They never made it to Whites. Mace walked for what must have been hours, with Silas’s words echoing in Mace’s head until he thought he’d go mad from it. A lifetime with Silas sounded far superior to the life Silas claimed Finn had planned. But what of his sisters? Would Silas take them too? Would he protect them against Finn? Mace could never leave them behind.

The air was damp and cold, and the smells of the East End assaulted him. He removed his coat, rolling up his sleeves, ignoring the looks he received from those he encountered. They all knew he belonged to Finn. No matter what they thought of him, they’d never speak against him. Finn provided them with their entertainment and their whores. Those who had attempted to speak ill of his boss had found themselves quickly dispatched without haste, and that was only the men. The things Finn had done to the women who’d displeased him, that was the stuff of nightmares.

He should go and find Finn at the club, but he wasn’t ready yet. He needed to consider his next move. He needed to decide what he could tell Finn. He bypassed the front doors of Rafferty’s and made his way to the alley that housed the back door of Molly’s brothel. He was only three steps in when he noticed it.

The backstreet was empty. Mace pulled his watch from his pocket, though he didn’t know why. The alley was never empty. Not at any hour. Molly’s girls were out here day and night, doing their part to entice Rafferty’s patrons to their rooms. If it wasn’t Molly’s girls, it was Rafferty’s men. Men too deep in their cups and stumbling around, making themselves easy marks for anybody looking to lighten their pockets, or men trying to console themselves over losing their wages, hell-bent on finding their way to Molly’s door to drop more coin with her girls.

But not that night; that night, light only flickered in a few windows of the house. He entered through the kitchens, on alert, half expecting to find Molly tending to one of the girls’ wounds. If the injuries were bad enough, she’d shut down the house for an hour or so, but there was nobody. Nobody in the kitchens, no noise from the parlor. A trickle of unease crawled along his spine as he crept up the staircase, vigilant for any signs of danger.

At the top of the stairs, he heard Molly’s crooning accent, her voice quiet and soothing. It wasn’t the first time Molly’d had to console one of the girls. People like them were disposable, and the world treated them as such. But his curiosity got the better of him. Someone had shut all the doors, but one. His. Molly was singing an Irish lullaby much like the ones his mother once sang to him. Ice water pumped through his veins as he moved closer, knowing with grim certainty what waited for him on the other side.

He blinked at the scene before him. He’d been right; Molly wasn’t alone. Both of his sisters sat on his filthy mattress. He supposed he should be grateful Molly had thrown her quilt over the worst of the stains, but there was no hiding the things that went on in a place like this. The stains, the smells, the disease. It wasn’t the first dirty mattress his sisters had laid on. When they’d first made it to London, any mattress was a luxury. But they had been far too little to remember such things. They had only known Finn’s home, his real home, and the fine things given to them by his good graces.

Theo leaned against the wall, clutching her threadbare doll—the one her mother had given her as a baby—her knees pulled up under her long white nightdress, eyes at half-mast, looking sleepy and confused as she watched Molly warily. But not Asa, she looked terrified. She wore a dress that wasn’t hers. It was far too big for her slight frame, falling off one shoulder, forcing her to keep pushing it back in place. Molly had left his sister’s long, golden hair unpinned. Somebody had painted her face. The deep red lips and the rouge on her cheeks looked obscene for someone her age. Molly was running a brush through Asa’s hair, talking in soft tones, alternating between singing and talking nonsense.

He clutched the door frame to stop his hands from shaking and also to fight his urge to snatch them and run far and fast away from this place. He knew he’d never make it past the front door. Dread sat heavy and barbed inside his chest making it hard to breathe.

“What is the meaning of this?” Mace asked before he could stop himself.

Molly looked at him, her eyes hunted, her gaze flicking over his shoulder before she licked her lips and smiled tightly. “We’re making this one pretty, aren’t we, darlin’?”

Asa didn’t even answer, just stared at him with wide, wounded eyes, her mouth tight, chin wobbling just a bit.

Mace’s breathing sounded harsh to his ears. “Why are they here?”

