Page 137 of Kingdom of Chaos
Whatever just exploded, it happened inside the barrier.
Inside the battlefield.
Another explosion, closer this time.
My breath catches.
Kerrim smiles, slow and satisfied, as the sky flares again with unnatural light.
“Ah,” he says, almost lazily, “there it is.”
He lifts his head slightly, listening as another detonation shakes the night air, this time laced with screams. Creature and human alike.
With a sickening sensation, I know exactly what’s happened. The Order is under attack. And from the sound of it, they never saw it coming.
“Sounds like your little trap just snapped shut,” he murmurs, gaze locked on me. “Only problem is, you’re the one caught inside.”
Even though I know he can’t see me, I cast a glance in Talon’s direction again, desperately wishing I could give the signal to let him and the others know I need backup. If he believes I’m still just standing in the field, waiting for Kerrim to arrive, he won’temerge from the tree line, not even if our allies are under attack elsewhere in the park.
It’s what we agreed on. No interference unless I gave the signal. Or my life was in danger.
For the briefest moment, there’s a shift in Kerrim’s expression, muting the menace in his eyes and making him resemble the version of himself I once knew and trusted.
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” he says quietly, and for a moment I almost believe the emotion behind his words. “But as long as you’re alive, the dagger won’t truly be mine. Shadow Striker resists me because of you. You’re its wielder, and until that bond is severed, it’ll never give me everything I need.”
His expression hardens once more, all warmth retreating like a shadow at sunrise.
“You were always strong, Locklyn. But strength won’t save you now.”
And without warning, he attacks.
Thirty-Eight
TALON
Something’s wrong.
That much is clear from the attacks rattling the park, but it’s more than that. A deeper disturbance is brewing.
A low hum beneath my skin, a gnawing pressure I can’t shake.
I stand in the shadows of the trees, eyes locked on Locklyn as she stands in the clearing. I haven’t let her out of my sight for even a second since she stepped away from me. Her shoulders are tense, her chin lifted in quiet defiance, but the way she holds herself—too rigid, too controlled—feels unnatural. Not like her.
She fidgets when she’s nervous. Shifts her weight, cracks jokes under pressure, bites her lip when she’s deep in thought. But this version of her . . . she’s unnervingly calm.Like someone playing the part of Locklyn instead of being her.
If I know anything, I know Locklyn. Every breath, every flicker of emotion that flashes in her warm brown eyes. I’ve studied her in battle, in quiet moments, in the heat of conflict. And this . . . this isn’t her.
Every instinct I’ve honed over my lifetime is telling me it’s not right.
A bead of sweat rolls down my spine, cold and sharp. My pulse hammers in my ears, steady and relentless, as if my own body is trying to warn me of something I can’t see.
I glance to the side. Imogen’s standing nearby, arms crossed, her usual mask of cool calculation in place, but there’s a furrow between her brows that wasn’t there a few minutes ago. Kade, Ares, and the others are waiting too, coiled like predators ready to pounce, waiting for the signal.
Waiting for her.
The plan was simple. We don’t move until Locklyn gives the signal. But standing here, every instinct in me is screaming that we’ve made a mistake. ThatIhave.
The connection between us, whether forged through raw emotion or the tether created through Shadow Striker’s magic that shouldn’t exist but does, is pulling tight. A subtle ache in my chest like a rubber band being stretched too far.
