I stared at him for a beat without blinking. Julianleft? Without a word? While I was in a coma? After we forged the True Bond? Yeah right, he wasn’t selling me on that for a second.
“And where was he during the battle? I don’t remember seeing him?” My impatience started to chew through my remaining shred of control like a caffeinated hamster on a cardboard box.
Stephen and James shared a glance.
Oh, what now?
“Don’t tell me he portaled out to get the United Chiefs again?” I said, half-joking—I highly doubted he’d pulled that stunt twice.
“Actually, that’s precisely what happened. The Chiefs portaled into Cyclos right after you blew up the Scola, grabbed the remaining Radicals, and left Julian to answer to our Council.” James’s tone was dry and detached. No anger. No edge. Just cold fact—nothing like the last time Julian had pulled the same crap and sent James into a spiral.
I gawked for a second, too shocked to speak. There was no more doubt about it. Julian was a borderline coward—and after everything we’d been through, I had zero interest in forgiving him,a second time.
"So where are the Radicals now?" I asked, disregarding the shiver running down my spine as more memories of our battle resurfaced.
“Most of them are dead,” James said flatly, as if even mentioning them was beneath him. “The United Chiefs took the survivors to an undisclosed location—probably interrogating them as we speak. But a few managed to escape, and…” He paused, jaw flexing. “We fear they’ve recovered the Amplifier again.”
My chest tightened at his words, and dread curled in my stomach.
"We don’t know much more,” Stephen added. “The attack was unexpected, and their reasons are unclear. Some believe it was retaliation for the casualties at Coastal—thoseyouwere responsible for." His words hit hard, but he didn’t look away. "Others think it was meant to frighten Cyclos into revoking the consensus."
My pulse quickened, but I forced my expression to remain neutral. "What doyouthink?"
Stephen exhaled loudly. "I think their goal didn’t matter in the end, because they didn’t achieve it. Largely thanks to you, and James." He held my attention with more than simple respect. Awe, maybe?
My focus shifted to James, already bracing for answers I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear. "Any losses on our side?"
For a moment, he simply pressed his lips into a grim line. "We lost seven children," he began, and I couldn’t help but notice how sorrowful he sounded. "Six were killed by Radicals in the Epicenter. One…" He swallowed hard. “One was visibly killed by implosion. We can only assume he didn’t realize an Amplifier was active and tried to translate. They found him in a closet, in one of the classrooms.”
Jack. The name slammed into me like a physical force, and bile clawed its way up my throat. I bit it back, the image of his small, innocent face haunting the edges of my mind, and I blinked hard, determined not to let the tears fall.
I had promised I’d come back for him.
And I hadn’t.
His death was on me.
But before I could let the guilt fully sink its teeth in, James pressed on. "We also lost a Council member. Anaïs Dubois. She was our liaison with Alliance." He paused, then cracked his neck. "Her death has put our connection to them on shaky ground—at best."
Blood rushed so loudly in my ears, I struggled to hear him. "So…we’ve lost lives and a lifeline," I whispered, while trying to ignore the grief burning in my throat, and how every word felt like it was breaking on the way out.
"Yeah," James replied quietly, so much so it almost sounded as if all was stripped of hope.
More questions swirled in my mind, tangled and disjointed, but exhaustion was making it impossible to focus. I tried to stifle it, but the yawn came anyway, and instantly betrayed how utterly drained I was.
"I suggest we let you rest and reconvene in a few hours," Stephen said. His voice was still calm and measured, like he was afraid any sudden movement might shatter me. "There’s a lot to discuss."
Understatement of the cycle.
Stephen’s chair scraped back, and I watched everyone move toward the door, tracking their steps while my body stayed limp, too heavy and drained to protest. I needed answers—desperately—but not more than I needed sleep.
"Don't worry, I won't be far," James whispered, as his lips brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. The warmth of his breath lingered, and my cheeks flushed. Three weeks in a coma clearly hadn’t dulled my feelings for him in the slightest.
He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead—so gentle it sent a tremor through my whole body, and my heart lurched at the contact. As the others filed out, James lingered, the last to reach the door. Right before it shut behind him, he turned, and locked his eyes with mine.
In that brief, silent moment, something raw and wordless passed between us—something that felt like a promise, or maybe a warning. I couldn’t tell which.
Only that it mattered.
