Page 397 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

Lana’s face twisted into something unrecognizable—rage incarnate. Her eyes went wild, veins bulging at her throat as her mouth split open in a scream so full of anguish it split the world. She vaulted over her mate’s brutalized body.

And the serpent woman laughed.

My horror sharpened into rage when I found her oily smile mirrored in her twin’s face.

The Grayshell assassin wiped both smirks away in a blur of motion.

It was impossible, the way Lana moved. She struck at both twins with a fury that bent light, that blurred edges. I turned back to Ansel, my hands still glowing, still trembling over the deluge of blood, as if I could stitch the pieces together.

“No,” I sobbed, the sound tearing up my throat as time snapped back into motion and I rocked over The Old General—my friend. My teacher. “No, no, no. Gods, please.”

I scrambled back, staring at my hands. At his blood. I wiped it across my leathers in frantic denial.

Freya was screaming. Cyrus cursing, trying to pull her away—but his free hand remained raised, fingers curled tight as shadows flowed into him and the sun crested the horizon.

I turned toward Lana again. She had them bleeding now, parrying with such precision she was driving the twins into each other.

Alec appeared in the center of the lot, rage radiating from him like a heat wave. Flames crawled down his arms, the ground shaking beneath his feet. With Alec inbound, I twisted around, hunting for Aren.

I found him as his dagger plunged into Bellamy’s side, his face contorted in brutal, frozen rage, mouth open in a war cry that rattled the bones in my chest.

My heart cracked.

Bellamy looked down at the blade in his gut. Shock. Anger. Disbelief flickered in his eyes before Aren wrenched the dagger free.

Violence reigned around me. Every beautiful thing I had ever loved was breaking—Blythe, Ansel…Bellamy. My city. My soul.

Tremors shook my limbs. My vision burned. One horror bled into the next.

The rooftop’s edge still burned with fire, the street below echoing with Ally’s pain—so tangible it felt like it lived in my bones. The sky cracked open in answer. Thunder boomed. Rain fell in torrential sheets as forks of lightning stabbed the ground again and again, turning the street into a battlefield.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Each strike shook the earth, lighting new fires.

Alec bellowed as he lunged for Moros, nearly skewering him—until Marlana dove, dragging her brother off the roof. My breath hitched.

Hope flared. But two ravens took their place, trailing blood in their wake.

“Motherfucker!” Alec roared, hurling a blade after them. It missed. Of course it missed.

And I⁠—

I could do nothing.

Just wait for the next body to fall at my feet. Just pray.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Then louder: “I’m so, so sorry.” I staggered to the edge of the roof. Felt the bruises from where my knees had slammed into the concrete as I’d crawled for Ansel, desperate to save him. To make it right. I welcomed the pain. I deserved the pain.

My heart was splintering—no, shattering—into something unrecognizable.

Tears streaked my cheeks as I turned to see Freya break free of Cyrus’s hold and fling herself over Ansel’s body. Cyrus dropped to his knees beside her, haunted eyes meeting mine. His mouth parted, hopeless. Despair clung to him like ash.

Then strong arms wrapped around me. I was hoisted off the ground. The energy shift hit me like a blade.

Across the rooftop, I locked eyes with winter-blue ones, wide and terrified. Aren lunged. His sword clattered to the concrete.

I screamed, fighting against the grip, trying to plant my feet⁠—

Too late.