“I’m not pack,” I say. “I’m not even shifter.”
“Pack isn’t about species.” Her smile is fierce. Protective. “It’s about who shows up when things get hard. And you’ve been showing up, Mara. For Elena. For Caleb. For all of us. That makes you pack.”
Something in my chest loosens.
“You mean like family?”
“Yes.” She smiles. “But better.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, realizing she’s offering me something I’ve never really had.
She stands. Smooths her pants. “Eat your soup. Get some rest. And maybe—” She pauses at the door. “Maybe give him a chance to explain. Dragon kings aren’t known for doing what’s expected. But they are known for being loyal to what they claim as theirs.”
She leaves.
The door clicks shut.
I’m alone with the cooling soup and the truth I can’t speak and the feelings I can’t admit.
But something feels different.
Lighter.
Like maybe I’m not as alone as I thought.
I press my fingertips against my temples.
Try to breathe through the ache.
Try to convince myself that I don’t care for him.
That I don’t want him.
That I’m perfectly fine the way things are.
But I’ve never been good at lying.
Especially not to myself.
Chapter 26
Kael
The seats are leather. I know this because I run my hand over the armrest and the texture is unmistakable—animal hide, tanned and treated until it’s soft as silk. But the shape is wrong. Too precise. Too uniform. Like someone poured the material into molds instead of cutting and stitching by hand.
Everything in this aircraft is like that. Smooth where it should be rough. Silent where it should creak. The engines hum at a frequency that makes my teeth ache, but there’s no wind screaming past. No rush of air against scales. Just this contained, climate-controlled space hurtling through sky that should be mine.
I’m sitting near the rear. Away from the others. Vex is further back—strapped down, sedated, his face slack. Aurora’s medics administered something after the interrogations in Romania went nowhere. Some Syndicate failsafe scrambled his mind when capture seemed inevitable.
He’ll be transported to Aurora headquarters. Better facilities. Better chance of breaking through whatever was done to him.
I should want answers. Should want to extract every scrap of information about the Syndicate’s plans.
Instead, I’m staring at my hands.
They look the same. Calloused. Scarred in places I don’t remember earning. But when I close my eyes, I see them wearing rings. Heavy gold bands on three fingers. Ceremonial. Binding.
Symbols of a crown I never asked for.
