Page 222 of Lana Pecherczyk
Cloud’s lightning crackled in his eyes, weaker than before but still deadly. “Go save your mate.”
The Collector leaped. Three bodies moved as one—muscle memory from hundreds of battles. Cloud went low. Ash went high. River slung Blake over his left shoulder, unclippedPeacemakerwith his free hand, and released a thin razor-sharp line of raw power that sliced a hound’s tail clean off.
Empty.
Depleted.
“Now!” Ash bellowed.
He returnedPeacemakerto his belt, slid Blake into his arms, and launched upward as his triad covered his escape. He bounced off exposed roots, his wings flapping to help him ascend. Wrong. They felt wrong. Should have propelled him higher.
No time to check.
Battle sounds echoed off cylindrical walls. Growls, acid dripping, hissing. Teeth gnashed for blue-tipped feathers when they flapped in range, and in this fucking pit, they were always in range. Somehow, he made it to the top. Before he burst through the damaged grate, he looked down.
Cloud and Ash stood back-to-back, weapons drawn, united against the Collector’s fury.
Up.
“River, wait!” Blake’s panicked voice, suddenly clear. “The diagrams. Aeron.”
“Later.” He spread his wings wider. More feathers tore free. “Hold on.”
Within moments, they were in icy morning air, flying hard. Blake’s light weight felt like an anchor. His muscles screamed in protest.
Wrong.
“The caravan.” Her words grew weaker, almost inaudible in the wind. “Diagrams. Aeron … needs them.”
“You can redraw them.” He banked hard, heading for Helianthus. For Ada. For hope.
“No.” Her hands curled into claws against his chest. “There’s no time.”
“Exactly.”
“Too late for me.”
“It’s never too late.”
“Please.” Trapped tears glistened in her rainbow-tipped lashes. “Let me do this one good thing…”
Her words trailed off. For a split second, he thought he had flown too far from the ground, cutting her off. But she wasn’t in pain, not in that way. The agony came from her soul. It cut River to the core.
She still believed her ex’s poison, still thought she wasn’t enough. “Blake, I lo?—”
Her head lolled. She went limp.
“BLAKE!”
Heart leaping into his throat, he flew harder. Why wasn’t he moving faster? His wings protested. Black and blue feathers created a trail behind them. The moment he noticed, they lost altitude.
The ground, already closer than usual, slowly approached.
Falling.
Failing.
Scenarios and options hurtled through his mind. But he couldn’t think of a way to save them.
