They were far more skilled than she was. It took no time for Orange to produce a knife, and with a move any expert would be proud of, she plunged it into Mischa’s side, sliding it between her ribs. A gasping yelp escaped from my twin’s mouth, and she collapsed immediately. I could hear her ragged breathing and knew they’d punctured her lung.

My initial fly kick smashed Lemon in the back of the head, slamming her face first into the stone. She bounced back up without pause and spun to engage me. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek, scraped from where she’d hit the wall. I growled, my hands shifting into claws as I gouged at her. I had to get to Mischa and Lemon was in my way.

Over her shoulder I noticed Orange reaching down to hoist my twin into her arms. Furious, I clocked Lemon, my elbow smashing her jaw. But again I couldn’t reach Mischa in time. Orange sent her flying toward the wall blocking the path.

Blood splattered as she hit the rock, and then I sensed the magic. A burst of power shot out through us, ancient, strong – like Louis’ magic always felt.

Lemon tried to duck by me. I swung around and punched her. I got a good hit in because she was distracted – trying to reach her sister. Perfect opportunity. I punched her again, dodging her feeble attempts to defend herself, and finally my elbow put her down. This time she stayed there. Kicking her once in the gut, I leapt across her body and moved to help Mischa.

The ground rumbled and I skidded over the rocks to reach my twin, yanking her into my arms, pulling her away from the falling debris. Whatever the bitch twins had done was bringing down the wall. With a bang it disintegrated, rocks rolling out across the floor, leaving behind an entrance into what looked like another small stone area.

The twins both stood above where I was cradling Mischa and stared down at me.

“Follow or your sister will die.” Orange looked excited, and that scared me more than her anger.

I could hear Mischa’s wheezing, her small whimpers sending panicky trills down my spine. I forced my panic into anger, sneering as growls fell from my mouth. “Marked can’t die.”

The twins glanced at each other before turning back to me and, synchronized, both laughed, the dead, empty laughter of crazy people. “Of course the marked can die, and the countdown is on for Mischa. You don’t want to delay.”

Truth. I knew those bitches held the key to our mortality.

Without removing my eyes from them, I slowly stood, my sister’s slender form cradled in my arms. “Hurry the fuck up, and you better hope and pray that Mischa is okay.”