I muttered Ch 19

He didn’t knock. Just burst through my door like the world was ending, which—spoiler alert—it basically was.

Cassian looked like he’d been through a blender. Armor half-buckled, blood at his collar, that particular kind of fury that meant someone was about to get murdered.

“Pack what you need,” he growled, breathing like he’d run a marathon. “Now. We’re leaving.”

“What the fuck—”

“Don’t ask questions. There’s no time.” His eyes locked onto mine, burning with something that made my stomach drop. “They’ve decided. The King signed off hours ago—they’re sending you back. To Valen.”

I stumbled backward, nearly taking out a chair. “What do you mean, sending me back?”

“A peace gesture. Wrapped in silk, chained with apologies.” His voice was pure gravel and rage. “They were going to drug you, Lucy. You wouldn’t have even known until it was too late.”

The room tilted sideways. “No. They wouldn’t—”

“I caught the guards outside your chamber. Found the vial in the apothecary’s hands.” He was moving now, shoving things into a bag with violent efficiency. “When I went to Toren, he said it was the only way to avoid war.”

“So I’m a trade now. A body for blood.”

“You are not a bargaining chip.” He crossed the room in three strides, hands gripping my arms with desperate force. “You are mine. And they’ll tear you from me over my dead body.”

“Then let’s run,” I whispered. “Let’s run right now.”

He nodded once. Then he shattered the lock with his bare hands.

We rode like hell itself was chasing us. Which, technically, it was.

No banners, no torches, just moonlight and the kind of cold that turned your breath into ice crystals. Cassian took us through paths that probably existed more in legend than reality—cliff edges, frozen rivers, woods so dark they felt like they wanted to swallow us whole.

I clung to his back, heart hammering against his spine, feeling every muscle strain as he pushed the horse beyond its limits.

“How far?” I shouted over the wind.

“Southern stronghold before daybreak,” he called back. “They won’t dare cross the border.”

The bond between us stretched like a rubber band about to snap. Every mile felt like borrowed time.

Hours passed. Dawn never came.

Cassian slowed near a frozen stream, scanning the ridgeline like a predator checking for threats.

“We’ll make it,” he said, but his voice held doubt now.

That’s when the air changed. The bond didn’t just stretch—it recoiled, like my soul had just sensed its own death.

I turned.

Valen’s men materialized from the snow like nightmares given form. Silent, pale, blending into the landscape until they were practically ghosts with weapons.

“Cassian!” I screamed.

The first arrow hit his shoulder with a wet thud that made my stomach turn. He jerked, blood already darkening his coat, but stayed upright.

The second arrow slammed into his side.

He snarled—not human, not quite wolf—and started to shift, bones cracking as the monster inside him fought to get out.

“Stay behind me,” he growled. “No matter what.”

Then he charged.

He moved like violence incarnate. One attacker went down with his throat torn out. Another tried to flank him—Cassian broke his ribs with a casual swipe and kept moving.

But there were too many.

I tried to run—stupid, fucking stupid—but hands grabbed me from behind. One wrenched my arms behind my back, another shoved me face-first into the ice.

“Let go!” I screamed, thrashing like a feral cat. “He’ll kill you all!”

Chains clamped around my wrists, cold metal pressing down on the bond mark. A blade found my throat, sharp enough to draw blood.

“Move and she dies!” someone shouted toward Cassian.

He froze mid-strike.

Turned to see me on my knees, blood trickling down my neck, chains cutting into my skin.

“No,” I choked. “Don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.”

His eyes flickered. Just for a second. But hesitation was all they needed.

The arrow sliced through the air with a whistle that sounded like death.

It struck him clean through the side.

He staggered, breath caught in his throat like a broken prayer.

“Cassian!” I screamed, but he was already dropping to one knee.

Another arrow slammed into his shoulder. Still, he rose. Bleeding, broken, barely holding together—but he rose.

“No!” I shrieked. “Don’t—please don’t—”

He charged again anyway, dragging one leg, leaving a trail of blood in the snow like breadcrumbs leading to hell.

He made it three steps.

Then he fell.

Hard. Final. The kind of sound that meant everything was over.

I screamed his name until my throat tore, until the words turned to blood, until nothing came out but air and anguish.