Page 68 of Shadows Rising

“I think we both just got a very detailed reminder of what we’re not getting,” I snap, then immediately want to take it back because that’s too honest. Too raw.

Something flickers in his silver eyes—understanding, maybe. Or recognition. “Finn—”

“No.” I step back, but there’s nowhere to go. The wall is right behind me, and he’s right in front of me, and suddenly the hallway feels too small for both of us. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend like that didn’t just happen. Pretend like we don’t both want—” I cut myself off, shaking my head.

“Want what?” He’s closer now, close enough that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. Which I absolutely do not want to do.

Liar.

“You know what.”

His eyes drop to my mouth for just a second, but I catch it. The tension between us ratchets higher, dangerous and electric.

“We should talk about this,” he says quietly.

“Should we? Because I’m pretty sure talking is the last thing on either of our minds right now.”

The silence stretches between us, loaded with everything we’re not saying. Everything we felt through the bond. Everything we want and can’t have and are too fucked up to figure out.

Finally, Malrik steps back, giving me room to breathe.

“This isn’t over,” he says, and it sounds like a promise and a threat all at once.

I push past him, shoulder brushing his in a way that sends sparks down my spine. “Sure it isn’t, prince.”

But as I walk away, I can feel his eyes on me until I turn the corner.

The shadows around me shift and fade, leaving me alone with the taste of something I can’t name and the certainty that I’m in way over my head.

Chapter 33

Darian

I should be checking the perimeter wards.

Or cataloging supply routes. Or doing literally anything that resembles the strategic planning Alekir expects from his perfectly controlled operative.

Instead, I’m sitting on the floor of an abandoned storage room like some broken toy someone forgot to put away.

My knees are drawn up, shirt clinging to my back with sweat that won’t dry no matter how long I sit here. The stone wall offers nothing—no comfort, no answers, no absolution for what I’ve become. Just cold granite that reminds me how far I’ve fallen from the pristine Light Faction student who used to have a future.

I haven’t slept. Or maybe I haven’t woken up yet. Hard to tell the difference when every moment feels like I’m still trapped in that cell, still wearing invisible shackles, still hearing the echo of a scream that never quite left my throat.

The corruption writhes beneath my skin, restless and hungry. It wants something I can’t give it. Or maybe it wants something I won’t admit I want to give it.

Either way, we’re at an impasse.

I drag my hands through my hair, noting distantly that they’re shaking. Pathetic. The great Darian Luthar, reduced to trembling in storage rooms like a—

The bondexplodesthrough me.

No warning. No gentle buildup. Just raw, overwhelming sensation that hits like lightning striking water.

Her.

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