“And yet…”
“I’m no longer Syndicate.”
He studies me. Reading. Calculating. Making decisions I’m not privy to.
“The Council meets in forty-eight hours,” he says finally. “They’ll decide your fate based on the intelligence you’re offering. This information about Vex… it changes calculations. But it doesn’t guarantee anything.”
“I understand.”
“If the facility exists and your intel is accurate, sanctuary becomes more likely. If you’re lying, execution becomes certain.”
“I’m not lying.”
He walks to the door. Knocks once. It opens immediately—guards waiting outside.
Before he leaves, he looks back. “Frost has been given orders. No contact with you until the Council decides. If you care about her at all, you’ll hope they grant sanctuary. Because if they don’t, she’ll spend the rest of her life knowing she compromised herself for nothing.”
Then he’s gone. The door locks behind him.
I sit back down on the mattress.
The Vex intelligence is out there now. Viktor will take it to the Council. They’ll weigh whether the information is worth granting sanctuary to a war criminal.
It might be enough.
Might not.
Meanwhile, Nadia waits. Probably blaming herself for complications she didn’t create. Probably wondering what happens next.
My dragon pushes against the suppression. Wanting to go to her. Wanting to make sure she’s okay. Frustrated by barriers that keep us separated.
I try to focus on what I can control. Which is nothing. Just wait for the Council to decide if I live or die.
The light in the ceiling flickers once. Steady hum of the suppression field. Concrete walls closing in.
I came here for sanctuary. I might die here instead.
But I’d do it again.
The certainty sits in my chest. Absolute. Unshakeable. I’d make the same choice. Defect. Risk everything. End up in this cell awaiting execution.
But would I do it for ideology alone?
The question surfaces despite trying to avoid it. Is this about the Syndicate? About stopping complicity in atrocities? About moral clarity?
Or is it about her?
I don’t know. That’s the truth I can’t escape. I defected before I met her. The decision was made. The intelligence gathered. The sanctuary request submitted. But somewhere in those mountains, my reasons changed.
Or maybe they just expanded.
Purpose isn’t always singular. Sometimes it’s layered. Ideology and desire. Principle and recognition. The right thing and the necessary thing.
I defected to stop being complicit.
I’d do it again… because of her.
Chapter 18
