Ember stands there gasping. Shocked. Looking at her own hands like they belong to someone else.
The chamber goes silent.
Three heartbeats where no one moves. Where everyone processes what just happened.
Then the commander’s eyes sharpen.
I see it happen. See the moment his assessment changes. See recognition dawn. Not just surprise butinterest. The kind of interest that makes my stomach drop.
He steps closer to Ember. Studying her with the focus of someone who has just found something valuable they didn’t expect.
“Well.” His voice carries new weight. “That changes things.”
To his squad: “Suppression-cuffs. Now. We have a live witch.”
No!
The word screams through my head, but doesn’t make it to my mouth. Because I’m already moving again, fighting through the soldiers between us, trying to reach her before they—
But I see it happen.
See the shift in their focus. See how every operative’s attention locks on her instead of me. See the greed in the commander’s expression as he realizes what she is.
They wanted me for interrogation. Standard procedure for captured operatives.
But theyneedher.
For research. For testing. For whatever the fuck Syndicate does with supernatural assets they can’t explain.
I made this worse.
If I’d stayed down—if I’d let them take us without a fight—they might never have known. Might have processed her as a routine capture.
But I forced her hand. Made her panic. Made her reach for power she couldn’t control.
And now they know.
What have I done?
I try to fight my way toward her. Get two steps before multiple soldiers tackle me.
I go down hard. Three, maybe four bodies pinning me to the ground. Weight crushing my wounded shoulder, fresh blood hot against my chest.
Energy restraints snap around my wrists. That distinctive hum of suppression tech; dragon-forged alloy wrapped in dampening fields. It kills what little strength I have left.
I keep fighting anyway.
Twisting. Snarling. Blood on my teeth from a fist I took to my cheek that tore through flesh. Trying to throw them off through pure fury because strategy stopped working the moment they touched her.
Across the cave, an operative clamps silver-infused cuffs around Ember’s wrists.
The dull blue light ignites immediately. I watch it happen, see the faint shimmer of power around her hands die. See her face go pale as the dampening field cuts her off from whatever magic she just tapped into.
Magic that had been suppressed completely until moments ago.
She cries out. Not loud. Just a small sound of loss that guts me more than the bullet in my shoulder.
The commander’s voice, satisfied: “Excellent. Command will be very interested in this one.”
