Her eyes opened. They were bloodshot, which made them look so blue, just like the skies from his childhood. So pretty.

Her delicate hand cradled his cheek and he felt a tingling sweep out over his skin. “You didn’t fail me. You never will.”

She said it like she thought they had a future together. Madoc had been hurt enough times to know that it wasn’t looking good. He was bleeding out.

“I’ve called Tynan. He’s coming.”

“How did you . . . ?”

“He drank my blood. We’re connected now.”

“I’m not sure how much I like the idea of your being connected to another man.”

“You’ll get used to it. And once we get home, I’m going to show you exactly how you’re different from any other man in my life.”

“Now, that’s something to live for.”

She gave him a weak smile. “He’s almost here. You’re not going to get away from me that easy.”

Footsteps came around the corner, but Madoc didn’t have the strength to see who it was.

“Looks like you could use more patching up,” said Tynan.

Relief made Madoc dizzy. “A little.”

“Yeah. And I’m Santa Claus. Hold on; this might hurt,” said Tynan. “We’re in a bit of a rush.”

Madoc braced himself, but whatever Tynan did felt like he’d taken a blowtorch to his back. When he laid his hands on Nika, Madoc nearly stopped him, but figured pain was preferable to bleeding to death.

She pulled in a harsh breath, but showed no other signs that Tynan had hurt her.

Tynan was shaking when he pulled his hand away. “There. That’ll do for now. We need to move before it’s too late.”

“Where’s Tori?” asked Madoc.

“Waiting outside, freezing,” said Tynan. “Let’s go before we can’t.”

Chapter 31

Tynan was so exhausted, he barely made it back to his suite. The trip home had been long and filled with silence. Gilda and Angus hadn’t made it out. No one had heard from them. Tynan feared the worst.

Fatigue weighed him down, so strong he could hardly feel the hunger rumbling through him, weakening him. He’d pushed too hard tonight. It had been necessary, but it had nearly killed him.

Later he would feed more. What he’d taken from the Theronai hadn’t been nearly enough to replenish his strength. Right now he needed to sleep, but it had to wait for just a few more minutes.

He went to the spare upstairs bedroom where he kept his lab and took the tiny, lifeless newborn out from under his shirt. There had been so much chaos, none of the others had noticed him hiding the baby under his coat.

And it was a baby, unlike the previous creatures they’d found. It was perfect, every tiny facet of its body an exact replica of a human, or a Sentinel.

Tynan didn’t know why it hadn’t lived, but he intended to find out. And then, when he had, he’d bury the boy in the graveyard with the others who had fallen. This child did not deserve to suffer for its parentage, and Tynan refused to treat it like so much garbage, leaving it lying on a dirty cave floor.

He understood why Tori couldn’t face her child’s death right now, but one day she’d be ready. When she was healed. When she was older. She was still a child herself, but one day he’d be able to lead her to the unmarked grave of her baby, giving her a place to grieve.

Tynan wrapped the infant up in a clean towel and laid it gently in his lab’s refrigerator. It seemed a dishonor to the life that could have been, but there was no help for it. He would do what must be done, as he always had.

Andra raced into Dabyr, ignoring all the chaos. Paul was right on her heels. Neither one of them had slept in days, but her fatigue seemed to evaporate the closer she got to home.

She knew from her phone call that Nika was safe, but Andra wasn’t going to relax until she saw her sister firsthand. And when she’d done that, she had an even bigger issue to deal with.

Nika had found Tori. Alive. After all these years.

Andra still couldn’t believe it—not even after having struggled with the life-changing news for the hours it had taken to get back home. Andra had buried what she thought had been her sister’s remains last year. How could this have happened? How could she have been so wrong? Was Tori’s “appearance” now a trick by the Synestryn, or was the trick played on her when she’d carried a stranger’s bones out of that cave?

If it weren’t for Tynan’s vow that the blood of the girl they found was unmistakably linked to her and Nika, Andra probably still wouldn’t believe it. Maybe part of her still didn’t. She needed to see Tori with her own eyes, hold her in her arms like she used to when Tori was a little girl.

Andra sped through the corridors toward their suite, praying that Nika hadn’t been fooled and this wasn’t all some kind of horrible trick the Synestryn were playing. She so desperately wanted this outcome to be real.

Andra burst through the door. Madoc jumped to his feet and pulled his sword before he recognized her. As soon as he did, his big body melted back onto the couch in a pile of exhaustion. Nika left his side and went into Andra’s open arms.

Andra hugged her hard, breathing in the scent of her little sister’s pale hair. She felt delicate inside Andra’s embrace, but no longer quite so fragile.

When Nika pulled away, her blue eyes were wet and she wore a bittersweet smile. “Tori’s alive.”

