Hargen won’t keep silent forever. His loyalty to Vanya runs too deep.
We don’t have much time to figure this thing out.
Better make it count.
Chapter 28
Ember
I stare at the ceiling of my assigned quarters, long past the stage of counting sheep. The room is small but comfortable, a proper bed instead of a cave floor, a private bathroom with actual hot water, and even a small sitting area with two chairs. The sheets beneath me are crisp and clean, almost too smooth against my skin after roughing it in the mountains.
My body should be grateful. I’ve showered away the grime of the ordeal, scrubbing until my skin turned pink under the steaming water. I’ve eaten a real meal that didn’t come from a foil packet, savoring flavors that weren’t bland and processed. The Aurora medical team cleared me, their gloved hands clinical and impersonal as they documented every bruise, every graze, every scrape left after clambering over rocks.
The doctor said I needed rest.
But sleep refuses to come.
Every time I close my eyes, I’m back there. The mountains, with their brutal beauty and hidden dangers, the pine and snow, the bite of cold air in my lungs. The Syndicate facility, with its sterile corridors and the stench of fear, antiseptic masking something rotten beneath. Luke’s hands on my skin, gentle despite their strength, calloused fingertips leaving trails of heat wherever they touched.
Then, coming back to face the endless questions. My mother’s smothering suspicions. My father appearing in the doorway at the worst possible moment. The awkward silence. The promise to keep quiet about what he saw.
God, what a mess.
I throw off the blanket and pace the length of the room. Heat rises in my palms with each step, tiny embers glowing beneath the surface, my power responding to my agitation.
Everything feels fragile. Like we’re balancing on a knife-edge and the slightest wrong move will send it all crashing down.
A knock at my door interrupts my spiraling thoughts. The sharp, precise sound cuts through the hum of the air circulation system. I pause, wondering if it’s Luke. Or worse, my mother, ready for another round of “I know what’s best for you.”
I open the door to find neither.
Iris Asguard stands in the hallway, her copper-gold eyes sharp with concern. The scent of wildflowers and something earthy—herbs, maybe—clings to her clothes. Beside her is Kieran, her twin brother. The resemblance is uncanny and disorienting; same coloring, same eyes, though Kieran’s seem older somehow, shadowed by experiences I can only imagine.
“How’re you doing?” Iris says. “We wanted to check on you.”
I step aside, inviting them in, grateful for the distraction.
“I’m fine. Just… restless.” The word feels inadequate for the storm building inside me.
They settle into my small sitting area, Iris perching on the edge of one chair while Kieran takes the other. The cushions release a soft sigh under their weight. He watches me with an intensity that’s a little unnerving.
“How bad was it?” Iris asks softly, her question gentle, probing, but giving me space to share only what I’m comfortable with.
I take a breath, tasting the metallic tang of fear that rises in my throat whenever I think about the facility.
“The crash was the worst of it, but I’ll admit I was terrified when they got hold of us.”
“The Syndicate?”
I nod. “When they found out who I was…” I hesitate, suppressing a shudder, then go on, “They had plans for me. Bad ones.”
The memory of restraints biting into my wrists flashes hot and sharp. The burning pain when they tasered me…
I stop that train of thought in its tracks. That’s behind me now.
“Bastards,” Iris spits. “Don’t deserve to call themselves dragons.”
“What did you learn while you were there?” Kieran asks, his voice carefully neutral. “Viktor told me you gathered intel. Wants us to meet to go over it soon, but I thought I’d get a head start. Compare notes.”
