Inside: two handguns. One compact SMG. Two extra magazines. And a box of ammo stamped with a faint Guild seal.
I sit on the bench and take my time. There’s something steadying about the routine, something almost meditative.
Click. Magazine in.
Slide back. Chamber check. Safety on.
The first handgun is a Glock—light, efficient, modified with a grip that fits my hand perfectly. The second is heavier, closer range with more stopping power. I tuck them into their holsters: one under my arm, the other at the small of my back.
I’ve done this a hundred times in training.
But never like this.
Never with this kind of finality. Every click echoes louder than it should.
No fear. No hesitation. Just the knowledge that this gear, this loadout — it’s not for drills or simulations.
It’s for real targets. Real danger.
Real blood.
I stand and recheck the gear once more, fingers brushing over each knife sheath, mag pouch, and strap until I know it all by muscle memory. There’s a rhythm to it now. A sharpness in my movements I didn’t have even weeks ago.
You’re your mother’s fire, Lucian said.And my storm.
I’m starting to believe him.
I look at myself again in the mirror, guns strapped across my body, hair tied back, eyes steady.
I don’t look like a girl pretending anymore.
I look ready for war.
38 HERE WE GO
The corridor hums with low energy as we file into the mission bay one by one, shadows slipping into formation. Final checks. Secured gear. Loaded weapons. The scent of gun oil and steel clings to the air.
We’re minutes from launch.
Jace is beside me as I double-check my vest and pull my gloves tighter. His presence is quiet, steady — like it always is — but now it hums beneath the surface. A thread between us.
He waits until the others are a few steps ahead, then leans in close. “I need to talk to you.”
“Not now.”
He reaches for my hand but I pull away. “No, Jace. I can’t do this with you.”
He freezes. “Please, Isobel. I just need a moment.”
I turn and stare. “What, Jace? You’ve been icy to me all morning, and now you want to talk?”
“I just…” He runs his hand through his hair, then steps up to me, reaching for my face.
“No, Jace.” I smack hishand away.
His eyes harden. “You’re choosing him.”
I stare up into his eyes, like he can see everything inside me. “I said, not now.”