Emotions swelled inside Andra, jumbled together in an almost indecipherable pile. She felt relief and joy that her baby sister was safe, but shame that she’d written her off for dead. “I need to see her.”

Nika nodded and led her down the hall to the spare bedroom.

Tori lay on the bed, sleeping. She looked pale and thin, but what was most striking was that she looked exactly like the girl Andra had seen in her mind last year. She’d been trying to find Sibyl, who’d been abducted, and instead she’d found a girl she’d thought was a younger version of Nika.

In that moment, Andra knew the truth: This young woman was the baby sister she’d lost nearly nine years ago—her sweet Tori.

Tears burned Andra’s eyes and her throat ached, fighting the need to cry. All these years. She’d left Tori in the hands of those monsters, abandoning her for dead. Shame welled up inside her so thick she couldn’t breathe. How could she have seen Tori and not known who she was? How could she have walked away without recognizing her own sister?

Tori opened her eyes, but there was no warm greeting in them—just a cold, distant stare from a stranger.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, unable to find enough air to speak. Not that it mattered. Nothing she could ever say would make up for what she’d done—what she’d allowed the Synestryn to do to Tori.

Tori said nothing. Not that Andra blamed her. What was there to say? The common response of “It’s all right” simply didn’t apply. What Andra had done wasn’t all right. Neither was Tori. Part of her was missing, as if the Synestryn had scooped out something vital and left a hollow spot behind.

Andra reached out, but Nika’s subtle jerk on her hand stopped her. “It was you I saw last year, wasn’t it? It was your mind I reached, thinking you were Nika.”

“Yes. That was me.”

“Oh, baby,” breathed Andra, breaking Nika’s grip. She couldn’t hold herself back any longer. She had to hold her baby sister in her arms.

Tori sat straight up and held her hand out. “No. Don’t touch me. I don’t like to be touched.”

Andra stopped as her heart broke open, pouring a river of anguish into her chest. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were alive.”

She felt Paul’s presence slide into her mind, comforting her. A moment later, his strong hands were on her shoulders, giving her silent support.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Tori. “What’s done is done.”

Andra wanted to say she’d find a way to make it up to her, but how could she? How could she do anything to make up for years of imprisonment, torture, and rape? How could anyone? All she could offer was another hollow apology. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“I’m tired,” said Tori. “Please leave.”

Andra found the strength to walk away, because it was all she could think to give her sister. Nika was right behind her. As soon as the bedroom door clicked shut, she let loose the tears she’d been choking back.

Paul gathered her into his embrace and held her while she cried, stroking her back.

“She’s so broken,” said Andra into Paul’s shoulder.

“So was I,” said Nika. “I got better. So will she. We just need to be patient.”

Andra looked at her little sister, seeing her in a new light. She was no longer a fragile girl in need of protection. She was a grown woman with a quiet kind of power all her own. And at her side was one hell of a formidable warrior who would give his life to keep her safe.

She hadn’t failed Nika. Even though things had looked hopeless less than a year ago, here Nika stood, proof that among the Sentinels, miracles could happen.

Andra was going to see to it that Tori found her own miracle.

She sniffed and straightened her spine, gearing up for a fight she knew would be more against her own nature than anything. “Then patience is what she’ll have. As much of it as she needs. However long it takes.”

She’d abandoned and buried her sister once. She wasn’t going to do it again.

Logan left Grace’s side, driven by the need to sleep. There was nothing he could do for her, just as there’d been nothing he could do for Torr. Grace had made her choice to give up her life for another. He didn’t want to belittle the selfless gesture by questioning it.

He passed into the main hall, heading toward the Sanguinar wing, fatigue pulling at every heavy step he took. A large group had congregated around the biggest dining table. Joseph sat at the head of the table, speaking quietly. There were at least two dozen Theronai there—likely deciding what to do in the aftermath of last night’s events. Tynan had phoned Logan earlier on the drive home and told him about the humans they’d rescued—about the child Andra’s and Nika’s sister had borne.

Logan hadn’t had much time or energy to digest the information, but he was sure that once the sun set, Tynan would call the Sanguinar together for a meeting of their own.

He was too worn-out to stop and eavesdrop, so he passed the group by, ignoring them. It wasn’t until he could see the lounging area that he came to a stop. Sitting on one of the leather sofas, staring sightlessly at some animated TV show, were three children Logan didn’t recognize. They looked as if they’d been recently scrubbed clean, and half-empty plates of food and glasses of milk sat on the coffee table in front of them. Skinny, listless, and pitiful, the three children drew Logan to them.

He could only imagine the kind of hell those poor little souls had been through.

Logan ignored his fatigue and went over to where they sat. The boy was probably about seven, as was one of the girls. The other one of the girls was older, maybe nine. Each of them clutched a blanket around their skinny shoulders as they stared up at him with huge, haunted eyes.