Emma felt impossibly light in my arms, as if her very essence had been drained along with her blood. I cradled her against my chest, my fingers careful to avoid the wound on her neck as I carried her up the stairs. The rage that had fueled me moments before had receded to a low simmer, making space for something more terrifying—a tenderness I'd never felt for anyone before her.
Elijah had helped me release her from the chair, his hands trembling with barely contained fury as he snapped the silver-infused restraints from her ankles while I freed her wrists. The metal had left angry red marks where they'd touched her skin, and I'd had to swallow back a fresh wave of hatred for Benjamin Thorne and his accomplices.
"She's going to be okay," Elijah had said, though whether he was reassuring m
