Page 74 of Fury of the Bound
The words hit like venom—and something inside me snapped.
Before I could think, my fist connected with his jaw, the crack satisfying as hell. He stumbled back into Kieran, who looked one second away from doing the same.
To hell with his OCD, and as long as he didn’t touch me, I was safe. Nobody speaks to me like that.
“I get that you’ve got a problem with me,” I said as I stretched my hand out. “And I get that your anger comes from loving them—but next time you talk to me like that, it’ll be more than just a punch to the face.”
Darian was still rubbing his jaw, muttering numbers under his breath, but I ignored him. I turned my attention to Kieran, who’d been silently watching.
“Is Ronan okay?” I asked, my tone softening.
Kieran nodded once, then dragged a shaky hand through his hair. His fingers were streaked with dried blood, and something in my chest tightened.
He was struggling.
“He’s worried about you. He wanted to come, but it's too risky. Vesperas has been watching him closely, so we came instead. We need to get you out of here—now.”
I dropped my gaze for a second, forcing down the knot in my throat before looking back up. The tension in the room was thick, shadows stretching long across the floor as the sun was starting to set, and in that moment, the weight of it all hit me.
I was being hunted again, but by a different threat.
And the people I was starting to care about were risking everything to keep me safe.
Chapter 21
MALRIK
“You’re pissing me off.”
I grinned manically at my friend, who was currently staring at all the dead bodies littered outside his place. I don’t know what he expected. If you threaten my woman, you die, simple as that.
I had finally found the last ingredient to the spell that we needed, minus that royal bitch’s blood, and that’s when I heard them. Vampires wandering in Eclipsara woods, talking about taking turns with my little witch, laughing about breaking her. Ruining her and then delivering her broken and bloodied to the King for a reward.
I saw red.
No, I became red.
By the time the first one turned around, I already had his throat open. The second fucker screamed like a fucking girl before I ripped out his tongue mid-beg. The others barely had time to run. They knew who I was.
I carved my fury into every single one of them.
I could’ve boiled their blood from the inside out. Quick. Clean. Beautifully simple.
But where’s the fun in that?
There was no way I was letting them fuckers talk about my little witch like she was some broken plaything to use, something to pass around before tossing her to the king like used meat. That deserved more than a quick death.
So, I took my time. I wanted their blood.
I wanted their screams.
I wanted souvenirs for Ravena.
Slashing throats wasn’t enough, so I ripped out their hearts from their chests—still beating and then lined them out on the floor, ready to crush them with my boot. I gouged out their eyeballs, and they begged as I crushed their limbs until they snapped like twigs. Each bone was a puzzle piece, and every scream a beautiful tune.
By the end, they were unrecognisable. Shredded to nothing. Just a bloody jigsaw for that spineless bastard Draeven to stumble across. A message for him and the other fuckers.
Touch what’s mine, and I’ll show you what madness really looks like.
