Sel steps forward again, nodding. After a moment, Nick nods back. He sees us. Good. We can’t go to him without exposing ourselves; right now, no one else knows we’re here. We’re his escape, his rescue.

Sel and Nick’s heads turn in unison, both checking for the tactical opening. The Merlins are still fighting, Isaac too lost to hold back and Erebus calling on every skill he has to fight him off. The opening is here, now. Sel and Nick turn back to each other, eyes meeting again.

Then, some unspoken, silent understanding passes from charge to Kingsmage, and Sel sucks in a breath. “No…”

Nick takes one step back. Then another. And then I’m saying it, too. “No.”

He shakes his head, and the meaning is clear.

He’s leaving.

Without us.

He’s leaving… us.

Two more steps, and then he’s gone through the woods on the other side of the cabin, armor blinking out as he moves, until he’s lost between the trees.

A loud crack reaches us from the end of the driveway. Isaac lies still on the ground, too far away for us to know if he’s alive or dead. Erebus stands triumphant.

Sel curses. Then hoists me up on his back again and we’re moving. Fast. The forest is a blur around me, wind in my face and open mouth. I tuck my head down, gritting my teeth against the sob in my chest that has grown into something primal.

Sel comes to a stop deep into the woods, where shadows are stripes against his cheek and sunlight is a band of light against the black of his hair.

“Nick…,” I gasp into his shoulder.

“I know.”

“Sel, he left us….”

“I… know. I—” He inhales. His whole body is trembling beneath me. Between my arms, against my chest. He sucks in a breath, willing his body still. Another. Then: “Nicholas made his choice, Bree.”

“But, it isn’t supposed to be this way….” My voice is muffled through tears that soak his shirt, nasally and wet. “He was supposed… to come… with us,” I choke out, fisting my hand to my mouth. “Nick killed Max. Oh God…”

“Zhao was going to kill him,” Sel whispers, and I don’t know if he’s reassuring himself or me. “Zhao did kill his father.”

“But that wasn’t—” I grip his arms in clawed hands. “That wasn’t self-defense—”

“No.” Sel turns his head, catching my eye over his shoulder. “That was revenge.”

His brows are furrowed with every emotion I feel colliding within me, too: Sadness. Confusion. Horror.

“That was murderous intent,” he whispers in a hoarse voice. Nick’s eyes burn in my memory, their blue turned hot and ruthless. “He was in bloodlust. I should know.”

“He—he was in shock. I don’t… I think… we can get him back—”