Page 200 of Lana Pecherczyk
He strolled forward with deliberate casualness, each step measured and intentional. Lightning sparking beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed, waiting for the Collector to notice.
Still, she haggled over her precious treasure.
“I’ll bring him to you,” the almost-human promised. “Tell me your son’s name.”
If Cloud were a better Guardian, he’d stop and figure out what this stranger was, why she was here. Maybe he would even use her to get to Nero and kill him, just as he’d done with all the other spies trying to slip into Elphyne.
But he was so close to gaining what he came for.
He kept walking. The market parted before him, vendors and customers alike pressing back against their stalls. Their eyes widened at his Guardian uniform, at the metal weapons openly displayed across his body. Fear rippled through the crowd.
Fear of him.
For what blazed in his eyes.
The Collector sensed his approach. Powerful beings always sensed the arrival of another. Her feathered head jerked up, beady eyes widening as he stopped before her and grinned. The last time they met, he was weak. Powerless. Just another crow bartering for scraps.
Lightning exploded from his fingertips, a force of nature he couldn’t deny any longer. The blast caught the Collector directly in the chest. Her feathered form jerked as electricity coursed through her, wafting the stench of burned flesh and feathers.
Screams erupted. Music to his ears. Perfect chaos.
Cloud waited for the Collector to contact her son, to lay the bait. He waited for that infamous greed to reveal itself. Then he emptied his inner well.
Cloud’s pathto the Umbria roost stretched before him, emptied from the chaos he’d created. Everyone had rushed toward the commotion, toward the Shadow Market to offer aid.
Just as he’d hoped.
No one noticed him descending on dark wings and landing on the muddy field where everything had changed. No one saw him approach the nesting caravan. No one saw his steps slow as he caught sight of River’s mate through the stained glass window.
Hunched over drawings, brow furrowed as she slept. Her skin glistened with sweat despite the cool evening air. The fever was advancing faster than he’d anticipated. When a human burned like that, time was running short.
Cloud glanced around, searching for his triad in the darkness, waiting for them to rush to the rescue, to reveal what they’d always known.
It was never Cloud who’d been the hero. Never him the Well chose to keep its precious magic safe.
There was still time to walk away. To let nature take its course. To accept that some things couldn’t be fixed. Some people shouldn’t be saved. If only he’d learned that lesson himself, he wouldn’t be in this mess alone.
The problem was that her voice still rang in his ear.
Not the angelic one singing, not the one screaming his name in pleasure, not the one taunting him as she plucked his feathers free, not even the one begging for her suffering to end.
If you hate me, then kill me!
Cloud flinched, turning his face as if slapped. But the memory was there, burning with brutal clarity. He closed his eyes and was back in his nightmare, reliving it as though it were yesterday. The airship, two lives slipping in his grip, wings beating furiously, deep blue water below. Rory gripping his forearms, using his own strength against him as she pulled herself up, tilting the world on its axis.
He knew what she was doing, knewexactlywhat truth she’d confess. The same words were pinned to his trove wall. The same words she’d repeated over and over in that Crystal City cell, making sure he’d never forget how little he meant to her. Making sure he could recall them as if written by his own hand.
If I can’t…
She climbed higher, her fierce bloodshot eyes never leaving his.
If I forget…
Her lips moved toward his ear. He braced for her inevitable words.
Then let me go…
“Don’t let me go,” she’d whispered, and then plunged her dagger into his hand around her throat.
