Page 116 of Stolen

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I don’t need to look.

I feel her.

A shield at my back, fierce and sure.

This is it.

My heart is pounding, my muscles shaking, but my purpose has never been clearer.

I don’t know if I’ll survive this. If she’ll strike before I can act. If the spell will snap and the blades will fall.

But I do know one thing.

I have to try.

Because I want to be the kind of woman who stands her ground.

Because I want to be worthy of the lord that chose me.

Because I want to be someone my mate can be proud of.

Because I refuse to let innocent children die.

And if this is how I go out?

Then I’ll go out fighting.

For them. For him. For us.

Chapter25

Alaric

Outside The Eyrie

I am elbow-deep in magic, forging stone and steel from will and air, the ancient language of my blood echoing beneath my breath.

Sweat traces lines down my back, heat radiating from the effort of holding so many spells at once.

Beside me, Dagan and Kael shape the walls with precision and grim focus. This temporary structure—part infirmary, part prison—rises from the scorched earth like a scar we’ve etched into the aftermath.

Thorne stalks the perimeter, his fire magic flaring in warning as he reinforces the bindings on the SoulTakers’ remnants.

I call them prisoners, but the word tastes bitter.

Many of these poor bastards were once our own. Bewitched, bespelled, broken in ways that make my stomach twist.

Gods. That they got this close?

That I didn’t see it coming?

That this war touched her doorstep while I stood blind?

It enrages me.

These SoulTakers didn’t just break through our defenses—they wore the faces of people we once trusted.

Warriors we fought beside. Neighbors. Friends. Beasts twisted by darkness, wielding magics not meant for this realm.

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