Page 108 of Tethered In Blood

My thoughts still gnawed at me. Every muscle had drawn tight. I needed the fight. Needed the snap of motion, the sting of bone on bone. Needed to knock Garrick on his ass until the storm in my chest bled dry.

I halted when we passed the last row of houses. The world stilled, and my instincts roared to life. The breeze carried a strange, syrupy sweetness beneath the salt. A smell of fruit left to decay in a sealed jar that didn’t belong.

No dogs barked. No gulls wheeled overhead. The fog became thicker than before, crawling low across the ground, claiming it.

My gaze drifted toward the docks.

Mist smothered the piers and pressed with an unnatural weight. It curled between the hulls of fishing boats, slipped beneath abandoned nets, and coiled around wooden beams. It was searching. And the sea listened in silence.

A rat darted across the street, then froze with its tiny chest heaving, before vanishing back into shadow. A crow took flight from a post, wings slicing the mist. A narrow and lean fox stood at the mouth of an alley. Its fur shimmered with dew. Eyes of molten gold fixed on mine. Unmoving and unblinking, it watched me.

The animals knew something was amiss.

Even the air held its breath.

Garrick continued to walk ahead of me, unaware of my unease. “Come on, Broody,” he called, voice sharp in the hush. “It’s been too damn long. I’m itching to get my ass kicked by you.”

Garrickturnedandpivotedon his heel, dodging my next strike with an ease that only made my grip on the hilt tighten. Bastard was toying with me, and he knew it.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Sinclaire,” he said, his breath steady, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I do enjoy the occasional battle of blades, but let’s be honest—right now, you’re about as distracted as a drunk in a brothel.”

A raw growl built in my throat, and I lunged. The crack of our swords clashing echoed through the trees with a burst of sparks. “And you thoughttalkingwould help with that?“ I stepped back.

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?” he shot back, grinning as he deflected my next strike, angling his sword to throw off my momentum. “At least you’removinginstead of brooding in that damned window like a tragic ghost.”

I clenched my jaw, eyes narrowing.

He wasn’t wrong. I had agreed to this because I needed the release, the break in the noise, and the burn in my lungs. I needed to lose myself in movement, in muscle and instinct, rather than letting that sick, relentless rage take hold in my chest. Since last night, it had been simmering beneath my skin, a storm begging to break. I hadn’t slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the way her expression crumpled when the words left my mouth. The way she glared back.

Guilt had festered into something worse. Into fear. Fury.

With each strike I landed, each block, and each breathless clash, I made another attempt to outrun it. But it didn’t work when the bitter words had been carved behind my teeth, when I still saw the way she walked away.

The clang of metal rang out again as Garrick forced me to pivot, his smirk widening. “You know,” he panted, “for someone who claims not to care, you fight like a possessed man.”

“Idon’tcare,” I snapped. My blade hissed, missing his shoulder by a hair.

“Right,” he said, ducking. “And I’m a chaste saint.”

Breathing hard, I bit back another retort. The wind stirred the trees, and their bony branches creaked. Somewhere above, a varrock shrieked—a lean, hook-beaked creature with ragged wings and cruel, gleaming eyes—circling like it could smell blood in the air.

I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to forget. But Garrick persisted. The bastard had always been as relentless as a hound on a smell, especially when he sensed weakness, and even more so when it was me who bled it.

He danced back, cocky as ever, rolling his shoulders. It had been just another game to him. “So, what was it then?” His eyes gleamed beneath the canopy, his usual mischief lurking within them. He feinted left.

I didn’t fall for it. I knew his movements too well, read the shift in his hips, the slight pause before he lunged. I caught him mid-motion, steel meeting steel with a harsh screech. My blade locked against his, and I twisted, grinding hard enough to wrench his grip. He grunted, boots skidding against the damp earth, but held his ground. He bared his teeth and pushed back with equal force.

“Did you say somethingstupid?” he asked, his voice too casual, strained beneath the pressure.

Pressing harder, I forced him lower. Our blades trembled where they met, vibrating with the tension between us. Not just steel—but emotion. Anger. Regret. The things I hadn’t said. The things Ihad.

“Drop it,” I growled with venom.

Garrick’s smirk lingered at the corner of his mouth, even as sweat traced along his temple. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

Of course, he tried to bait me. He knew where to dig. And he was infuriatingly right. I shoved him back, snapping the lock with a snarl, and swung again. The brutal clash of metal rang out through the trees. He caught the strike in time, the impact rattling through both our arms in a thunderclap.

“You always overreact with her,” he added. “That’s how I know you’re scared.”

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