“What?” Morgan could only stare at Neil, feeling crushed after everything they risked to get him back. “Why?”

“Release him.” Ethan chuckled, taking pleasure in her pain. “He’s been a somewhat shoddy partner, but he did ultimately help me achieve my goal—locating you.”

Neil couldn’t look her in the eye as he was hauled none-too-gently out of the cage.

“Enter the circle and strap her down.”

“But you promised—”

Ethan spun and backhanded Neil so hard, his head whipped violently to the side, and nearly sent the kid to his knees. “Strap her down.”

Neil shuffled forward, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and she struggled not to feel sorry for him. Morgan could overpower him in a second, but it would solve nothing. Neil crossed the barrier and the wards wobbled, but held. When he stopped in front of her, he couldn’t lift his gaze from his feet.

“Please.” His voice was a hoarse croak.

Everything inside her rebelled at the idea of being strapped down, but she was conscious of the guys still being held behind bars. If she fought, they would be the first to die.

No, she had to wait and bide her time.

It hurt to docilely lie on the altar.

Draven was yelling at her to fight, while Atlas watched impassively, his dark green eyes stormy with the emotions he so hated to show. Ryder was struggling to remain human, but Ascher and Kincade worried her the most. They stood side by side at the cage door, their faces carefully blank as they were forced to watch while she was slowly tortured to death.

It was beyond cruel.

Their rage and helplessness rippled through the bonds, and she did her best to sever her ties with them. If she couldn’t break free, she wanted to spare them at least that.

She was hurting them by not fighting, but she couldn’t bring herself to trade their lives for hers. Wouldn’t.

Something inside her would shatter if anything happened to them if she could’ve prevented it.

She ruthlessly kept gathering magic, until it practically crackled in the air around her. The barriers were doing their best to crush her control, but she refused to relent, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Cold shackles clamped down on her ankles first, the chains surprisingly heavy. Neil circled the altar, his throat bobbing painfully as he picked up a metal cuff. He moved jerkily, his chest heaving. “I’m sorry. I never wanted this.”

“Then why?”

“I’m dying.” For the first time, he looked up and dared to meet her gaze. His soft brown eyes were dark and tortured. “The void weapons were keeping me stabilized for a while. They staved off death, but didn’t stop the progression. My powers were consuming me from the inside out faster every day. I needed more. He promised me a cure, something only the primordial realm could provide.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve tried to help.” He secured the cuff on her wrist, studiously avoiding her eyes.

“You are helping me.” He scurried around to the opposite side of the altar, and clumsily snatched up the last cuff, hastily snapping it around her wrist before backing away. “You’re saving my life.”

“Weeeelllll, not exactly.” Ethan smiled from outside the circle, spinning a black dagger between his fingers. “I mean, if you asked her, she probably would have been able to save your life by filtering and purifying the magic—she has an affinity with the void like none I’ve ever seen—but seeing as she’s busy and all tied up with other things at the moment, she just doesn’t have the time.”

“What?” Neil barely croaked out the question as he slowly straightened. “You promised.”

“And you took too long,” Ethan snapped, his patience at an end. “You’re too far gone. Your body interprets the magic you so love as poison, and it’s trying to rid you of it. We all know removing magic from a witch will kill them, you most of all—especially after all those girls you experimented on at the Academy. It would take too much valuable magic to reverse the effects of magical poisoning, and you’re not worth the effort, even if I was inclined to try.”

Neil slowly turned toward her, defeat slumping his shoulders, his spirit completely broken.

“I’ve been waiting years to finish this ritual, years waiting for just this moment.” Ethan entered the circle, practically crowing his victory.

The muscles of her back flinched as memories of the runes being seared into her flesh flashed in her mind. She tugged on the cuffs, surprised to feel a slight give, the metal thinning even as she watched.

“This bridge will create a vast new world of possibilities.”

Morgan tore her gaze away and focused on Ethan, not wanting to draw attention to the cuffs. “Too bad I won’t be around to witness it.”

Ethan nodded, completely missing her sarcasm. “Yes, it is unfortunate that the process has the nasty side effect of killing you, but the portal can only have one master—me.”

Before she knew what he intended, he lashed out with the knife, slicing a deep line down the length of her arm. The instant the blade came into contact with her blood, it glowed a deep red. Because it was a void weapon, it was sharper than most, and would take longer for her body to heal. Blood splashed to the floor in a steady drip, but instead of collecting in a puddle, small droplets began to roll toward the symbols etched in the circle.

When her blood struck the first symbol, it blazed a dark purple, and it felt like someone had punched a hole into her chest and squeezed her heart in their meaty first. Her back arched off the altar, her vision dimmed, and she struggled to stay conscious.

She now knew what it felt like to have her soul ripped from her body—every hint of emotion, every second of joy in her life was being taken from her.

The rusty color of the stones now made sense—they were stained with blood after decades of sacrifices.

She barely felt the cuts on her legs.

“It’s working!” Ethan sounded giddy, and she had to struggle to focus on him. She turned her head, her neck so stiff it felt like it was made of stone and creaked as she moved. “More than half the symbols are done. No one else has ever survived this far.”

He beamed at her like a proud father. “I knew you could do it.”

And he was right. Magic thickened the air, reminding her of what it felt like to travel in the void. The wonder and awe. The sense of coming home.

It was beautiful.

And it was slowly killing her.

A nasty cut on her arm yanked her back to the present, and her eyes snapped open. The magic around her wavered, reacting to her emotions. It didn’t like that she was in pain. The more she fought, the clearer her head became, but it also made the torture more painful. Pressure pounded in her skull like a pickaxe, the insistent thudding shredding her concentration.

Very slowly, the magic began to perforate her mental barriers, and blood leaked out of her pores like she was being wrung dry.

Neil shuffled slowly closer, watching Ethan like a mouse caught in a hawk’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Morgan tried to nod, but her head felt too heavy. “Me too.”

She couldn’t blame him, not really.

If one of the guys was dying, she wouldn’t even hesitate to kill if she thought it would save them.

“You were my only friend, and I…” His throat bobbed painfully as he swallowed, then a hard look settled on his face, and his gaze sharpened on Ethan. She could feel his magic, an almost alien thing compared to hers, gathering in the air. “I made a mistake. I hope someday you can forgive me.”

Despite knowing his magic would kill him, he didn’t stop. She tried to grab for him, stop him, but he remained out of reach. “You will never kill him, not within the circle. If you want to help, get the others out.”

Neil hesitated a moment, peering down at her for the last time, his glasses askew and smiling at her like he did when they’d first met. “As you wish.”

He brought his hands together, and a clap of thunder rocked the room when his magic exploded out of him. The screech of metal as the cage bars were wrenched open was like music to her ears. Neil dropped to his knees, completely spent and dying, blood dribbled down his face from his eyes and nose, staining his lips red as it bubbled out of his mouth.

The guys came out of the cave system swinging, tearing into the guards. Body parts, hell—whole people went flying across the room. The students were outnumbered nearly two to one, but it didn’t matter. Their rage fueled them, and blood quickly spilled on both sides.

Kincade and Ascher fought back to back. Ascher used her black blade to hack away at anything that got too close, while Kincade destroyed his opponents with one blow, his inhuman strength giving him the edge. Draven and Atlas were unstoppable, anticipating each other’s needs as they destroyed one soldier after another in a whirlwind of motion. Ryder fought alone, systematically working his way closer to her, his size and brute strength clearing a path.

Ethan spun in a circle, watching the chaos in disbelief.

“No! No! No!” Ethan stormed toward her, lifting his blade high, ready to plunge it into her chest, when Neil lurched to his feet and threw himself between them.

He gave a startled gasp as the blade sank into his back, staring into her eyes as life slowly drained out of him, his weight settling over her.

Morgan was stunned that he would sacrifice himself to save her, and she gave him the only thing she could. “I forgive you.”

He gave her one last, sweet smile, tears glistening in his eyes, before they slid closed for a final time.

She began to suffocate from much more than his weight as grief welled up in her, tightening her throat and stinging her eyes. When Ethan reached to pull his body off her, Morgan allowed her need for vengeance to break free. She pulled on her arm and the metal stretched, then shattered like glass.

She lifted her hand in time to catch Ethan’s arm as the blade descended, blocking the blow meant to slice her throat. A vicious roar of absolute fury thundered through the room as Ryder launched himself through the barrier, plowing his bigger body into Ethan’s much smaller frame.

Both men flew back, crashing to the floor in a bone-jarring thud, and she winced in sympathy. Morgan used the distraction to break the shackles binding her ankles, the metal twisting away at her command.

She twisted and sat upright in time to see Ethan and Ryder circling each other. Ethan was battered and bruised, but he managed to land a few good blows with his knife, the cuts on Ryder’s chest and arm bleeding freely.

Instead of being scared, Ethan appeared unconcerned as he calmly twisted his arm up and activated a sigil tattooed near his wrist. A bright red mist floated in the air around Ryder like little gnats attacking. Ryder stepped back, swinging his hand to dispel them, but with every breath, he inhaled more and more of the spores.

