Page 118 of Dark Fate

Rage and anguish war within me. I whip around, seeking the owner of the voice. "Bring her back, now goddamn it," I demand, ready to tear apart anything that keeps us apart. Dani is my mate, my reason for breathing. And I will stop at nothing to get her back.

Our bond, the intangible tether between us—it's gone. Snuffed out like a fucking candle in the wind. Her light, her essence, our connection—all extinguished as if she never existed. My heart clenches, a vise-like pressure crushing my chest. I sink to my knees, clawing at where my still heart resides.

No. No. No. This cannot be happening.

Without her, I'll spiral into madness, losing myself to the damn demons inside. She is my anchor, my redemption. Futility and devastation threaten to fucking drown me. I failed her—wasn't fucking strong enough to protect my mate. "Fucking bring her back!" I bellow again into the empty space where Dani just was. But only silence answers. No sign or trace of her remains.

Rage boils inside me, violent and scorching. She was ripped away, and I'm fucking powerless. Helpless. Weak. I slam my fist into the ground, relishing the physical pain. It distracts from the shredded ruins of my heart. I need her. Need Dani like air, like blood. She's my light in the darkness. And now she's gone.

"Give her back!" My roar echoes unanswered, a desperate plea that falls on deaf ears, swallowed up by the chaos surrounding me. I'm on my feet again, whirling around, seeking anything on which to unleash the fury that consumes me. My sights are set on the Shades—those Shade fuckers want war? I'll give them goddamn Armageddon, a reckoning they'll never forget.

Power crackles from my hands, stronger than ever before, a raw, primal energy that surges through my veins like liquid fire. Thunder rumbles overhead, the skies darkening to an ominous black, and lightning flashes, illuminating the battlefield in stark, eerie light—that's new. But I don't have time to dwell on the why.

I shred those Shade bastards with my telekinesis and lightning, directing the bolts with a mere thought. The air crackles with ozone, and the scent of burning fills my nostrils.

The winds howl, echoing the torment that grips me. Rain pelts down, a stinging deluge that soaks me to the bone, but I barely feel it. The elements are unleashed, reflecting the chaos within me. She was my lightning rod, the only one able to temper this storm.

More Shades fall, obliterated to ash by my pain. It'll never be enough until she's back in my arms. I'm the eye of my own personal goddamn hurricane, leveling everything in my path.

My roar rivals the thunder, a primal, guttural sound that tears raw and bleeding from my throat.

She has to come back to me. She fucking has to...

She is my everything; without her, I am nothing, a hollow shell of a man with no purpose.

I am lost without her. Utterly and completely fucking lost, adrift in a sea of despair with no anchor, no guiding light to lead me back to shore.

Danica

54

Igasp for air, my eyes snapping open to a brilliance threatening to sear my retinas. I squint against the glare, the taste of iron still thick on my tongue. Panic claws at my chest, memories of the woods—the Shades—flashing like a nightmare's afterimage. Rhyland's arms, Lucian's grip, both desperately holding me, their faces a study in terror.

Then... nothing but the abyss.

I'm sprawled out like a jigsaw puzzle, missing half its pieces, noodling through the scattered snatches of time before the Big Blackout smacked me upside the head. My fingers start dancing all on their own, hunting for that searing hot souvenir—the tree limb that decided to play skewer with my chest.

But all my fingertips find is a blank canvas. Zilch in the way of scratches or scars. And this gown I've got on—so freaking white it's practically radioactive—doesn't have a single splatter of red. Which makes no sense in the state I last remember being in. I hoist myself upright, feeling about as confused as a cow on Astroturf.

The space can barely pass for a room, stretching out forever in a perfect whiteout of walls, ceiling, and everything else. The dome above arches higher the longer I look, adorned with fancy leafy patterns as though painted by an OCD artist. But the weirdest part is the light—no windows, no candles, just this glow seeping out of nowhere and everywhere at once.

It's like I woke up inside a giant freakin' lightbulb.

I slide my legs off what I can only describe as a bed fit for the gods themselves. The sheets are softer than a baby bunny's fur and so white I have to shield my eyes. My feet hit the floor, which is warm and smooth like glass but not slippery.

I take a few steps, wincing at each little sound that gets swallowed up quickly in this giant glowing room. It's so freaky quiet in here. I half expect some horror movie jump scare to come flying outta nowhere.

Columns rise like sentinels along a pathway that seems to beckon me forward. They're carved with figures that dance and battle amongst themselves—a silent war between what looks like angels and demons wrought in stone.

Where the hell am I?

Am I... am I dead?

Did I kick the bucket, hop the rainbow bridge, or whatever other euphemism they use to describe not being alive anymore?

No way. I absolutely refuse to accept that's how my story ends. My heart's pounding out straight in denial at the thought.

I stumble onto a mirror framed up all fancy in silver vines. It's like a vertical pool of still water, giving me a good glimpse of myself. My hair's doing that sexy windswept thing, not a tangle or matte of blood to be seen. But my eyes really grab me—they're brighter somehow, full of mysteries, and holding onto secrets I haven't lived long enough to learn yet.

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