TheMathairsare running now, their dresses billowing as they retreat into their castle. Cowards. They’ll die for this. But right now, none of that matters.
Only her.
I reach her in three bounds, my body already shifting before I touch the ground beside her. My fur melts away, leaving me bare on my knees beside her. Everything narrows to the sight of her blood on my hands as I press them against her wound.
“No, no, no. Stay with me. Please.”
Blood seeps between my fingers no matter how hard I press. Her skin is already too pale, her breathing too shallow. The tether between us flutters weakly, like a bird with broken wings.
“Chun tú,” I whisper, the ancient words falling from my lips like a prayer. “Geallaim mo chroí agus anam go deo.”
Her eyes flutter open, focusing on my face with effort. “Bast.” My name comes out as barely a breath. “You came.”
“Always.” Tears blur my vision as I pull her closer, cradling her against my chest. “I’ll always come for you. Just stay with me. Please.”
One of Lawrence’s witches stands guard over us as the battle moves toward the castle, following theMathairs. The sounds of fighting echo in the distance—spells crackling, wolves snarling, stone crumbling. But all I can focus on is the weak thump of Bridget’s pulse beneath my hands.
“Chun tú Geallaim mo chroí agus anam go deo,” I chant again, pouring everything I have into the words. Into her. “Come back to me.”
Her fingers brush my cheek, leaving trails of her own blood on my skin. “Thank you,” she whispers, “for showing me what real love feels like.”
“No.” The word comes out as a snarl. “Don’t you dare say goodbye. We’re not done.”
I repeat the bonding words again and again, each repetition more desperate than the last. Her eyes drift closed, head growing heavy against my shoulder. The tether between us stretches impossibly thin.
Then I feel it—a whisper of power, different from before. New marks begin to etch themselves around her collarbone, spreading up her throat like vines beneath the T-shirt. The designs shimmer emerald green, nothing like the dead black bands around our wrists.
Matching marks burn into my own skin, and suddenly I can feel her again. All of her. Everything. Her wound begins to close beneath my hands, flesh knitting together by the same power that marks us. My wolf is healing her. The bond is healing her.
The tether pulses stronger, brighter.
Then Bridget gasps, her entire body arching as her eyes fly open. When our gazes meet, my world explodes back into color—those impossible emerald eyes blazing with life, with magick, with everything I thought I’d lost forever. A sound tears from my throat, half sob, half wolf’s cry of triumph, and I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in like a drowning man breaking the surface.
“Bast,” she breathes, and this time my name sounds like a beginning instead of an end.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bridget Winslow
Safe in His Arms
The bond floods back through me like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Complete. Perfect. Whole. Every heartbeat pulses with the familiar connection I thought was lost forever. Bast’s presence fills that terrible void theMathairshad created inside me.
I’m cradled against his chest, his skin warm against my cheek. Love and relief wash over me in waves so intense they bring tears to my eyes. All I can focus on is the steady thump of his heart matching mine, the way our breath syncs naturally, the absolute rightness of being connected again.
“Brianna?” Her name comes out as barely a whisper, panic fluttering in my chest as memory crashes back.Did she make it out?
“She’s safe,” Bast murmurs against my hair, his arms tightening around me. “Outside with Emma. Protected. Finn stayed outside with them.” His fingers trace gentle patterns on my skin where the knife went in, though there’s no wound there now. Just smooth flesh and dried blood on ruined fabric.
My fingers find Bast’s and his hand covers mine protectively. I sag in relief against him. My sister is safe. We’re both free. TheMathairsdidn’t win.
“I thought—” My voice cracks. “When they broke our bond, I thought that was it. That I’d never feel this again.” Never feel complete. Never feel his soul touching mine, his strength flowing through me, his love surrounding me like armor.
“You. Are. Mine,” he growls, the sound rumbling through his chest where my ear presses against him. “They can try to separate us, but I’ll always come back to you.”
I force myself to look beyond Bast’s embrace, to take in what’s left of the courtyard where I spent countless hours training. Bodies litter the perfectly manicured grass. It’s terrible and tragic and I wish there had been another way to overthrow theMathairs. There wasn’t. There never would have been. We’re lucky it didn’t cost even more blood.
Bast helps me stand, his hands steady as my legs shake. His protective instincts surge as I sway slightly. But I need to see this.
