent dust falling from the ceiling. “Take him too,” I ordered, rising to my feet and making my way toward the opening. It took everything I had to hand her to Blaz. To let him shift her through the shadows, lay her on the floor beside Adrastos as I scrambled out after them.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I snapped at Cyrus and Freya, where they knelt beside him—where he was fucking breathing—as I ripped the armor off my body to get to the shirt beneath. Freya slid across the stone floor on her knees, tearing apart Ally’s soaked shirt.

Her naked body was worse. So much worse.

Without time to process it, without time to catalog her injuries, I shifted my shirt over her, slipping it down her gaunt frame. A broken ghost of the woman I knew and loved.

Tapping my earpiece, I said, “Reyna, we have her. Where’s Briar?”

“We pulled back—” the radio turned to static, breaking her words into fragments. “Too many—Moros has her—the snake—retreat.”

My horrified gaze snapped to Blaz, then G, both of whom shook their heads.

“Requesting cover for exfil, Eastern wing, basement level.”

“I’ve got nothin’,” her voice crackled back over the line. “Flying squad down.”

I looked around then at our best and boldest. Vesper, who’d gotten us every scrap of intel we had on this hell hole. Cyrus, still examining Adrastos—his arms now. Freya, Blaz, Marcus, Ajax, Alec and Fae.

Lana’s voice came down the line. She’s right, August, they opened a portal. I don’t see a way out, I—unless the ravens can provide aerial, I don’t see an exit.

Get Viktor on that.

This wasn’t happening. We didn’t come this deep into the den of the beast to fail her. Not now. Not after everything. Not after Ally…

“I’ll take you.” All heads turned to Kade. “I know I’m not your favorite man for the job, but… I’ll take you. It will require one of Miss Josephine’s antidotes, however, or you’ll find I’m quite as useless as the rest of you.”

Freya

“Squad one moves the hostages with Kade, squad two with the Paladins to retrieve Blythe.”

Because over August’s dead body—and mine—were we abandoning her to let Moros break her to pieces the way he did Ally.

The palace trembled, a chorus of screams telling us the blight had broken through somewhere, and⁠—

“We move, now.”

“Commander, with all due respect, what the fuck do we do with Adrastos?” Marcus hedged.

A muscle in August’s jaw ticked, hard eyes meeting mine. “What the fuck was the plan, Freya?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Until sixty seconds ago.”

“I need you to extend me the courtesy of postponing your cynicism.” I just prayed Cyrus was fucking right, and we’d made the right fucking move. Adrastos was a wild card if there’d ever been one. Luckily for all of us, I was notorious for knowing exactly when to play one.

“And what? We leave him for dead here? What the fuck did you do?”

“Set the true king of Bellpost free—like Ally wanted.” I arched my brows in challenge. As if in response, thunder rumbled, the walls shuddering hard enough to rain down more debris.