But anger steels me. Rage washes over my skin as I walk back down the long flights of stairs, the sound of boots on stone ringing in my ears. I’m a comet speeding through the atmosphere. I’m bright and fire and death. I’m the apocalypse coming. