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ophie rushed to Chay, horrified by his appearance. His skin was grayer than the others. The wounds on his chest, hands, and feet too horrible to process. Sophie couldn’t let herself go there. He’d suffered, they’d all suffered, but Chay’s agony lodged in her heart.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he groaned as she cut through the wire binding his hands and feet.

“Shhh. Conserve your strength. You’ll need it to get out of here.”

“You can’t handle this amount of carnage.”

“I’m a big girl.”

His head lolled on his neck. “Scarla, get her out of here.”

Sophie slapped her hand over his mouth. “Scarla is busy buying us time to get you free and out of here, so please cooperate.”

He pushed her hand away. “Get me to a Spaun. I can siphon—”

This time she slapped both hands over his mouth and looked straight into his red-rimmed pewter eyes. “I’m saving your ass whether you like it or not.”

Now wasn’t the time to realize this was the closest she’d ever been to him. Now wasn’t the time to realize his firm lips were beneath her palm, practically kissing her gloved hand. But yeah, danger all around them, death imminent, and she went there.

A memory teased her brain. Rather, it floated to the surface from the deep recesses like a bloated corpse. This was not the first time they’d been this close, touching each other, breathing in each other’s air. Far from it.

Except…if they’d been this close, Sophie damn well would remember it. Something like that she’d never forget. The memory would’ve grafted to her brain.

For so long that’s what she wanted, to be close to him. For him to see her, know her, not as Scarla’s friend, the one they gave a job and a home. She wanted him to see her as she saw him, a living, breathing, beyond sexy, being.

If, at any time, in their short history together, had she been this close where she could clearly see the silver striation hidden within Chay’s pewter irises, have the heat of his body brushing her skin, why would she forget it?

And if that were the case, what else had she forgotten?

“Hey. I could use some saving. I have no problem with you saving me. None whatsoever.”

Sophie glanced at Riél and flinched. Laying on his side, still bound by his hands and feet, Riél gave a weak, yet gruesome grin. Muscles, tendons, skull, everything below the skin on his face and chest lay exposed. “Am I still the handsomest out of this lot?”

“Absolutely.” She moved over to him and carefully freed him from the wire digging into his flesh. Dina had taken care of the rest, but what now? “Any of you strong enough to manipulate the shadows?”

Riél heaved himself into a seated positon. A faint crimson glow swallowed his jade eyes, but it quickly faded. “Ready, but not able. There’s a dampening field of some sort. There are shadows all around us, but they won’t respond.” He slumped and tipped onto Daghony.

On all fours, Dina scurried over. With the entrails and body bits clinging to her clothes and in her hair, no wonder she passed for one of them. “What if we drag you guys to the shadows, one by one? Would you be able to access it?”

“Possibly,” Riél groaned.

“Good enough.” Dina went back to Amaya, who worked to free Sam.

“Yes, but we are not leaving the women behind,” Chay growled.

“Can’t take them into the shadows.” Daghony shoved Riél off him.

“We get you into the shadows, you can heal, pain free.” Sophie insisted.

“Pain free and slowly, or quickly in agony? I’ll take the quick route. I want payback.” Zed ground out.

“Payback,” Kush muttered, his head lolling on his shoulders.

“But we’re not healing. Nothing was done to me, yet I can’t feel my legs. My arms. It’s like all I have is a torso.” Gadreel rested against the mansion’s brick wall.

“Doesn’t matter. We are not leaving you here to fight our battle.” Chay took Sophie’s hand in a weak grip.

Her gaze dropped to their entwined fingers. Why did the memory of her hand in his explode in her mind when this was the first time they’d ever touched like this? She yanked away from him, confused, pain a knife in her temple.

“Sophie?” Chay cupped her cheek.

A string of images, like scattered photos caught in a hurricane, fluttered just outside of her eyesight. Glimpses of people and events, things, sights, smells, fists, and blood crashed together in her mind. None of it could she process. Yet, somehow, they were all connected.

And at the center of it all—Chay.

“Poor Halfing. I’ll be needing a queen. She’s pretty enough. Which one of you UnHallowed will be giving away the bride?”

The bit of color in Chay’s skin drained and the concern on his face morphed into stark fury. He was on his feet and staggering around the side of the building. Kush, Daghony, Sam, Bane, Riél, Rimmon, Zed, Ioath, and Gideon did the same, while Gadreel crawled on his elbows, then somehow found the strength to climb to stand. Dina and Sophie raced to get ahead of them.

Sophie had a second to process Scarla, face down in the mud, not moving. Her voice joined a collective roar and then her feet flew across the muddy front lawn, guns in both hands firing at everything.

And the rage. Oh, sweet, beautiful rage pumping through her system, lubricating her joints, feeding adrenalin to her muscles, she remembered it well.