“How long do we have?”
“They have transport, so twenty minutes. Maybe thirty if we’re lucky.”
She strips off my coat, hands it back. “Then we should move.”
“Keep it.”
“But I’ve had it all night. You must be frozen—”
“I’ll manage.” When she hesitates, I add quietly, “Please.”
For a second, she just looks at me. Those deep brown eyes studying my face like she’s trying to understand something I haven’t said.
Then she pulls the coat back on and follows me as I kick dirt over the fire.
We work fast. Scatter the campsite. Erase obvious signs of occupation. It won’t fool a professional tracker, but it might buy us minutes.
Every second counts now.
Her scent fills the small space as we work; warmer now, mixing with smoke and pine. I catch myself breathing deeper than necessary and force discipline back into place.
“Stay close,” I tell her as we prepare to move out into the snow. “And quiet.”
She nods. Face pale but determined.
And despite everything—the danger, the mission, the absolute stupidity of getting emotionally compromised—I know with complete certainty that I’ll burn anyone who tries to take her.
Professional obligation, my ass.
This is personal.
That should terrify me.
It doesn’t.
And that’s a problem I’ll deal with later.
Assuming we survive long enough for later to matter.
Chapter 8
Ember
The cold bites through my borrowed jacket as I stumble forward through the packed snow. Luke’s moving briskly, his silhouette dark in the early morning light. I’m pretty sure we’ve left no sign that we’ve been here. No ash. No footprints. Nothing to give us away.
I reach inward out of habit, searching for the heat that’s always been there, the fire waiting beneath my ribs.
Silence.
The absence punches through me again, fresh as the first time. I curl my fingers into fists, fighting the vertigo that comes with feeling hollow. My magic isn’t gone. It can’t be. But right now, there’s nothing but empty space where power should live.
“All good?” Luke’s voice cuts through the mist.
I nod, brushing pine needles from my pants. Despite the sleep, the weight of exhaustion settles into my bones, the kind that comes from running on adrenaline for far too long.
“You sure?” he presses, clearly not convinced.
“I… um…” I gnaw on my lip. “I need to um… pee.”
