And go where? I’m inside Aurora’s mountain fortress. Countless operatives between me and freedom. Even if I escaped detention, I wouldn’t make it to the perimeter before they brought me down.
So I walk and try to accept what’s coming. Try to find some measure of peace with the reality that this might be how my life ends.
We reach level four. Turn into a main corridor. More people here—operatives moving between assignments. They ignore me completely. As if I don’t deserve acknowledgement.
I’m the Syndicate defector accused of murdering one of their own. Of course they hate me.
Twenty meters ahead, a side corridor intersects with the main route. Storage areas branch off from there. Maintenance access.
With every step, my tension ratchets up. The set of the guards’ shoulders threatens menace, as if they’re just waiting for an excuse to take me out.
What the fuck is happening?
Whatever it is, I’m destined not to find out.
The lead guard is five meters from the intersection when someone bursts from the side passage. Fast. Lethal. Unmistakable.
Nadia!
My dragon explodes against the suppression. The reaction is instantaneous and visceral. My breath stops entirely for half a second as flames flare beneath my skin.
She’s here. Real. Close.
She moves with speed I barely track.
The lead guard goes down hard. Some kind of strike to the throat that drops him gasping and stunned. The guard behind me starts to react, but she’s already there. She disarms him with brutal efficiency and uses his own momentum to slam him into the wall. He crumples.
Both guards are neutralized in under five seconds.
It all happens so fast, it’s all I can do to stand there blinking in surprise.
“What—?” I don’t get further.
She grabs my arm. Even through my shirt, the contact burns. “Move!”
I resist on instinct. “Nadia? What are you—?”
“Not now.” She’s scanning the corridor, checking if anyone saw the takedown. “Storage room. Now.”
She pulls me toward a small space lined with supplies. Closes the door behind us. Dims the lights to a faint glow.
We’re alone for the first time since I walked away from her rejection.
Her scent overwhelms me in the confined space. The mate bond I’ve been trying to ignore roars to life between us. A pull so strong that it takes active effort not to reach for her.
“What are you doing?” I ask. I keep my voice low and controlled, even though my dragon is roaring.
“Getting you out.” She’s working on my suppression cuffs with some kind of tool. Lock pick or electronic override.
“No.” I pull back from her touch, which is sending heat through my entire arm. “I need to face this.”
“Jericho—”
“They have no real evidence. They should investigate properly before reaching conclusions. I didn’t kill Samien, and a thorough investigation will—”
“You don’t understand.” She gets the first cuff off my left wrist. Partial suppression lifts immediately. The relief is staggering—like breaking the surface after drowning. “There’s new evidence now.”
“What evidence?”
