Page 53 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

“Can you meet me at the junkyard? I need a lift.”

“Already on our way.”

“Goddamn, I love you, big brother.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Lay low. Cops are scanning for you both.”

“Figures. Hey, August?”

“Yeah?”

“I need a bigger ride.”

With an exhausted sigh, he muttered, “Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not.”

“Get me the specs, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Don’t tell Mom,” I teased, for old times’ sake.

A warm chuckle crackled over the line. “We’ll see.”

“In all seriousness, thanks for coming,” I added, scrolling through my screen to pull up Brody’s burner line. It was time to pay Aren a visit and bring him up to speed. Which, unfortunately, meant I needed a lift—and these two circus freaks needed to get back up north before they missed their mark.

“In all seriousness, no problem.”

“Please,” I scoffed, stomping on the gas. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“Well. It was more fun than twiddling my thumbs waiting for Kingsley.”

I laughed, easing off the pedal before making the turn toward the junkyard. “Well, then, you’re welcome.” Though, somehow, I doubted Alvara—the Angel of Death—left August with much time for thumb-twiddling.

ELEVEN

MERCY

ALVARA

“Move, August.”

He did. But I was faster.

The sharp jolt of pain that cracked through his ribs on impact with the concrete ricocheted through our bond. It took all my focus not to wince before wrenching his neck back, locking my legs around his hips. August resisted—his strength almost enough to overpower my technique. Almost.

I focused on the stutter of his heart as his breaths turned to grunts. Then he tapped out against my arm.

Tucking my chin toward him, I growled, “Don’t you fucking tap out on me. Grayshellians don’t yield.”

Another failed escape attempt. Another wasted session. I zeroed in on the ragged sound of his breathing.

He was better than this. Stronger. He’d spent months training with Aren, Alec, and Ansel—and he was choosing to hold back now? Now, when war was imminent, when our shattered reading gave us nothing in the way of results, and centuries of heartache?

We didn’t have time for this.

Freya had granted us a reprieve for the week, and now wasn’t the time for another.

Irritation rippled outward as I snarled, “There is no mercy out there—fight, dammit!”