She watched in horror as Ryder slowed, then stopped completely.

“A nifty little safety measure I had installed. It freezes my enemies for ten seconds.” He gave her a malicious smile. “It was very effective on your mother, too, when that bitch had the audacity to whisk you away before I could follow through on my plans. She suffered for defying me.” Ethan smirked at her and lifted his blade toward Ryder. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Morgan rolled across the top of the altar, only to lurch to a stop when the last chain on her wrist pulled taut, nearly jerking her arm out of her socket. She watched in horror as Ethan walked up to Ryder and calmly gutted him while he remained frozen.

In slow motion, she watched the big wolf drop to the ground.

Devastation eviscerated her, and she watched as blood pooled under Ryder’s too-still form.

Something inside her snapped.

She ripped her arm free of the last chain, barely feeling pain when the rough metal edges tore into her wrist. Rage and loss twisted inside her like an unstoppable force, an untamable wildness that rekindled her magic like a spark to tinder, and the shimmering runes on the floor faded when the power was sucked back toward her like a giant, unstoppable wave.

The red barrier wilted until a light sheen of purple rose, preventing Ethan from escaping her wrath, and stopping anyone else who wanted to keep her from doing what needed to be done. “This ends now.”

“Agreed. I’ve come too far to be thwarted again.” His face settled into hard lines, his eyes darkening a little in desperation when he noticed the change in her, his grip tightening on the knife as he began circling her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ryder hold his gut closed as he dragged himself across the floor toward her. When Ethan lunged for her, Ryder dropped to his side and stretched his arm out as far as he could reach, catching Ethan’s ankle.

Her cousin shouted in surprise as he began to fall. Morgan didn’t hesitate and swung her leg, kicking the blade out his hand. She grabbed the torque around her wrist, and it easily uncoiled into a thin strip of metal. Before Ethan could push himself off the floor, she wrapped the garrote around his throat, knelt on his back, and heaved back with all her strength.

He bucked and twisted, but Morgan refused to relent, not really feeling the blows, nor his nails as he desperately clawed at her forearms like a frantic little rat trying to break free.

Blood trickled down his back, coating her hands and the knee she had pressed against his spine. Only when he stopped moving, when his arms dropped uselessly to his side, did she finally loosen her hold and watch dispassionately as his lifeless body thumped to the ground.

It was over.

Or it should have been.

Yet the fighting around her continued unabated. Her men were surrounded, bloody and battered, and losing ground. Morgan staggered to her feet, her torque dropping to the ground as she grabbed every ounce of magic around her. The shield bowed under her demand, then began to stream toward her. She ignored the way the magic burned through her body like a fever, short-circuiting her brain. The only thing that mattered was protecting her men. The rest of the world fell away.

The air rippled when a rift tore open at the entrance to the room, revealing a dark pit of nothingness. A wicked, ice-cold wind whipped through the room, the howl deafening. The instant it touched one of the soldiers, an inky blackness gathered behind him like a giant fist and yanked him through the portal.

One after another, the soldiers disappeared.

When the others noticed the disturbance, a few tried to run, but it did no good. The students and her men hurriedly put their backs to the wall. The wind ruffled their clothes, tangled their hair, but ultimately left them alone. As the last man was sucked into the portal, the rift snapped shut with a loud crack and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Her strength deserted her, and she fell to her knees.

Beneath her, the floor was wet, and her brain had a hard time processing what she saw.

She lifted her hand from the sticky mess, staring blankly at the blood, when memories rushed back so fast her head spun.

Ryder!

“No.” The denial was torn from deep in her soul. Knowing she was too late, Morgan frantically searched the room, then scuttled across the floor on her hands and knees when she finally spotted his still body.

Careful not to hurt him, she cradled his head in her lap, her tears splashing his face. When his brows wrinkled in annoyance, her sob caught in her throat.

He was alive.

Her senses returned in a rush, time returned to normal, and the world came back into focus.

But even as she listened, she heard his erratic heartbeat slow, his lungs rattling as he struggled for air.

Morgan ran her fingers through his hair, gently brushing it away from his face. “I know you can hear me. I need you to fight. I need you to change into your wolf. You told me he can heal anything. Will you do that for me?”

Those glorious brown eyes of his opened, but they were dulled with pain, his wolf nowhere to be found. Panic speared her chest when his heart skipped a beat.

It took forever before she heard the next thump, and she knew they were running out of time.

