Elena’s scream tore through the night as she stumbled forward, her vision drowning in firelight and smoke. The clearing pulsed like a living heart, the flames beating with Damian’s will. Her lungs ached, her throat scorched, every breath dragging fire into her chest. The heat pressed against her skin like hands trying to claim her, pull her in, consume her. Her knees shook beneath her, each step like wading through molten fear.
Michael tried again to stand, bracing one hand against the burning earth, his jaw clenched against the pain. His clothes were half-charred, his hair damp with sweat and soot, but his eyes, those stubborn, desperate eyes, never left her.
“Elena,” he rasped, barely audible, but somehow his voice still reached her through the shrieking inferno. “Don’t let him break y
