Garrick had never felt this kind of fury in his life. Not during battle, not even when friends had fallen right beside him. But now? Now, his blood was fire, and it all roared for her. The second he heard she was gone—taken—his world tilted. No one had answers. No one knew where she'd been taken. Only that Varrish had something to do with it.

Fucking Varrish.

His fists had bled from how hard he’d clenched them, his voice hoarse from screaming at Xaden for information, his mind a storm of every worst-case scenario possible. Because she was strong—gods, stronger than most of them—and yet she was gone. How the hell could they take her?

Tracking her had been hell. But when they finally narrowed it down to an old brig outpost, his pulse hammered like war drums in his ears. Every step he took inside was careful, calculated, silent. But his soul screamed.

When he saw Varrish in that room, alone with her unconscious, bloody form tied to a chair, something inside him snapped.

There was no hesitation. Garrick struck from behind, blade sliding deep into flesh, twisting. He slit the bastard’s throat and then stabbed him again. And again. And again. Until the only sound was the wet thud of vengeance and his own ragged breathing.

Then he looked up—and the world stopped.

She was slumped forward, covered in blood, bruises along her jaw and arms, her chest barely moving. So still.

"Fuck," he breathed, voice shaking as he rushed to her. "No, no, no—"

His hands trembled as he undid the cuffs. Every second dragged like an eternity. When she stirred—barely—and her cracked lips parted to whisper, “Garrick?” something inside him shattered.

“I’m here. I’ve got you.” His voice cracked. "You're going to be okay, I swear—"

He cradled her gently against him, careful not to hurt her more, his heart thundering so hard it ached. Her blood soaked into his shirt and he didn’t care. His jaw clenched as his eyes burned. He’d kill them all for what they did. And he would burn kingdoms to keep her safe.

As he turned to carry her out, a woman stepped forward to strike—but a blade sliced through her first. Xaden.

“We need to get her out of here,” Garrick said, voice low and deadly.

But what he didn’t say was that his heart was already in her hands. And if she died… so would the part of him that still believed in peace.