Ryker turned just in time to catch Elena as her body gave out. She collapsed into his arms like a ragdoll, her head falling against his shoulder, her skin cold and frighteningly pale. He gathered her close, cradling her as if she might shatter if he held her any other way.
Her breathing was shallow, barely there, each inhale a fragile whisper.
“Elena,” he murmured, voice raw. “Stay with me. I’ve got you.”
Her eyelids fluttered once, a faint tremor, then went still.
Sasha and the other witches rushed to his side, their hands already glowing with diagnostic magic. One placed her palm over Elena’s sternum, another at her temple. Their expressions shifted from concentration to alarm.
“Her magic is depleted,” Sasha said quietly. “Completely drained. She forced herself far beyond what her
