I nodded, still not knowing what to say.
The next person to walk in plunged my emotional state to its darkest depths: Eliot. The traitor who’d deceived me about my adoption and ensured I left the safety of Cyclos, only to be abducted by Caden and the rest of the people about to walk in next.
What the damn hell am I doing here?
Eliot glanced my way, his eyes widening with a mix of shock and shame. He froze for a moment before retreating to the farthest corner of the room. The remorse was so evident on his face I almost felt a pang of sympathy. Almost.
His arrival was followed by a dozen more people, some I recognized as those I’d supposedly killed at Coastal, some I didn’t, each taking their seat at the table with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
Great.
Finally, Caden entered, and with a flick of his fingers, the door swung shut behind him, sealing with a soft thrum of magic and an air of quiet authority.
He didn’t just walk into a room—he claimed it. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, as if the very air adjusted to accommodate him. Broad shoulders squared, his black military attire only emphasizing the sharp lines of his frame, the ease with which he carried power. His presence was suffocating in its intensity, the kind that demanded respect without a single word needing to be spoken. A leader through and through—cold, untouchable, the kind of man people obeyed without question.
He motioned for me to take a seat at the table, his expression unreadable, completely indifferent to the unease curling in my gut. I was surrounded by the very people responsible for my worst nightmares, and he knew it—and didn’t care.
I took a seat next to Sean, keeping my features neutral. I’d be damned if I let any of these assholes see how much their presence twisted everything inside me.
Caden’s gaze swept across the room, assessing, commanding, before he finally spoke. “I know you’re all eager to hear how and why Emma Thompson has joined our ranks. However,” he said, pausing long enough to hold the room, “there’s a more pressing update I need to share.”
He began a slow, deliberate walk around the table. “As you know, we had a few operatives working undercover with the Radicals these last few months. Due to unexpected circumstances, I decided to pull some of them out. One has just returned from a nearby camp and will be briefing us on their findings.”
A ripple of curiosity and concern spread through the room. I fidgeted in my seat, my thoughts still consumed by relentless worry about what the hell I was doing in there—sitting among enemies, with the object of my nightmares at the helm of it all, unreadable as ever.
The heavy iron-bound door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the room. My gaze was drawn instinctively, and when familiar eyes locked onto mine, it felt as though time had frozen. All my anxieties about being out of place here vanished in an instant, replaced by yet another a gut-wrenching wave of betrayal that hit me like a punch.
She was here. She was one of them.
Enya.
TWENTY-FOUR
CADEN
I must have been out of my fucking mind to agree to this—bringingherinto my home.
Killian. Geoffrey. The memory of her slitting and crushing their throats like it was nothing, burned into my mind.
Even if they had threatened to force out her translation—had planned to break her in that sterile, godsforsaken room at Coastal—they had been under strict orders not to touch her, unless necessary.
Which they hadn’t.
She still killed them. Cold. Efficient. Unapologetic.
And Iloathedher for it.
But my duty as First Offensive was clear: protect the Collective above all else. Keep the power balanced. Make the hard calls. A maga with untraceable translation would be a huge liability in a world already cracking at the seams. Ignoring it would have been reckless. Stupid.
I was neither.
Sitting in the command center, my team couldn’t stop watching her—every glance laced with suspicion, with quiet resentment. She was the outsider. The one whose choices had cost us two of our own.
Plus, a lot of people here blamed her for James too—for the interrogations, the executions, the men he’d taken out to keep her safe. We all knew what he’d done. Whethershedid was still up for debate.
So yeah, nobody trusted her.
And neither did I.