“Mr. Finn says there are some who wouldna’ mind to meet the young miss, Anastasia.” She too kept her voice calm, almost pleasant, but he could hear the trembling in her tone. He knew this wasn’t her doing. Molly had always been good to him, to all of them. She was as much a pawn as the others.

His insides went cold. “How did they get here?” He kept his voice quiet, attempting to keep his fear in check. He didn’t need to frighten them any more than they already were.

“I brought them,” Finn’s voice boomed from the hallway, sounding jovial to the untrained ear. But Mace knew better. He knew this was the rise before the fall. There was nothing Finn loved more than luring Mace into letting his guard down. It was all a game. “After all, you were rather insistent at our last meeting that you not be kept from each other. I thought for certain you’d want them here with you, no?”

“I-I didn’t mean-” Mace paused, silently cursing the way he stuttered, swallowing hard before he dropped his voice. “You know this isn’t what I wanted.”

Finn’s smile was oily. “I know no such thing. I only want to please you. You’re always so demanding of me, Balthazar.” He gestured towards the hallway. “Let us talk away from the little ones, yes?” Mace closed the door behind him and leaned against it, needing an additional barrier between Finn and his sisters. “Their expenses are becoming a burden; a burden I happily took on because I love you, and I want nothing more than your happiness, but you are trying my patience. If you feel the need to see your sisters, you’ll see them here, or you’ll see them only at my behest. And if they are here, I might as well put them to work. Asa isn’t much younger than you when I first found you.”

“Finn, please…”

Finn tsked. “They don’t belong here. They should be sleeping soundly in their beds, blissfully unaware that places like this exist. Don’t you agree? There’s no place for creatures like us near innocents like them. You will only ruin them.”

Mace gave a stilted nod, that small glimmer of hope Silas had given Mace dimming. “You’re absolutely right. Please, just send them back. Let them be.”

There was a hint of a smirk playing at Finn’s lips; Mace knew it well. It was the look that said things had gone Silas’s way. Mace’s expression must have eased just slightly because Finn’s eyes narrowed, and he arched a brow. “And how was your night?”

The casual question made the hairs at the back of Mace’s neck rise. Finn knew something and was baiting Mace. Once again, Mace did his best to slide that mask in place, a smile playing at his lips. “It was…enlightening.”

Finn’s cheek twitched, and Mace’s heart tripped in his chest. “How so?”

Mace licked his bottom lip. He’d had every intention of lying, but with his sisters so close, he just couldn’t risk it. “He knew. He knew I worked for you. He said I was a pawn. He wanted to strike a deal with me.”

Finn grinned. “That is enlightened. I didn’t foresee that. Oh, he does know how to up the stakes.” Finn’s tone was wistful, almost fond. “What type of deal does he wish to make with you exactly, pet?”

Mace flinched as much from the casual nickname as the finger Finn dragged across Mace’s lower lip.

Mace tried to quell the way his insides shook. “He-He said he could save me. Rescue me. In exchange for being his…companion.”

Finn laughed, smacking a kiss on Mace’s lips hard enough to drag the tender flesh against his teeth. Mace tasted blood. “I knew he’d never be able to say no to that face. So predictable. And you agreed, of course?”

Mace’s eyes slid away. “I-I refused. I’d never want to be away from you,” Mace said, the lie rolling off his tongue with practiced ease.

Finn’s eyes went hard, his mouth tightening imperceptibly. Mace’s fear became a living thing inside him. “W-was that not what you wanted?”

“No, you stupid boy. You are only useful for two things, aren’t you? You should have said nothing or, at the very least, told him you’d consider his offer.” Finn moved away, pacing the hallway.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to displease you,” Mace stuttered, a strange disinterest settling over him. He knew what came next.

Finn was before him again. “Oh, don’t be sorry. My concern is for you. Now, I’m going to have to give you a reason to have abruptly changed your mind.”

“Please don’t hurt them,” Mace whispered.

“Oh, pet. I have no interest in hurting them. As long as you do exactly as I say.” Knuckles trailed along his cheek. “But, you, on the other hand, I’m afraid this is going to hurt you quite badly. Do try to keep your screams down though. We don’t want to frighten the children.”

