Chapter 15 · The Twelve Brides

"Down!" Kael's arm slammed across her chest and threw her into the wall a half-second before the vault door blew outward.

Heat hit first. Then the floor buckled, and the ceiling came apart in slabs the size of coffins.

"Move!" Seraph shoved him, but he was already turning, already putting his back between her and the falling stone. A beam caught his shoulder and drove him to his knees.

"You idiot," she hissed, dragging him by the collar into the gap under a support strut. "Why would you do that?"

"Would you rather I hadn't?" His voice came out rough, blood at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes." She meant it. She needed to mean it.

Dust choked the air. Somewhere behind the rubble, Lya's voice cracked once — a name, maybe Seraph's — then went silent.

"Lya!" Seraph clawed at a fallen beam, nails splitting on stone. Kael grabbed the other end, and together they heaved it aside. Lya lay curled against the wall, a gash across her scalp, breathing but out cold.

"She's alive," Kael said, checking her pulse with two fingers. "Barely."

"Barely is good enough.