So what do I say?
The truth, minus the parts that are none of his business: I went rogue. Found Jericho. Syndicate attacked. We survived together. I brought him back to Aurora as originally intended.
Simple.
Except for the part where Viktor walked in on us seconds before I would have—
I shove the memory away. It doesn’t help. Because now I’ve brought him back alive but compromised—and I have no doubt that everyone in this helicopter knows exactly how compromised I am.
Will they take me back?
Do I want them to?
Aurora was home. The pack I chose when my birth pack felt too small. The purpose I built after Chance died. The identity that filled the void his death left.
But I walked away from it. Chose personal vengeance over duty.
Viktor hasn’t said a word to me since we boarded. Just sits there watching with those cold, calculating eyes. Letting me stew. Letting me imagine all the ways this interrogation will go.
He’s good at this. Stoic silence that makes operatives confess before questions are even asked.
I won’t.
The flight stretches. Mountains pass below. Thirty minutes. Maybe forty. Each one feeling longer than the last.
I risk a glance at Jericho. He’s staring out the window. Profile hard and controlled. Jaw tight. Not looking at me.
Does he know what “hostile holding” means? Does he understand that Viktor didn’t say “process the defector” or “prepare guest quarters”?
Does he realize they might have changed their minds about sanctuary?
My wolf whines. Wanting him. Wanting to be near him. Wanting—
I lock her down. This isn’t the time.
The helicopter banks. Descending. The complex comes into view below—fortress built into mountainside, multiple levels carved into rock, landing pad jutting out from the main structure.
Home. Or what used to be.
We touch down. The pilot cuts engines. The sudden relative quiet is jarring.
Viktor unbuckles and stands. “Out. Now.”
I unbuckle. Stand too. My legs are steadier than they were leaving the motel.
The door opens. Cold mountain air rushes in—sharp and clean and familiar. I step out onto the landing pad. Aurora headquarters rises around me. Guards at every checkpoint. Security everywhere. Operatives moving with purpose. Several turn to watch as we disembark. News travels fast. They know. By now, everyone knows that Nadia Frost went rogue and then returned with Jericho Allon.
What they’re also probably learning right now: exactly how screwed up things got.
Viktor steps past me. Turns. “Frost, I want you back in your quarters. An operative will escort you. Stay there.” Then to theguards waiting nearby: “Get the commander to a holding cell, level three. Full restraints. Standard hostile intake protocol.”
My throat goes dry.
Guards move toward Jericho. He stands without resistance as they pull his arms roughly behind his back with more force than necessary. One guard’s hand is too tight on his shoulder, fingers digging in.
“Hands behind your back,” the lead guard says. Flat. Cold. “Don’t resist.”
It’s unnecessary. Jericho doesn’t fight. Doesn’t protest. Just stands there with that controlled expressionless mask while they bind him like he’s not a defector who risked everything but a war criminal being processed for detention.
