A need, stronger than all logic, all reason begged me to return to Assyria. Never had our bond felt so empty. It frightened me more so than the Angels’ bared teeth and aggressive press.

Assyria was mine to protect, just as I protected my soldiers.

The decision ripped me in two, but I knew what my only true option was.

“Hold the line!” I yelled at the males in front of me. The ones behind me, I ordered to part and push forward to support their brothers-in-arms. But racing in the opposite direction from the battle was no easy task, and it didn’t take long for my retreat to draw attention.

“Keep fucking going,” I barked at the ones who seemed to hesitate.

Finding a few Százados coordinating an attack on the ridge, I relayed further instruction and emphasized the need to continue our assault. One raced off to find a Parancsok to replace me at the front. Then, I attempted to push through the line of oncoming Demons and return to the camp.

Too much time was passing, and Assyria still wasn’t responding to me.

Heart pounding in my ears, I called on the shadows in my chest and pulled my wings from between my shoulder blades. In two steps I was airborne, flying low over the army and calling more shadows from the fading light to cloak my form.

Minutes ticked by, each serving to twist my stomach even more. “Assyria!”

I slammed to the ground in front of the healer’s tent, not even bothering to account for the overflow of males there.

I had to search for my mate.

Her long, dark hair and devious burgundy eyes were nowhere to be found.

One of the healers raced by, and I snatched his arm and spun him to face me. “Where is she?” I growled, violence lacing my tone.

He paled and shrank back. “I don’t know, haven’t seen your chosen in a few hours at least. We’re overwhelmed here.”

I threw him away with a snarl, then stalked to another male and interrogated him too. When the third didn’t know, what little patience I possessed fled entirely. I ripped off my horned ebony helmet. A growl, loud and threatening like a pissed off wolf, rumbled in my chest, drawing the attention of each male around me. They needed to witness the promise of violence exuding from my every pore.

“Where is my mate?” I bellowed, the force of my voice shaking the canvas in all directions.

Silence reigned as everyone went utterly still.

Chest heaving, I bared my teeth at them all. “Someone tell me where the fuck she is right now.”

A healer working on a soldier with a massive gash in his thigh straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. “I sent her for more bandages and pium, but she hasn’t returned.”

Without acknowledging he’d spoken, I stalked toward the nearby supply tents. I slapped each flap back with enough vehemence that I startled Grem and Zeec, whom I’d left behind to patrol the camp.

Sensing the tumult of fear and fury rolling off me, they trotted dutifully alongside me. “Search for Assyria,” I snapped at them, and they raced away, noses in the air and on the ground.

I should have left them to guard her rather than the whole camp. Why didn’t I tell them to stay with her?

Because I was angry and hurting. Regret swirled in my stomach. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to keep moving. I learned my lesson and would not make the mistake of leaving her unguarded again.

All I wanted was to find her, safe, right now.

Zeec released a sharp bark, and I whipped around a corner, continuing to check every tent along the way. None revealed Assyria.

As I turned away from my latest assault, Grem sprinted by me, fixated on a spot ahead. Without hesitation, I chased after him. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs and hope rooted in my heart that I’d finally find her and could return to the fighting after a thorough castigation for not responding down our mental connection.

The dogs planted themselves on the earth, tongues lolling as their attention focused on the ground in front of them. Careening around them, I found a pile of bandages strewn across the ground, like they’d been forcibly removed from someone’s hand.

My entire body went cold.

I raced forward, knees crashing to the ground as I searched for any sign of her. Something glistened in the dirt, and I snatched it between my fingers. Even in the dim light, the tiny garnet inlaid in the dainty gold ring glinted as I turned it over.

My breath lodged in my throat, and the world spun as pure, untethered rage licked its way up my spine. Red coated my vision, so much darker than the garnet in Assyria’s mother’s ring. A roar ripped from my chest, filled with so much anguish and fury that I hoped the sound would carry to the Angels and make them quake in their boots.

Because I knew, without a doubt, they had Assyria.

And I was going to fucking slaughter them all.

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57

Excited, lyrical voices drew me from the dark corner of my cage and into what little light was offered to us prisoners. Hands wrapped around the bars, I peered through them, trying to see what the Angels were so worked up about. Beside me, Banand did the same.

Two males dragged an unconscious female between them, head lolling forward and body limp. They’d clearly drugged her with something, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. No, it was the leather armor she wore, so similar to how the grunts in the army dressed. Nearly a year had passed since my capture, and before the plague females hadn’t been allowed in the army. Even the prisoners the Angels had dragged in here over the last few weeks were male.

But then, understanding slammed into me and stole my breath.

This female wasn’t a soldier. She was the Halálhívó’s fallen.

We knew this was coming, and yet seeing her, so vulnerable in her unconscious state, settled a stone deep in my gut. The Halálhívó wasn’t the type of male who became attached to anyone, yet what the crimson-eyed males said when they succumbed to the torture made me think she’d shattered through his hardened exterior.

Banand and I knew the consequences of breaking, of the Angels exploiting any tidbit they were offered. That was, after all, how Banand and his magic had been discovered, and why the Angels sacrificed themselves in droves to get him. We’d encouraged and threatened the Demon soldiers, trying to help the war effort in any way we could from behind these bars. Especially Banand, who carried guilt large enough to rival the Skala Mountains.

The plague they forced him to create achieved what the Angels could not on their own—kill Demons by the tens of thousands.

I was merely a bystander in the first wave of it, left behind by my brothers, both blood and chosen. As I lay on the forest ground, garnet pouring from my orifices, I tried and failed to use my own blood magic to stem the flow and save my life. The Angels had already overwhelmed our camp, and they spotted my maroon eyes immediately. I was too weak to fight back when they dragged me before Banand and had him reverse his magic on me.

I wished he hadn’t, but they didn’t give him a choice. During our imprisonment, that wasn’t a luxury we had been afforded for anything. We fought for everything we could anyway.

Stealing a sideways glance at the burgundy-eyed Demon caged beside me, I found him already offering me a similar expression, one that told me he guessed who this female was too.

“We should have killed them before they had a chance to talk to Zaph,” he hissed, low enough that the Angels entering the room wouldn’t hear.

The males tossed the Halálhívó’s fallen onto the table like she was a sack of grain. Blood caked her arms and most of her torso, though it was dried and flaking. None of it appeared to emanate from her, though.