I don’t trust myself with either of them.

But somehow, some way, we have to heal the rift between us. I can’t keep hurting them—and I am hurting them. I see the sadness in Abigail’s eyes when Adriel and I fight. I see the grief in his when he forces himself to keep his distance from her, afraid of hurting me. He wants to let himself love her fully, but he holds himself back because of me—because even though he hates me—he still tries to protect me.

It’s not fair to either of them. My soul is theirs. For 2500 years, half of it has been Adriel’s. And now, half of it belongs to Abigail, too. I don’t know why the Norns chose me when I deserve neither of them, but my soul is theirs.

I’ll do whatever I must to ensure their happiness. If I have to sacrifice my own so that Adriel finds the peace he deserves, so be it.

A sharp blade of terror lances through my soul half a second before Adriel’s choked cry rips through the van. "No!"

I whip my head in his direction.

And I see what he’s already seen. Flames billow from the safehouse where we left Abigail, black smoke pumping into the air. Every inch of the building is a blazing inferno.

The same surge of terror that ripped through him rips through me.

"Gods," I breathe, my voice shaking with fear. "Oh, Gods."

Warriors race around out front, carrying the injured to safety. But everywhere I look, there are bodies. Too many bodies.

What did you do, Abigail? Gods, what did you do?

Stephan squeals to a stop at the curb.

Adriel flings the door open, jumping out. I leap out behind him, racing toward the inferno. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I don’t know if it’s Adriel’s terror or mine clawing its way up my throat. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is Abigail.

Please, Gods. Please, let her be safe.

Daric, a young Fae warrior covered in soot and ash, stumbles out of the chaos as Adriel and I reach him.

"What happened?" I demand.

"The Forsaken," the younger Fae growls, looking dazed. He’s bleeding from a wound on his forehead. His jeans are covered in blood.

Adriel grabs ahold of him, snarling in his face, terror for Abigail overriding everything else. "Where is she?" he demands, shaking the younger Fae. "Where is Abigail?"

Daric flinches, and I know. Before he ever says a word, I know.

She’s gone.

Adriel knows, too. His grief slams into me through the bond, threatening to drive me to my knees. "Nei," he chokes.

"I'm sorry, brother," Daric whispers. "We tried to fight them off, but there were too many of them. They took her."

My body goes numb as the words rip the breath from my lungs, leaving me gasping for air. The world tilts violently, spinning out of control.

Adriel stumbles backward, drained of color as shock and grief carve canyons of desolation across his face.

He collapses to the ground, an agonizing cry tearing from his lips. It hurts to hear it—but the pain rushing down the bond he forged between our souls 2500 years ago—the bond he’s kept masked for most of that time—is even worse.

It feels as if he’s dying, his soul being ripped apart piece by agonizing piece. I know precisely how he feels because mine is being shredded the same fucking way.

We failed her. Gods, we failed.

I hit my knees beside him, paralyzed by his pain. Crippled by mine. Every fiber of my being screams in agony as I watch him unravel before me, helpless to do anything.

I swore to protect them, and I failed them both. Abigail is gone—taken by those soul-damned monsters—and Adriel is breaking all over again.

I press my forehead to his, desperate to comfort him in some way even though there is no comfort to soothe this pain. "We will bring her back,” I vow, fighting to breathe through the anguish. “I swear to you, we will."

“Please,” he pleads, the first time he’s asked me for anything in two and a half millennia. His voice shakes. He trembles against me. “Please, Damrion.”

For millennia, I've kept my side of the bond masked, reaching out only in secret. But in this moment, I let him in, grabbing him with everything I am, trying to ground him. It's all I can offer him, the only comfort I have for him. I give it willingly, knowing it's not nearly enough. It'll never be enough.

"She's...she's not gone," Tori whispers from behind me.

"We won't let them keep her," Reaper growls to his mate, trying to soothe her.

Adriel whips his head in Reaper’s direction.

"And what will you sacrifice to get her back?" he growls, his eyes narrowed on the massive warrior. But this isn’t Reaper’s fault. We made the best call we could to protect his mate. Had he known ours would be taken while we rescued his, he never would have allowed us to accompany him.

"Anything," Reaper vows anyway, bearing Adriel’s grief without protest.

"We'll start scouting immediately,” Malachi promises, his mate still drugged and oblivious in his arms. “We won't rest until she's back with us."

"Ja," Dax agrees, holding Rissa as she sobs. "We will find her."

I cling to Adriel, hearing nothing as they make plans. All I can think about is Abigail, afraid and alone, needing me—needing us.

I feel like I’m in Álfheimr all over again, losing Adriel all over again. Only, it’s somehow worse this time around. Perhaps because Abigail is no warrior. Until recently, we didn’t even know she was Valkyrie. We thought she was simply a powerful Seer.

She’s had no training. She knows nothing about war or survival. And her captors aren’t Giants. They’re something even the Jötunn fear. Something so ancient and so evil they’ve been stricken from the record.

Something that’s been trying to get their hands on her for months.

Nei.

They can’t have her. Not her. Not today or any day.

“Find where they’ve taken her,” I growl to Dax as he and Reaper pull me and Adriel to our feet to get us moving. “Now.”

Chapter Five

Adriel

“We need to find her,” Damrion snaps, pounding the table with his fist.

“I know.” Dax tries to soothe him, but he’s beyond that. He’s been beyond soothing for hours. He’s running on pure rage now. “I’ve already sent word to the other Seers. They’re doing what they can to help, but…”