Mace’s eyes slid closed, letting that part of himself fall away. The part that cared. The part that hurt. He’d survive what came next. That’s what he did. They just kept trying to kill him, and he just kept surviving to spite them. Maybe it was his fae blood. Maybe he was just too stubborn to die. With his eyes shut, he never saw the first blow coming; the blow to his diaphragm stole both his breath and his ability to cry out. The strikes that followed took any hope he had of ever escaping Finn’s grasp.

This time when Mace opened his eyes, Ember sat on the other side of Romero’s grave, her knees drawn up watching him sleep. “Hello, luv.”

“Where do you go when you dream?” she asked, scooting to sit between his knees.

He pulled her closer, just needing to wrap his arms around her. “I’m not dreaming; I’m remembering,” he explained.

“Remembering what?” she asked, a little breathless. He didn’t say anything, just pressed his face to her throat, his eyes closed, chasing away old ghosts by breathing in the scent of her.

“Dark deeds, luv. Nothing to trouble yourself with.”

“Are you okay?” Her words vibrated against his cheek.

“I am now,” he assured her.

After a minute, he felt her relax against him, holding him tighter, her breath and heartbeat syncing with his, creating this bubble of comfort he’d happily live in forever. Heat prickled along his skin as her magic flared; tiny jolts of electricity dancing around them. She shivered as his magic responded in return, cool against her skin.

“Huh,” he whispered, too shocked to say much else. It appeared his magic did work in this realm. At least when Ember was near. She sat back on her knees, looking at her hands before grabbing his.

“Do that again,” she whispered, voice hitching.

“Do what, luv?”

“Use your magic to call mine.” He tilted his head, questioning. “Please?” she asked. “Please just do it for me?”

He nodded, chilled as much by the panic in her voice as his magic. He dropped his shields, calling his power as he used to. It rushed to the surface, colliding with Ember’s, as if separated for far too long. There was no pain, no overwhelming rush of energy trying to chew through them. It moved, building and swirling around them, her energy the same hazy violet as her eyes, his smoke white. She tilted her head back, letting it wash over her, smiling even as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

“Ember, luv. What’s wrong?”

“Shh,” she told him on a small sob, slipping into his lap and wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his neck just as he’d done to her moments ago. He didn’t ask questions. “I thought it was gone. I really did,” she said, her voice muffled against his skin.

“What was gone?”

Her hands clenched in his shirt, her tear-soaked lashes fluttering against his neck. “My magic. I don’t know what’s happening anymore. Is this just a dream? Is none of this real? Why can I feel it here and not there? Why can I only feel it when I sleep? This must be a dream, right? Are you even real? Mace, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Mace’s stomach knotted. She didn’t believe this was real. It was happening all over again. Just like in the beginning. He gripped her upper arms, wincing at how thin they’d become, tugging her back to look at him. She kept her gaze lowered, staring at her hands still clamped around the fabric of his shirt. “Luv, look at me. Please?” She dragged her gaze upwards, expression misery. “This is real. I don’t know where we are or why you can only see me when you sleep, but this isn’t just a dream. This isn’t your imagination. Your magic…my magic is real here.” His thumbs swiped at her tears, cupping her face, trying to force every ounce of his need into his words. “You have to believe me. I don’t think I can endure this if you don’t believe me. Do you? Believe me?”

She hesitated before giving him a stilted nod, her hands sliding over his on her face before her face crumpled into sobs. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Mace’s heart stopped. “Do what, luv? What can’t you do anymore?”

“I’m so tired. I’m so tired, Mace.”

“I know. I know you are.” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. Her exhaustion had hollowed out her cheeks and collarbones. It had painted dark marks under her eyes and a tightness at her mouth. He was doing this to her. Their connection was keeping her from resting, from having any peace. Even with his soul intact, he was still eating her alive.

“I’m not what they think I am. I’m not who they think I am. My magic’s gone in our world. It’s just gone. But when I’m here, I feel it. You feel it, too, right? I need to tell them, but I can’t. I just can’t. When I think about telling the others, I just get so scared.” He nodded, trying to put together the pieces of Ember’s fractured thoughts. “They are killing everybody. They are killing everybody, and they think we can stop it. They believe that I can stop it. I can’t tell them they were wrong. Too many people are dead because of me. Too many people have died for a lie.”

