Dean's POV
The walk back to the cottage was silent. Not the comfortable kind of silence, but the heavy, suffocating kind that came when both of us knew exactly what was at stake and neither wanted to say it out loud.
Kane walked beside me, his posture tense, his mind clearly running a thousand miles an hour. I wasn't any better. The witches had left us with a choice that wasn't really a choice at all—either Kane overwhelmed the darkness inside Elena, or he ended up like Ace. Dead. And if he succeeded, I had to absorb it, knowing it would end me.
A fucking death sentence, wrapped up in some poetic witchcraft bullshit.
But what other choice did we have?
Elena was running out of time.
And the longer she stayed like this, the more we risked her being completely consumed by whatever dark voodoo had taken root inside her.
