Page 103 of Creatures that Breathe

Here is a pre-independence day mansion, trapped in a forest of naked trees, their gnarled branches clawing at the hazy sky.

He’s in there.

I swallow, bolster myself, and stride forward, the chilled afternoon air raising goosebumps on my bare arms. With each step, my anger simmers hotter, boiling my blood.

Before I can charge in, insults flying, the front door swings open, reveals a cavernous foyer lit by the flicker of sconces.

“Thank fucking hells,” comes Atlas’s voice.

Then he’s taking my arm, towing me across the marble floors. He looks bad. Icy blue shirt wrinkled, untucked, purple shadows stuck to his eyes. His stare is simultaneously focused and wired.

Someone shouts from down the hall.

“What took you so long?” Atlas growls at me.

Instead of balking, I lunge at him. Slam my fist into his nose. His head snaps back, and a deluge of shimmering pale pink blood sprays.

“Sweet Hera, that hurt.” I shake out my hand, knuckles burning.

Atlas’s jaw clenches. “You done?” he asks, voice tepid, as if my attack didn’t register. Shiny pink smears on his mouth.

“I’ll save the rest for your spymaster.”

“Take it out on me,” he offers, raising his chin for the blow. He stands tall, statuesque. A martyr.

Rage churns inside me. “You have values all of a sudden? You sold me out!” I’m on a roll with this shouting thing, hands shaking, chest tight. “You betrayed me. You might as well have sentenced me to death.”

Atlas steps close to me, every bit the cursed leader. Dark eyes, penetrating glare. “You were, and still are, a threat to my entire team. Don’t think for a second that I would have allowed your return if I didn’t need you.” A disgusted glance. “I would have killed you if he hadn’t made it impossible.”

I’ve had quite enough of males threatening to kill me.

I punch him again, harder. It’s sloppy, smashes my knuckles into his teeth.

He curses, grabs my elbow, yanks me against him. Seething. Nostrils flared. The last thing I expect him to say is, “I’m sorry.”

The fight drains from me. “You’re … what?”

Eyes that have witnessed some of the worst violence in the realm drift over me with surprise and admiration. “I’m sorry, Leni.”

Maybe I should punch people more often.

Another shout, followed by a curse. A door shuts.

“That’s him,” Atlas says urgently, dragging me again, rushing toward the commotion. A door swings open, and Lev stumbles out, barely able to stand.

“Thank fuck,” he wheezes when he sees us, collapsing against the wall and raking back unruly hair. The male who once seemed invincible crumbles to an echo of his former self. “Talk to him,” he begs at me. “You have to talk to him.”

Atlas nods at me, pushes me into the room.

I take a deep breath, acid raining over the inside of my lungs.

Metal chains bind Cross to a bed. To little more than a threadbare mattress. Sheets lie torn beneath him. Red and white confetti.

His arm is taped over a dozen times with bandages and needles and he’s screaming.

He’s screaming like he’s being boiled alive, flailing against the chains, clawing frantically.

“What is happening?” I whisper, tears welling. Raw eviscerating heartache clears my anger. I shift my gaze to the Blackguard dejected in the hall. “What have you done to him?”

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