Property.
Like Kayla.
Like our child.
Valentine finally finds his voice. “Nightshade?—”
“You got us thirty minutes?” I ask.
He hesitates – a fraction, barely a breath.
“There’s a request in,” he says carefully. “But…authorisation is pending.”
Meaning: Not cleared. Not guaranteed. Blocked.
Seytan is sandbagging the entire operation.
Good.
It will give me something to destroy later.
The rage reignites, hot and all-consuming. My chest heaves with barely restrained fury. The cold, sterile nature of this room only feeds the flames.
They think they can control me?
I explode.
My fist slams into the nearest equipment – glass shatters, metal folds. A chair shrieks across the floor before splintering against the wall. Shelves topple. Supplies scatter. The destruction is instantaneous, violent, insufficient.
Kayla.Pregnant. Kayla.Taken.
I pace like a storm trapped in human skin. Her face in the window reflection. Her laugh in the buzz of fluorescents. Her body under my hands, round with our child. Every memory another coal tossed into the furnace.
Should I tell the others? Should they know Kayla is Seytan and Valentine’s daughter? That she carries my child? Would they follow me harder – or turn against me? The uncertainty slithers under my ribs.
The hum of the lights grows sharper. The room compresses around me. My vision tunnels again, heat rushing behind my eyes.
Thirty minutes. Helicopter. Escape. Find Kayla.
Whether Seytan signs the authorisation or not, I’m getting off this island.
I storm out of the ruined room, leaving chaos in my wake. The corridors stretch ahead – long, empty, hummingwith distant alarms. Staff scatter. Guards step aside. My boots hammer out a vow on the tile.
Kayla is out there. She’s carrying my child.
So no matter what it takes, I’ll get them both back.
And worlds will burn.
LIQUID FIRE
Like A Drug - Bryce Savage
Kookaburra
It starts with breath.
Hot against my throat. Slow. Certain.
