The dragon lunged, sweeping the rifles aside with one massive claw without hurting the men. Their terror won out, and they bolted.
As I stared at the dragon, his form rippled, shifted. It looked like it collapsed inward. Bones snapped, wings folded, scales dissolved into skin, heat became breath, and then Gideon knelt in the shattered glass, buck naked, panting, eyes blazing with the same fierce gold I had seen glimpses of before.
My hands flew to my mouth. "Gideon," I whispered.
He looked up at me.
"Inga," he gasped. "Don't be scared. I'm sorry—I'm so sorry—I should have told you what I?—"
I didn't let him finish. "GIDEON!"
I launched myself at him so fast we both nearly toppledbackward. My arms wrapped around his neck, my face pressed to his shoulder, and tears spilled hot and wild.
"You came," I cried. "You came. I love you—I love you so much?—"
His arms locked around me, one hand dug in my hair, the other crushed me to his chest like he never wanted to let me go again, like he needed me close to reassure himself I was real and here.
"Inga," he whispered in a broken voice. "I'd tear this whole damn city apart for you."
His wordsshouldhave scared me. Hell, everything about this should have scared me. But it didn't.
Maybe I'd used up all my fear years ago, in those long nights crouched in the shelter with my mother while the bombs fell like the sky was breaking open. Some nights they were distant, a dull thud that rattled the lantern glass.
Sometimes they were so close, the worldexploded,plaster rained down on us like dirty snow, the earth heaving under our feet as if it wanted to swallow us whole.
That had been fear. Real fear. The kind that crawls into your bones and stays there forever. The kind that makes your body tremble and shake more than any chills ever could. I remembered clinging to my mother, fingers digging into her coat, certain she could hold the ceiling up with her bare hands if she had to. Certain she could keep me safe. Certain she would survive.
I'd been wrong.
But standing before Gideon now… That old terror didn't rise. Not even close. Nothing about him—his words, his fire, his fury—made me want to run.
Because every line of his body, every breath he took, told me one truth: He would burn the world down forme. And for some insane, impossible reason, that was the most comforting thing I had ever felt. No one had ever protected me. No one had ever chosen me. No one had ever stood between me and danger.
In his presence, for the first time since the war began, I felt something I barely recognized: Safe.
Safe in the way only someone who has survived too many close calls can understand. Safe in the way that feels like stepping into warm light after years of crawling through an icy tundra. Safe in the way that made my entire body finally,finallyexhale.
Klaus hovered behind me. He was trembling at first, but slowly, shyly, he stepped forward. Gideon reached out a hand, and Klaus ran into him too, burying his face in Gideon's chest as Gideon wrapped both of us close.
My heart nearly burst. Behind us, my father shrieked.
"DU TEUFEL! You monster! You will NOT take my daughter!"
I turned my head toward him, my eyes burning with unshed tears, my voice shaking with fury and clarity. "'He's not a monster," I said softly. "You are."
The rage that crossed his face… I'll never forget it.
Gideon rose, pulling Klaus and me with him. "We're leaving," he stated.
"You'll never make it out," my father hissed. "The guards?—"
"Are unconscious," Gideon growled.
My father went pale, but he didn't try to stop us. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe he finally saw what real strength looked like.
Outside, the garden glowed pale under the moon. I grabbed Gideon's hand. "Gideon, how… how are we going to get out of here?"
He turned to me fully. "Do you trust me?"
