But I don’t stop.
Sienna.
Her presence blazes through the mate bond—golden, fierce, terrified. She stands in the center of the chamber, Callum clutched to her chest, one hand outstretched as her Bridge power struggles to hold back the thickening mist. Blood streaks her bare feet. Her eyes meet mine across the chaos, wide with desperation and love that cuts deeper than any silver.
Hold on, I send, forcing the words through the agony. I’m coming.
Another chain snaps under my wrists. The metal screams. Blood runs hot down my arms. Owen thrashes inside me, feral and primal, demanding blood. The variant tries to fracture us—flashes of mindless rage, visions of tearing apart everything, even allies—but her light anchors me. Callum’s tiny spark pulses in the bond like a war drum, feeding me s
