Chapter 33 · What the Door Wants

I come back to myself with blood in my mouth and Cain on his knees.

The blade's still in him. Silas is on the ground ten feet back, throat torn but healing fast, and the door behind him is burning white-hot, cracks spreading across the stone floor like something underneath is trying to claw its way up. The red's still singing in my veins but I shove it down, force my hands to stop shaking, because Cain is looking at me like he's about to say something stupid.

"Don't." I'm across the space before I decide to move, catching him by the shoulder. "Don't you dare."

He coughs. Blood on his lips. "Lila—"

"Shut up." I grab the hilt. He makes a sound and I freeze. "I have to pull it out."

"Not yet." His hand closes over mine. His grip's weak. That's wrong. Cain doesn't do weak. "The door. You have to—"

"I'm not leaving you here to bleed out while I go play hero."

"It's not playing." His eyes are too pale. The bond's pulling tight between us, panicking, trying to knit him back together and failing because the blade's still there, still bleeding him.