Harringdale had broken free.
And River...
Where was she?
His magic raged in his veins, and his lungs refused to draw breath.
Nikhail searched the bloody space for a sign that his water fae was still here, still alive. Because if she was gone…
If he had to tell Ryker that she’d...
No.
He couldn’t even think the words, couldn’t fathom a world where River was dead and he remained alive and breathing.
Nikhail had endured many things in his life, but that...
He wouldn’t be able to survive that.
He didn’twantto live in a world that didn’t have River in it.
Then Nikhail heard it. A quiet whimper that sliced through his panic and caught his attention. His magic slammed against his veins.
The sound was swiftly followed by a low growl that had Nikhail’s blood chilling.
Alive.
Thank all the gods, River was still alive.
Relief flooded Nikhail’s body, but it was quickly cut short as he rounded the corner that led to the bathroom. He skidded to a stop and shouted for help. Or at least, he thought he did.
He wasn’t sure, because he couldn’t hear anything over the rushing, roaring sound in his ears.
Harringdale, that motherfucking bastard, was holding River against his chest. His hands were partially shifted, and his claws…
Obsidian Sands save him, but the rebel leader’s gods-damned claws were digging into River’s skin. Crimson trailed down River’s cheek and throat, a testament to the harm that Harringdale had already inflicted upon her.
Nikhail’s chest heaved, and his free hand formed a fist.
Fuck the Chancellor and her gods-damned order to keep Harringdale alive. Nikhail should’ve killed him the moment they found him.
Now Taliyah was dead, Indira was injured, and River...
His lungs tightened. He clenched his jaw so hard that his tooth cracked. And that tug within him, the one that had been drawing him to River from the first moment they met, was so strong it nearly yanked him to his knees.
River’s lovely brown eyes were locked on to his, full of so much emotion, Nikhail could barely stand to look at them. She was looking at him imploringly, as if she was trying to tell him something important.
Nikhail had never wished to be able to read minds more than at that moment. Perhaps, if he could, he would know what she was trying to tell him. Perhaps he could’ve prevented this entire situation from unfolding.
But it was too late for thoughts like that.
Nikhail heard footsteps behind him.
“Stop,” Harringdale growled.
The word seemed to boom through the bunker.
“Don’t come any closer,” the rebel leader said. “Or I’ll rip out her pretty throat and paint the walls with her blood.”