Page 106 of The World Undone

I succeeded, eventually, but it was one of those moments that felt like a lifetime.

Blood coated her shirt and neck, but it didn’t appear like he’d hit an artery.

One small fucking win, at least.

Ro was at her side almost as quickly as I was and caught her as she started to fall.

She was pregnant. And part protector. I had no fucking clue what his bite would do to her. Or her unborn child.

Darius had moved back. He was twenty feet or so away from us now, pounding his fists into a large boulder that stood in the middle of the shallow part of the lakeshore.

“Darius—” I stepped towards him, then looked back at the mess of gore staining Charlie’s shirt, stuck between helping her and stopping him. I froze for a moment, trying to decide where I was of the most use.

“I have her. She’s alive,” Ro said, shooing me forward. “Go. Stop him. Before he attacks her or someone else again.”

I nodded, unable to find words, as I ran towards Darius.

Water bit at my ankles and calves but I hardly noticed it as I reached him.

“Darius—”

He punched his fist into the boulder again. His bones cracked as bits of stone and dirt rained down into the lake, chipped and pulverized.

Blood was everywhere—his and Charlie’s.

“Darius stop!”

He didn’t.

He wouldn’t look at me.

He was punishing himself, trying to keep from hurting anyone—fighting whatever spell or magic had control of him right now.

There’d been moments, since I met him, when I watched him sink into himself. I knew he fought darker impulses. Knew from his brother Claude, that his role as a portal guardian—and the subsequent abandonment of his post—had infected him with shadow magic. The power was hungry and alive, requiring a balance that Darius constantly resisted, warped and dangerous as it was.

I’d never seen it get this much of a hold over him though. Not even close.

I stepped between Darius and the rock, preparing to fend off any sudden attacks if I had to.

But he froze, blinking. Fear shone like a beacon from his stare, gutting me with the war of guilt and bloodlust that tore through him.

“She’s okay. She’ll be okay. You didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t mean it. Breathe, Darius. Breathe.”

His eyes met mine again, brief and piercing, and I could see a world of emotions reflected back at me.

One was strong, clear as day. Betrayal.

I’d lied to him. Had been planning to see this war to my grave for months. And now he knew it.

He shook his head, took a few steps back, until the water licked at his waist. Blood-coated fingers threaded through his platinum locks and he tugged, letting out a bellowing scream that sang equal parts rage and pain.

He tore at his scalp, the back of his neck, his arms, his shoulders, lines of red etched in every bit of skin he touched, painting his misery across the smooth expanse of his skin.

“No, Darius—” I waded over to him and grabbed him in my arms as he shook and thrashed and resisted.

For a fraction of a second, something rippled through him and he stilled briefly.

I thought, for a moment that he was breaking through, that he was fighting his darker impulses back.

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