Victor waved his hand again, sending another streak of lightning at Devon, Felix, and Oscar, but it was an afterthought on his part, since his gaze was still locked on the bag of weapons, and they easily ducked the blast. The fight had moved away from the weapons and Victor headed in that direction, eagerness flashing in his golden gaze. He wanted the black blades first; then he would worry about killing us with his lightning.

Even as I raised my sword to engage the guard in front of me, another man stepped up beside the first one, further blocking my path. My heart sank. I’d never get to Devon now, not before the guards surrounded and overwhelmed me, but at least I’d saved him and the others. I’d done exactly what Claudia had hired me to do all those weeks ago—I’d protected Devon, protected the Sinclairs, protected my Family.

My mom would have been so proud of me right now.

That thought brought a smile to my face, despite my desperate situation, and I knew what I had to do.

“Go!” I yelled. “Devon, go!”

“No!” he screamed back. “I’m not leaving you!”

Even as Felix pulled him back, Devon started screaming at the Draconi guards to stop, fall back, and drop their weapons. Over and over again, he yelled out the simple commands, his voice crackling with his compulsion magic. Many of the guards followed his orders, compelled by his magic to do so, even though they didn’t realize exactly what was happening. But as strong as Devon was in his magic, it still took a lot of power to force someone to act against their will, and he simply couldn’t control them all. For every guard that Devon compelled, it seemed as though there were two more that charged at me, and soon, there were far too many for me to fight my way through.

Devon knew it too. For a moment, our gazes locked and his hot desperation and aching regret knifed me right in the heart. I forced myself to grit my teeth, throw off his emotions, and turn to fight the next guard who charged me.

“Lila!” Devon screamed again. “Lila!”

But I blocked out his anguished cries and kept moving, swinging my sword back and forth, and back and forth, cutting into every single guard that even thought about coming close to me. For a minute, maybe two, I managed to keep them at bay. But there were too many of them, and it simply wasn’t going to be enough—I wasn’t going to be enough.

Not this time.

But I fought on anyway. And every chance I got, I looked past the tangle of guards, the swirl of red cloaks, and the spatter of blood and focused on Devon, memorizing the sound of his voice, the lines of his face, and the exact evergreen color of his eyes. If this was the end, then I wanted him to be the last thing I ever saw—

Something slammed into the back of my skull, causing white stars to flash in warning in front of my eyes. I tried to blink the stars away, but it was no use. Before I even knew what was happening, my sword fell from my hand, tumbling end over end on the street, and I felt myself dropping down to meet it.

I stuck my hands out, trying to break my fall, but it was no use and the cobblestone street rushed up to meet my face.

Then nothing but darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

For a long time, there was just darkness—just a soft, soothing darkness that I was floating along in.

For some reason, I dreamed or imagined that I was in the middle of the Bloodiron River, with cool water all around me, drifting along on my back like an otter. Every once in a while, something would gently brush against my arm or leg or even my cheek, and I realized that it was a lochness tentacle, almost as if I were some sort of toy boat that the creature was playfully pushing down the river. But I didn’t mind. It was almost . . . fun.

I could have stayed in the dream—or whatever it was—longer, but harsh reality eventually intruded, the way it always did.

The first thing I was aware of was the pain in my head and face, where I’d been hit from behind and had fallen onto the cobblestones. It was a dull, steady ache, one that made it hard to open my eyes and actually focus on anything, but I slowly managed it. Everything was hazy and distorted at first, but I kept on blinking and blinking until my surroundings solidified. Then, once they had, I wished I was still unconscious.

For the third time this summer, I woke up as someone’s prisoner. Heavy ropes wound around my wrists and ankles, binding me to a chair. I looked around, expecting to be back in that office in the Draconi warehouse where Claudia and Mo had been held, but instead of a desk, filing cabinets, and other office equipment, all I saw were gray cinderblock walls and meat hooks dangling from the ceiling, along with a single bare bulb that cast out weak, flickering light.

I was in the abandoned warehouse next door, the same one I’d woken up in when Grant had kidnapped Devon and me several weeks ago. Did the Draconis own this warehouse too? Either that, or they just didn’t want to dirty up their own space when they killed me.

And they were going to kill me—I had absolutely no doubt about that.

Still, I must have been really out of it because a giggle rose up in my throat. Here I was in this dark, creepy warehouse again, more or less right back where I’d started at the beginning of the summer. I’d always thought that bad things came in threes, but this was getting ridiculous—

A pair of fingers snapped in front of my face, making me jerk back in surprise. The sudden motion made more pain blossom in my head and face, and I couldn’t help but groan.

“So, you’re finally awake . . . Lila Sterling.”

I froze at the sound of my real name, then slowly turned my head.

Victor Draconi stood in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest. Something silver glinted in his right hand and I realized it was my Sinclair cuff. He must have found it when I’d been knocked out. And judging from his cold, cold glare, he knew exactly what it meant and who it had belonged to.

Victor stared at me for a second, then started circling, examining me from all angles. Blake stood off to the side, his arms also crossed over his chest as he smirked. He finally had me exactly where he wanted me. Good for him—very, very bad for me.

I forced myself to ignore the pain and focus. Victor might have removed my Sinclair cuff, along with the gold Draconi one I’d swiped from the guard, but I still wore my mom’s blue trench coat, and her star-shaped sapphire ring still glimmered on my finger. I shifted in my chair, feeling the edge of my black leather belt and the three throwing stars hooked to it dig into my stomach.