“You said you were attacked?” he prompts.
I nod, replaying the events in my head. “We were ambushed by the military. I took a bad hit and was unconscious when itactually happened, but Nyx drew on his power to protect us, and once we dealt with the threat, we joined the others before heading back to the village. Ronan—”
I pause at Bash’s raised brow.
“He’s an Anunian deserter, mated, usually a pain in my ass… but he’s loyal. He found a leaf at the rift site after Nyx used his power.”
“A leaf?” he asks, nose wrinkled.
“From the other side.”
Bash’s sharp inhale almost makes me smile. Despite the tragedy of what was happening at Ljómur, he always lit up over his experiments. He spent years trying to force reactions from the rifts and never got to see any results from his hard work.
“How?” he asks.
“We’re not entirely sure,” I say with a small shrug. “It took an enormous amount of power… too much for him to risk trying it a second time. Later, when we discussed it, Sprocket mentioned your name, and… here I am.”
“So you’re here to ask for my help.”
“Basically,” I mutter.
He scoffs as his guard builds again, his feet moving in that same agitated circuit back and forth. “And what did your friends say about sending you to proposition your rejected mate?”
“Don’t say it like that,” I plead.
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
“I don’t know the whole story?” he repeats, his anger building as his fists ball at his sides. “I don’t knowanyof the story, Xenesis. All I know is one moment I was in your arms, and the next they were dragging me away while you sat there and watched. Youwatched!I fought an entire squadron trying to get back to you, and you didn’t even care!”
“I had to—”
“Youbrokeme!” he shouts.
My gaze drops to the floor, my vision blurred with the tears that burn behind my eye. The air is stifling with his anger as he drags in ragged breaths, pacing until he finally stops and faces me again.
“Why were you running from those guards?” he asks, voice clinical once again.
I swipe at my eye in an attempt to steady myself. “When I arrived, someone directed me to a pub where the owner was… sympathetic to deserters. He let me stay while I searched for you.”
“Leif?” he guesses.
“You know him?” I ask, glancing up.
Bash tilts his head in a conceding nod. “We run in the same circles. I’ve never met him, but I know who he is.”
“He had a friend who claimed to have information about you, but he wanted a favor first.”
“Who was this friend?” Bash asks.
“Gideon,” I say, and Bash exchanges a glance with Cato at the door.
“My older brother,” Cato explains.
“Real pleasant guy. The family resemblance is uncanny,” I say with a tone loaded with sarcasm. “Those schedules I was carrying when you caught me were for him.”
Cato glares at me, but eventually, curiosity wins. “What did he want them for?”
