“Dawn,” he replies. “Eighteen hours to prep.”
I nod once. “I’ll be ready.”
My mother moves around the table, coming closer.
“You’re not thinking clearly. You’re emotional, exhausted—”
I turn to face her directly. “I’m thinking more clearly than I ever have.” The words don’t waver as they leave my mouth. “Other hybrids are in danger. Our entire species is at risk. I’m not hiding while those Syndicate bastards get away with murder.”
“You could be killed—” Real fear flashes across her face, almost breaking my resolve.
“Then I’ll die doing something that matters.”
The finality in my tone stops her cold. For a heartbeat, I think of Luke, of how he would look at me if he were here. Would he understand this choice? Or would his eyes hold the same fear as my mother’s? Like a little girl who needs to be told what to do? The question burns in my chest, another coal on the fire of my determination.
I lift my chin, not backing down.
Viktor clears his throat. “Vanya, I understand your concern. But I can’t—and won’t—order Ember to stand down.” He pauses, his gaze steady on me. “She’s proven her capability. She’s earned her place on this team.”
My mother sinks into her seat, suddenly deflated. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for her.
The meeting adjourns, everyone filing out with purpose, already discussing gear loadouts and logistics. I move to follow, but my mother’s hand catches my arm, fingers like ice against my overheated skin.
“This is about him,” she hisses once the others are gone. “About Kenan.”
I don’t deny it, but there’s more to it. “This is about me. About proving I’m more than your sheltered daughter.”
“You don’t have to prove anything—” Her voice breaks, revealing a vulnerability I’ve rarely heard.
“Yes, I do. To you. To myself. To everyone who thinks I’m too young or too weak or toohybridto matter.” The accusation burns its way out of me, sparks literally dancing in my breath.
“You’ll always matter, darling.” My mother’s voice breaks. “Just listen to me in this. Do the smart thing.”
“The smart thing?” I scoff. I shake my head in disbelief at her sheer nerve. “You went to him, didn’t you? Threatened him. Made him think he wasn’t good enough for me.”
She doesn’t respond, and that’s answer enough. My heart clenches as I imagine Luke facing my mother’s icy fury, believing her lies that he’d only bring me pain, that he wasn’t worthy. The man who risked his life for me countless times and never flinched, who made me feel whole for the first time in my life. How could he believe he wasn’t enough?
“I protected you—” she starts.
“Youcontrolledme,” I say, my voice rising. The air shimmers between us like desert heat. “Manipulated him. Decided what I’m allowed to feel.” Something cracks inside me, releasing words I’ve been holding back. “I love him, Mom. And you took that from me.”
She freezes, as if I’ve struck her. “You don’t know what you’re saying—”
“I knowexactlywhat I’m saying.” My chest heaves with each breath, smoke curling from my nostrils. “I love him. But that means nothing now. So, I’m going on this mission whether you approve or not.”
“You’re going to regret this, Ember,” she makes a last-ditch attempt. “You’re playing with fire.”
I snort out a laugh. “That really doesn’t frighten me, Mom. I happen toloveplaying with fire.” With that, I turn on my heel. She stands there motionless as I walk past her and out the door.
There’s literally a cloud of rage hovering over my head as I storm away from the war room toward the armory. When I get there, I go through equipment with focused intensity, methodically checking each piece. Tactical vest, weapons, comm gear. The routine may be new to me, but it grounds me, each item adding to a sense of purpose that’s been missing for too long.
As I reach for a backpack, I pause for a moment, remembering how, just days ago, I’d crammed a pack with books and snacks. Like a kid heading out on a holiday camp. No wonder Luke had been so exasperated. So much has changed since then. Now, I feel powerful in a way I’ve never felt.
Not because of magic. Because of choice.
Luke’s absence throbs like a phantom limb. I can almost see him leaning against the lockers, arms crossed, that half-smile playing on his lips as he watches me check my gear. I can almost hear his voice, low, steady, telling me to be careful without actually saying the words. The memory of his kiss, of his hands cupping my face, his hard body pressed against mine… it burns brighter than any fire I’ve ever conjured.
But memories won’t keep me warm in the coming fight.
