Page 104 of Fury of the Bound
“Go. Don’t do anything reckless. Watch each other’s backs. Stay alive until I come for you.”
I lean down and press a kiss to my sister’s head, squeezing Drew's shoulder.
He lingers for a moment, worry clear on his face, then he takes her hand and turns away, guiding her through the streets. I stay where I am, watching till they disappear in the crowd.
“If she dies, you're next.”
I didn’t have to look to know who it was. The growl was unmistakable, his voice laced with barely restrained violence. I looked to my side to see Malrik step out of the shadows behind an abandoned building, his hood casting half his face in darkness.
But his eyes—those blood-red pits—were lit with rage, locked on me like I was his next meal.
Perfect. This fucker again. At least he isn’t naked this time.
I know he isn't a vampire, not technically. A blood mage. His magic only worked when he fed; they don’t need blood to surviveor crave it. But most are mad, and he was unstable, lethal, and utterly unpredictable.
And I hated him. Not because he’s a blood mage.
But because he was hers
And I wasn’t.
I didn’t bother looking back. Just kept walking, pace steady, voice flat.
“I don’t have time for all the ways you want to kill me, Malrik.”
It didn't matter. A blink later, he was beside me—silent as smoke, presence heavy enough to choke on.
“I could describe them. I get…inventive when I’m pissed.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second.
“Go find someone else to share your twisted bedtime stories with. I’ve got shit to deal with.”
He lets out a quiet, smug laugh that makes me want to rip his tongue out just to shut him up, maybe strangle him with it for good measure.
“And yet I’m here,” he says, falling into step with me. “Because your shit involves her. And if you get her killed, Darian, I will rip your spine out and shove it up your ass.”
I stop dead, and he does the same. Slowly spinning to face me with that fucking smirk, tugging at his lips like he wanted me to swing first—just so he’d have an excuse to rearrange my face.
“How sweet, but I don’t need a threat from a psychotic blood mage to understand what’s at stake.”
“Funny,” his smirk fades. “Because all I see is a coward too scared to admit that he cares. You have no idea what my little witch is doing for you. You can pretend all you want that you don’t give a fuck about her, just remember she is mine. And if she dies, there won’t be a realm, a god, or devil powerful enough to keep me from making you bleed for it.”
I stare at him, heart thudding in quiet fury.
“Then I suggest you hope she lives really fucking hard,” I deadpan. “Because if she doesn’t, your little revenge fantasy won’t mean shit. You’ll be too busy grieving what you lost.”
I move ahead, weaving through the street without breaking stride, trying to ignore Malrik.
“If you care that damn much, maybe you should’ve followed her instead of letting her walk straight into a death trap.”
He slides a hand into his hooded coat and pulls out a small glass vial. A deep-blue liquid swirls inside, pulsing with a slow, steady shimmer as if it has its own heartbeat.
“I was busy,” he rolls it between his fingers.
I scoff. “Busy doing what? Plotting my murder? Polishing your shrine of severed body parts?”
He grins, all teeth and quiet menace. “Tempting. But no.” He holds up the vial between us, letting the light catch on the swirling contents. “I was making this.”
