Chapter 23 · Only One Gets Out

The floor grabbed my ankle.

Not metaphorically. Not in the creepy-old-house way where you tell yourself the boards shifted.

A black-red line shot out from the circle under my boots, wrapped around my right leg, and yanked.

I hit the stone hard enough to bite my tongue.

"Quinn!"

Ronan slammed into the blood gate from the other side.

The barrier threw him back like it had hands. He crashed against one of the silver pillars, breath punching out of him. The chains around his wrists rattled. Silver smoke curled off his skin.

I pushed up on one elbow, tasting iron. "I'm good. Totally good. Love getting dragged into murder circles before midnight."

The line around my ankle pulled again.

This time I slid three feet across the floor.

My palms scraped over old symbols carved into the stone. They were packed with dried blood. Some dark. Some fresh enough to shine.

At the center of the chamber, the ring on my finger burned hot.

Not warm. Not annoying.

Hot enough that I smelled my own skin.

"Get it off," Ronan said.

I laughed once because what else was I supposed to do? "Oh, wow. Great plan. Hadn't considered that."

"Quinn."