Chapter Four

Wind crushed me backward. Too soon, I began to fall. Panic clawed up my throat and came out as a breathless scream. I hadn't jumped far enough, hadn't accounted for the wind trying to rip me from the sky.

Time slowed as I fell, and all I could think about was my wolves. I didn't want to die, not like this. We still had a war to win.

The back of my coat tightened around my neck. A second later, I jerked to a stop.

I stalled midair, caught by something above. Then I slammed into a solid wall, the side of my face first. Pain sliced across my cheek. Didn't matter. This was better than falling to my death. Relief trickled through my veins, but I put a stopper on it. I wasn't on solid ground yet.

"Aika!" a familiar voice shouted. Grady. He'd caught me, but from his tense tone, it might not be for long. "Use the wall to climb."

With my snow-slicked boots, I planted my feet against the wall and hoped for some traction. They slid off uselessly until I scrabbled my hands over the wood and found a handhold to lift me up slightly. Then I wedged my boot into a groove and pushed myself up farther.

Grady grunted and groaned, hauling me up the side of the building. Eventually, I touched my fingertips to the flat surface of another roof. He pulled me up the rest of the way until finally, finally, I stood on something solid. My coiled-tight muscles wanted to give way and collapse, but Grady was already pulling me across the rooftop. Not toward another one, I prayed. No way I could do this again.

He stopped and lifted my hands to a low, cold pile of stones.

"A chimney," he yelled above the wind. "Wait five seconds and then jump down after me."

"What?"

“I’ll catch you.” Then, like before, he'd already vanished. For fuck’s sake.

One.

I waved my hands over the top of it but sensed no heat. Unless this place was abandoned, anyone who left their chimney unlit welcomed death.

Two.

It leaned precariously, an obvious death trap. I posted my hands on the top of it, gauging the width and fearing the depth.

Three.

This didn't feel wide enough for Grady. Not even a little, unless he'd shifted before he'd jumped.

Four.

I fucking hated not knowing what to expect while placing my life in the hands of someone like Grady, someone who could burn my soul to cinders with his kiss and then blow them from his hand with the next rude comment.

Five.

And yet I had to get down somehow. I'd taken a leap of faith before; I could do it again. I’d risked the unknown and had flown across it. If I could do that, I could do anything.

I sat on one edge and swiveled my feet down into nothingness. Did I trust Grady to catch me? I did, wholly and truly. He didn't have to need me to not want me dead.

With a single, long inhale, all that I allowed myself, I scooted forward, lifted my arms above my head, and dropped. I hit bottom much too soon, or what I thought was bottom. The stones underneath me slanted downward, so I followed. They scraped against my coat, pulling and snagging and tearing. Snow and soot hailed down on top of my head. Then, a strong arm caught me. Two of them, one hooked under my knees and the other cradling my shoulders and head.

He dragged me out, his feet snapping old firewood and crumbled stone, and then settled me on unsteady legs. I tilted forward into him, too grateful to care what he might do.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and caught me. Again.

"I flew," I whispered into his chest. At any other time I might've been embarrassed at the wonderment in my voice, or why I'd said that in the first place, but the truth still rushed through my veins like I was flying even now.

“I knew you could,” he said, with the first hint of gentleness in his voice I’d heard in…a long time. His warm breath sighed over the top of my head, and I realized how close we were standing.

The air came alive in the space between us, charged with memories of how his body had felt against mine in the loft, how I’d wanted to open myself to him to feel even more. I reached out to touch him, but he dodged out of the way and cleared his throat.

“Time to go.”

His clipped growl set my teeth on edge. “What did I do to y—” The rest of what I was going to say sucked backward. “The barn. Were there animals?”

“Empty.” Without another word, he took my hand and led me into the freezing hellscape outside.

Smoke choked the air, but the wind drowned out the noise from the fire next door. It blew northeast, right toward the rest of town. No alarms filled the air, and I wondered if the people might let the old barn burn to a crisp. By then, though, it might be too late. I might've just doomed Margin to nothing but ash too. Like Old Man’s Den was and Margin’s Row.

We headed left, our pace as brisk as it could be. My legs kept sinking into drifts of snow, and my face went numb within seconds. We walked for what felt like hours, to the point where I couldn’t feel anything, but there were no tree branches ripping at my hair and face. We must’ve still been in Margin…or somewhere where no trees grew.

Then Grady stopped, his hand slipping from my elbow.

"Grady," I shouted. "What is it?"

Of course he couldn’t hear me. I couldn't hear myself.

I sensed him step away, his absence a cold, sharp thing out here in the middle of a forest. I shot out the end of my bow, searching the space around me. Had something happened to him?

"Answer me, damn it," I snarled.

He gripped my elbow again, much tighter, and raced me in a different direction—southwest, I thought—so fast I couldn't keep my balance. I slipped and slid behind him as he hauled me up a short set of stairs. At the top, he stormed through a door. A controlled fire's heat blasted from a nearby fireplace and brought a spicy stew smell with it.

 I wrenched myself away from him. "What was that about? Tell me what you see."

And then I saw for myself. Vision slid into place, and I'd recognize Sasha's wriggly viewpoint anywhere. Her gaze bounced up at Archer who stood in the middle of the room with neat aisles of chairs on either side. He wore the most beautiful, relieved smile. My heart clenched with knowing they were all right. Sasha stared at Grady and me, two columns of white frost, while she tucked herself into a tight ball behind Archer’s legs.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, and then moved to the side.

Behind him, on a raised set of stairs, another figure sat in a chair, legs splayed out, head tilted. Huge and beautifully scarred, if such a thing were possible. A multi-faceted jewel.

"It’s about time," he said, his voice as deep as midnight.

Grady leaned into me. His breath hitched several times, and then he threw himself toward a stranger I felt like I already knew.

Thomas.