Chapter One hundred forty

Alina's Wrath: The Night the War Ended

Marcus stormed into the blood-soaked room, his boots squelching against the blood-stained floor. His sharp eyes darted over the lifeless bodies, his nose wrinkling at the metallic scent of fresh death.

"What the hell happened here?" he demanded, voice taut with shock. "Are they all dead?"

Alina exhaled, shoving a stray strand of hair out of her face. Blood speckled her cheek, and her clothes were ruined. "Not all," she muttered, her voice rough but steady. "Evan's still breathing. Couldn't bring myself to kill him. Or his father. Not yet, anyway." She lifted her bound hands, irritation flashing in her eyes. "But first, get these damn chains off me."

Marcus crouched beside her, his fingers trailing over the intricate metal links. His jaw tightened. "Silver-infused iron. They weren't taking any chances with you."