He turned off the television.
Hannah's life was destroyed.Because of him.Because he'd authorized the rescue mission and someone on his team had talked to the wrong person and now she was living in a motel room, hiding from people who used to be her friends, wondering if every knock on the door was going to be the one that came with torches and pitchforks.
And in three days, Protogenus was going to try to strip every variant on the planet of their powers.
He needed her.
But he wouldn't force her.
Gray stood alone in his office as the city lights glittered below and lightning crackled faintly around his clenched fists, the weight of impossible choices pressing down on him.Three days until the end of the world as they knew it.Three days to prepare for a battle that would determine whether variants had a future at all.
And somewhere out there, his fated mate was sleeping in a cheap motel, surrounded by people who hated her for what she was, and he was going to let her stay there because asking for help was too much like forcing her to give it.
The lightning danced across his knuckles, hungry and wild, and Gray closed his eyes against the fury that demanded he stop pretending, stop playing the diplomat, stop being anything other than what the Aethor Institute had made him.
A Pollux variant.
Maybe Larsen was right.Maybe that's all he'd ever been.
But not yet.Not tonight.Tonight, he would hold on to what was left of his control, and tomorrow he would do it again, and the day after that, until the three days were up and it didn't matter anymore.
Or until he finally broke.
Chapter Two
Hannah
The motel room smelled like industrial cleaner and old cigarettes, the kind of smell that seeped into the carpet decades ago and never left.
Hannah Charge sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone with numb fingers.The mattress sagged beneath her, springs protesting every small shift of her weight.Outside, a neon sign buzzed and flickered, casting red light through the gap in the curtains every few seconds.The ice machine down the hall had been broken since she arrived four days ago.Nobody seemed interested in fixing it.
Her phone vibrated with another notification.Then another.Then three more in rapid succession.
She should stop looking.She knew she should stop looking.But her thumb kept moving, kept scrolling, kept pulling up messages that landed like punches to the gut.
Email from First National Bank, where she'd worked for five years:Due to recent revelations regarding your status, we are terminating your employment effective immediately.Please do not return to the premises.Your personal belongings will be mailed to your last known address.
