Page 364 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

I found her in the foyer, encased in a cocoon of shadow Reyna had conjured. Our eyes locked for one tight beat—then we peeled away to assess the threat. I broke left. Reyna went right.

Fire.

The yard where Freya had won her brutal victory was engulfed in flames.

“What the fuck is it?” I barked, glancing sidelong at a horrified Reyna.

The look on her face said everything she didn’t.

“Where’s Blaz?”

“At the estate.”

“Go!”

With that barked order, she vanished—and I stepped in beside Freya to replace the shield myself.

We were fucked.

The world was going to hell in a handbasket. My mate had just slaughtered my fucking mother for her throne. And I had a sinking suspicion we’d be colliding with the masked man very soon.

I shoved through the shadows—and the chaos roared back to life. Freya’s eyes snapped to me, blinking, no doubt trying to figure out how Reyna had just been replaced by her seven-foot, male, extremely pissed-off mate. Gio sprinted toward us, brown eyes flicking from Freya to me like he wasn’t sure who to report to.

Luckily, my mate saved him the trouble. “How many falconries are on site?” she demanded.

“Three.”

“And the fourth?”

“New Uptown. On their way.”

“You’re with us,” Freya said—like she’d been issuing orders her entire life.

Maybe she had been.

Honestly, I wasn’t even sure what her actual role had been in Grayshell. If I’d learned anything in the last hour, it was that I didn’t know shit about the woman who’d stolen my fucking heart.

Without hesitation, she rushed into the yard with the rest of the Wings. Gio and I stayed tight on her tail as we bolted down the steps—out into a courtyard ringed in fire. She elbowed me in the waist. I turned to find towers of smoke spiraling from the direction of the city.

And as my ears strained, I could hear them: sirens. Screams. Mortals.

Not now. Not yet. We were supposed to have more time.

But if the three crowned, cloaked motherfuckers emerging through the smoke were any indication, the clock had just run out. The abundance of snarling crawlers behind them only reinforced it.

Freya popped her neck as Gio and I unleashed our ice to smother the blaze.

Wings snapped into formation—three falconries, three perfect defensive walls, merging into a single front.

Like the Spartans: the crime wasn’t dropping your shield for yourself. It was dropping it for the person beside you.

But just as we advanced, the energy shifted. The blaze dwindled.

And then—three figures materialized between us and the crowned demons.

Lana. Alvara. Alec.

They looked like they’d seen a ghost.