Finally giving up on sleep, I get up and move to stand at the wide windows on one side of the corner office that, only yesterday, I claimed as my own.
This office isn’t as large as the one my stepfather used, but it has its own bathroom and a view that lets me see all of the surrounding buildings and far into the distance.
The sun rises slowly across the city, rays of light stretching out toward me. The brightness hides the shadows within the streets below me, the dark alleys and grungy nightclubs, the dangers that become even more hidden in the daylight.
Abel’s warning from yesterday reverberates around and around my mind.
He told me to prepare for war.
But war only risks the lives of those I care about.
When I risked lives before, it was because I had no choice. I was forced into situations not of my own making.
Now, my choices are my own, and I won’t risk anyone. Not my friends who have transformed the Academy into what it should be. Not the assassins who took me in and gave me a new family. Not my stepsister. And I sure as fuck won’t risk Peyton’s life. Even if the danger to her is remote right now, I’ll never place danger in her path again.
Quiet sounds outside the door draw my attention. I recognize my stepsister’s demon scent, along with her gait, a few seconds before she knocks softly on the door. “Striker?”
“Come in.”
She’s hesitant as she pushes open the door, remaining in the doorway despite my welcome. She and I have a long way to go, but we have to start somewhere.
I incline my head away from the door, and she takes a step inside, her gaze flickering to the rumpled couch. “You slept here?”
I give her a small smile before I turn back to the view, ignoring the couch, as I gesture at all the buildings. “When you look out of this window, what do you see?”
She approaches silently. Even from a distance, I could perceive the dark rings under her eyes that tell me she might have slept more badly than I did. I’ve certainly never known her to get up this early.
She stops a few paces away from me and considers the skyscrapers, the glittering glass, the new rays of light. “A prison.”
Her response surprises me. “Zara?”
Her lips press together.
I reach out to her. “Talk to me.”
“You survived against all the odds, Striker. I can’t stand by and watch you become fodder in a new war.” She swings to me. “I won’t do it.”
I nod. “That’s good because I don’t intend to be drawn into a war.”
She takes a quick breath. “Wait… what?”
I allow myself to smile at her astonishment. I don’t blame her for thinking I would opt for bloodshed first.
Still, I don’t address her surprise, asking a question instead. “What do you know about Abel?”
She switches gears quickly—one of the things I like about her—even though I can tell she really wants to know more about my intentions.
“Not a lot,” she says. “He appeared on the scene six months ago. Father brought him to a board meeting one day. That was the first I saw of him.”
“How did they meet?”
“I’m not certain.” She shakes her head. “I’d never heard of him before then, but I suppose that’s part of his job. To remain anonymous.”
“Is he a dragon shifter?”
She glances at me. “He appears to be.”
I arch my eyebrows at her but keep my voice gentle. “That isn’t what I asked.”
