Page 136 of Shattered Jewel

The room grows quiet except for the thump of my heart and the grunts and moans of my men’s continued torture.

A moment passes, then another, and I begin to fear that whoever or whatever made that noise has already been caught or killed.

Then, a loud, thunderous bang reverberates through the room, followed by the sharp screech of wood splintering from its joints and the harsh clatter of books tumbling to the floor.

From somewhere deep within the library, two blood-curdling screams are abruptly cut short by a sickening crunch. My breath catches in my throat as I strain to hear any other sounds, but all is eerily silent again.

Until a female voice bellows, “How does that feel, you complacent pricks? Are you as shattered as my fucking heart right now?”

I don’t believe it.

Sasha.

Chapter 33

Elara

The shock on the Sovereigns’ faces almost makes up for everything they’ve done to us.

Almost.

But the moment is fleeting. The High Sovereign recovers fast, roaring, “Get her!”

The Scourge Sovereign reacts first. He darts into the archway, intent on hunting Sasha.

I pull at my restraints, both relieved and horrified that my best friend is still here and has willingly put herself in the same amount of danger we’re in.

In the ensuing distraction, the Silent Sovereign glides toward me. He pauses at my side, his cold leather gloves tracing the half-dried crimson symbols adorning my flesh. Yet, his touch isn’t menacing. “It’s time.”

I blink up at him. “What?”

With a slow, deliberate movement, he removes his mask and pulls back his hood to reveal a face I know all too well. A face that fills me with a dizzying mix of fierce love and devastation.

A face I’m in love with, but aged and placed on an entirely unfamiliar body. “You look just like…”

I choke out the words, unable to finish as tears blur my vision.

His only confirmation is a slight nod before he uses his other hand that he’s slipped below the slab to loosen a silk tie at my wrist.

“Run,” he instructs. “Release the others.”

Without waiting for my response, he shifts his attention to the High Sovereign. His stride is fluid, like a creeping shadow unfazed by the sun about to erupt around him.

Like he’s accepting his fate.

The Silent Sovereign’s sudden movement draws the High Sovereign’s attention away from the archway. For a moment, they both freeze, staring at each other.

“Orion?” the High Sovereign asks. In my periphery, Axe’s head snaps up at the name. “What the hell do you think are you doing?”

With a lightning-fast movement, the Silent Sovereign—Orion—strikes the High Sovereign’s throat with the edge of his hand, then rebounds and holds the High Sovereign’s neck in a vice-like grip.

“Orion—what—what is this?” he gasps around the bloodstained hand at his throat.

I don’t have time to watch the rest. Time is precious when you’re balancing on the razor’s edge between freedom and failure.

I look down at my trembling hand, now free from its restraints. I manage to free my other wrist, then crouch over my ankles, pulling at the ties and loosening them enough to slip free. As I slide off the slab, my eyes meet Cav’s across the room, his normally schooled features twisted with concern and surprise as I land on my feet.

I rush over to him, the thumps and grunts of the battling Sovereigns somewhere to my right, my hands already working on Cav’s shackles. They’re more complicated than mine, but I’m desperate, and desperation means speed. My fingers slip, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out in frustration.