So when the next wave hits, I bolt. No plan, no direction, just movement. Legs burning, breath ragged, I nearly fall twice but don’t stop, just keep running until I round a bend and the pressure finally eases.
Gasping, I bend over, hands on my thighs. Did I outrun it?
For a moment, I stay there, breathing hard. The Wards are gone... but something’s off. The air shifts.
I straighten, take a few steps forward, but my footsteps sound wrong. Too soft. Like the tunnel’s swallowing the noise. Even my heartbeat feels muffled.
I keep walking but glance back over my shoulder, it’s pointless, the Wards are invisible, but I can’t help it. Is it gone? I don’t know.
I turn around?—
— and slam straight into a wall. Rock solid. Hard.Warm?
Staggering back, breath jolting out, I look up.
“Well, well.” His words slide out like a blade drawn slow. “Out a little late for a stroll, aren’t you,Thorn?”
Shit, Talen.
The fucking Nightrose.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Pain flares through my left arm as Talen’s hand quickly moves, clamping down around it.
I flinch, breath hitching, strained enough to hiss through my teeth, but I can’t hear it...
The only sound left is his.
“Didn’t anyone warn you?” He smiles, stepping in closer, fingers tightening. “That wandering restricted tunnels alone at night can be fatal.”
His grip shifts, sliding just enough to dig his thumb into the inside of my elbow, nerve-deep, precise. A hard jolt locks through me, everything tightening at once.
Don’t flinch. Don’t give him anything. But my knees give—just a twitch, just enough—and he sees it. Of course he does.
“And don’t insult me with lies, we both know why you’re down here.” A beat. “And we both know the consequences if you’re caught…Thorn.”
His eyes lock on to mine, and my breath catches, locked in my throat—dark hazel, gold rims catching the lantern light just right, pulling me in like a helpless moth.
Fuck, he looks like a weapon carved into a man. Cut jaw, broad shoulders, hands you don’t want around you but can’t stop imagining there anyway.
God,what the hell is wrong with me?
He’s a fuckingVeirmont, a Citadel officer. He wants me dead.
The fear, the anger, it’s there—tight in my ribs, coiled in my gut—but it’s dulled, muted, like it’s sinking under something slower. Something warmer, safer...
No. No, no, no.
Nightrose.
This is how it works. How he does it. Beautiful, seductive—pulling you in, making you lean closer, right before he devours you whole.
Okay. Focus. Ignore the tricks. Think, plan, survive. Stall him. Keep talking. Just need time, long enough to find a way out that doesn’t end up trapped in his petals.
“The name’s Lyra,” I grit out, forcing a smile through the pain burning up my arm. “And luckily there’s a Citadel officer here to keep me safe, huh?”
He laughs, crooked grin growing. “First you get my brother killed, then you show up in my Offensive Magic class... and nowtonightof all things... You really are becoming a little thorn in my side, aren’t you. Maybe I should just rip you out right now?”