Only a foot away rested the knife that had almost killed them both, still glowing feverishly from her blood. A reckless, dangerous idea came to her, so stupid it might actually have a small chance of working. Conscious of the men heading toward her, she knew she had only a small window of opportunity.

Snatching up the knife before they could reach her, she lifted her arm, and slashed the blade deep. She didn’t even feel the metal bite into her flesh until seconds later, when it began to hurt like a bitch, throbbing in time with her heart. Kincade and Ascher both swore, and she snarled at them when they tried to pull her away. She held her bleeding arm over the wound in Ryder’s gut, watching the bright splash of her blood dribble down into his wounds.

The blade in her hand warmed, and she instinctively brought it over his chest. The tip of the metal beaded up, and a blob of liquid metal dropped next to the gaping wound in his abdomen. Two more drops fell in rapid succession, and she watched them break apart and sprout legs until they resembled little black spiders. In an instant, they scrambled into the wound and disappeared.

The metal began to drip faster, and more spiders burrowed under his skin.

Ryder gave a terrible scream, his agony sending her stomach pitching wildly, and her hands shook. She nearly lost her nerve and jerked what remained of the blade away, until she saw the little spiders were weaving his injuries together, both on the surface and underneath.

Seconds began to stretch, her body drooping with exhaustion, her shoulders slumping, and she realized she was slowly being drained of magic as surely as her blood continued to escape her veins.

But she didn’t stop, didn’t relent.

She refused to give up on him.

Ryder’s eyes began to glow, his wolf rising, and she knew if she could hold out a little bit longer, he would survive.

Her head swam, and she distantly noted her many cuts weren’t healing. As she stared into Ryder’s wound, she sensed the metal shaping organs, threading together his injuries.

He needed just a few more seconds.

Her heartbeat thundered in her head, and she realized the beats were gradually slowing.

Morgan heard the guys yelling, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Hands were pulling her away from Ryder. Someone cradled her gently, and she struggled to stay conscious, knowing the longer she held out, the better chance Ryder would have to survive, but she couldn’t seem to make her body obey.

“You did it. Ryder will live. He’s resting. You have to let go.” Kincade’s voice reached her from far away, darkness was beginning to crowd the edges of her vision, and the world gradually dimmed.

She didn’t need to be told she was dying, it was written in their devastated faces.

Kincade’s arms tightened around her as if to stop her from leaving him.

Fear came through their bonds, Kincade’s and Ascher’s emotions a living, breathing presence that threatened to consume her.

“What the hell is wrong with her? Why is she not healing?” Kincade’s question was a demand.

“For humans, magic can be lethal. The opposite is true for those who hold magic. Our magic is tied to our life force. The little fool drained herself to save us.” Atlas’s voice was as grim as she’s ever heard it. He almost sounded like he cared what happened to her.

“She couldn’t have known.” Draven tapped the edge of his bloodied knife against his leg in agitation.

“Of course she knew.” Kincade gently threaded his hands into her hair. “She did it anyway to save us. What are our options?”

Ascher was the one who spoke this time. “She needs more magic. Gather every void weapons you can find. Get her torque.”

Cold metal wrapped around her throat, the weight comforting. More metal curled around her wrist and twined around her fingers. The magic hummed against her skin, a lick of energy that eased her pain a fraction, but did little else.

“It’s not enough.” Draven swore viciously. “What else?”

“In the Primordial World, only one place is guaranteed to have magic.” Ascher didn’t lift his gaze from where he was wrapping a nasty wound on her arm.

Atlas turned his grim stare on the hellhound. “You can’t be thinking of sending her into the void.”

“The void might make some sick, but not her. She’s drawn to the rifts because of the primordial magic.” He ripped another piece of his shirt off, then wrapped the wound on her leg, his complete attention focused on his task, as if it was the only thing that mattered. “She’s a pureblood. The void will protect her. In fact, it might be her only chance.” Ascher tied off the bandage, then stared blindly at his bloodied hands, his lips flattened in a thin line. “She will die if we do nothing.”

“He’s right.” Kincade brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “When I step through a portal, I feel a bite of freezing air, a second of darkness, then I’m out. Every time she goes through one, it takes her longer and longer. She lingers in the void. Haven’t any of you noticed how much more relaxed she is when she steps out. Her eyes shine, not to mention her injuries heal in record time. The pure primordial magic acts like a dose of medicine. I don’t like this better than any of you, but I don’t think we have a choice.”

Silence followed that comment.

“Anyone else have any ideas?” Draven gripped his weapons, as if looking for something he could physically fight.

No one spoke.

The vote was unanimous.

Kincade didn’t lift his gaze from hers. “Someone find me a mirror and some rope.”