Page 162 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Too easy.

I turned my gaze on the one still in my grasp. “You next, handsome.”

His mismatched eyes flicked to the woman nearby, like he needed permission. My laugh burst out in a breathy whoosh. “Calypso, I assume?”

She didn’t answer, but I saw her then—those haunted hazels framed in the slit of her mask. I stood ten feet from the heiress herself. And I couldn’t capitalize on it.

This mission was to bring Blaz home. Nothing more.

Bitter with wasted opportunity, I changed tactics. Dragging my hostage upright, I trailed my blade across his tac gear, leaned in, and whispered, “Sorry about this.” Then I plunged the blade into his shoulder, careful to miss his subclavian artery.

His scream had the desired effect. When I yanked the blade free and kicked him into the arms of my new target, two Paladins lunged to catch him.

Family. Interesting.

I bolted after the prince, boots pounding the foyer floor and launching me down the steps. Marble echoed behind me—pursuit already underway.

I’d just crested the steps when Reyna’s eyes found mine, her son in her arms. Her mouth opened to call my name⁠—

Two Flyers vanished into smoke.

A body slammed into me and darkness swallowed the world.

Twisting, wrenching, shifting pressure—and then we dropped.

When my boots hit solid concrete, I slammed them down, rearing back so my skull cracked against bone. My heel came down on a foot; my elbow drove into a gut. The man cursed, folding in half.

I spun, blade in hand, chest heaving. He raised his hands in surrender, three more stepping out of the smoke beside him.

“Easy,” he said again, extending an arm to hold back his companions. Bright eyes locked on mine.

I reached for the well of stolen power and jumped—slamming straight into a shield. A ward. I was locked in. Eyes darting, panic rising, I took in my surroundings: a looming warehouse. No windows. Concrete everywhere.

“I suggest you let me out before I paint the floor scarlet.”

“Easy,” he repeated. His voice was silky now, low and assured.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. More of them. I didn’t need to look to know.

When I lunged, I bent through shadow, slicing forward.

He jerked back—barely. My blade grazed his chest, carving through fabric and skin. A thin line of red bloomed.

“This how you usually request an audience?” I snarled, blades flashing.

“This how you grant one?” he gritted out, dodging every swing with infuriating precision.

Then, to my surprise, he dropped his weapon—some unimpressive little OTF knife—and raised his hands, palms down, feet light.

“When you threaten Paladin lives,” he said, circling, “you’re lucky to draw another breath.”

He snapped for my wrist, trying to lock my elbow. I dropped the blade to avoid a reversal, hissing. My other blade sliced across his arm—but he was already retreating. Fast. Graceful. Like shadow incarnate.

Footsteps pounded toward us. I dropped and rolled, landing on my feet as two more males appeared, sizing me up.

“You really live up to your moniker, don’t you?” Mismatched Eyes muttered.

“Sure, now you fucking believe me,” the prince growled.