“Ember, who’s dead? What are you talking about?”

He listened, shocked as she brokenly told him stories of hunters with superhuman strength cutting a path through the East Coast packs, somebody turning teens into killers and then killing those same teens and leaving them for the humans to find. By the time she finished, she was collapsed on him, curled into a ball in his arms, talking to his chest more than him.

“I can’t tell them my magic is gone, Mace.”

“When did it go missing?” he asked, already knowing what she’d say.

Her finger’s played with the edge of his t-shirt before finding the scars across his lower abdomen, just above his jeans. She didn’t answer right away. “The night you disappeared, I think.”

There was a lead weight in his stomach. He could not tell her. He could say nothing and keep her with him at least for a bit each night. He could hope that Finn freed him before Ember wasted away. He could choose to be selfish. He ran a hand through her curls. “It’s the bond.”

Her fingers stilled. “What is?”

“Your magic isn’t missing, luv. It’s divided. That day in the old cemetery, you linked our powers so that I could channel your excess magic. It seems this is the ramification. Magic isn’t free. For every action, there’s a reaction. When you and I don’t share the same world, it seems our magic goes dormant.”

She opened her mouth like she was going to argue but deflated, accepting it as the most logical answer to an illogical situation. “Then I have to tell them. Miller and Josephine will have to find a way to bring you back if they want me to fulfill their stupid prophecy. They’ll have to find a way that doesn’t involve killing anybody. I didn’t have to kill anybody to bring Quinn back; maybe we can do that ritual again?”

His breath hitched. This was just her talking, venting. There was no way out of this for him. The more he remembered from his past, the more he realized the only inevitable conclusion to this trip down memory lane was his real death. Finn had Mace, and there was no way Finn would ever let Mace go. Thinking otherwise was meaningless. “You aren’t thinking clearly, Ember. Bringing Quinn back came with a price, the sigil of Osiris on your shoulder. You’ve been marked as the property of a god. Besides, who would you choose as your vessel? Who do you think Josephine and Miller would choose? They’ll sacrifice Quinn again if it means saving their precious prophecy. Are you willing to be responsible for Quinn’s death? Because that’s the only way I come back. If the spell would even work with me here.”

“Of course I don’t want to lose Quinn. I don’t want to lose anybody. There has to be another way. I can’t be without my magic. I can’t leave Kai and Tristin without their magic…I can’t leave the pack vulnerable,” she cupped his face. “I need you.”

Mace smiled, shaking his head. “There is another way.”

The hope in her eyes almost killed him all over again. “How?”

His next words were a knife through his heart. “Sever the connection. Sever our connection.”

She gasped. “What? No.”

“You have to. It’s the only way for you to have your magic back.”

“No,” she said again, crying in earnest this time. “No. What if this connection is the only thing that allows me to see you? What if it’s the only reason you didn’t just disappear into oblivion?”

Mace blinked hard, fighting to keep the smile on his face. “You have to let me go, luv. I’m going to be okay. People have been trying to kill me for over a century, and they haven’t succeeded yet.”

She was shaking her head at his words. “I won’t. I won’t do it.”

“You will. You will because you are not a selfish girl, and you know that the good of the many is greater than our little love story. No matter how epic it seems to us.”

She smashed their mouths together, and he could taste her tears. “You can’t say things like that and then tell me not to fight for us. What if this is the last time I see you?

He pulled back, looking into those glowing violet eyes. “Then we shouldn’t waste the time we have, no?”

He drew her in again, lips capturing hers, savoring the feel of her, the taste of her tears, the scent of her skin. She kissed him between her sobs. “I don’t want to do this,” she whispered against his lips. “Please don’t make me do this.”

“Sometimes we just don’t have a choice.”

“Silas says all magic is a choice.” Ember’s hand flew to her mouth, jerking away from him, a look of horror on her face.

Mace felt the air rush from his lungs like he was in a vacuum, his chest so tight he could barely get the words out. “What did you just say?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but then she was gone.

“Silas,” he whispered to nobody in particular.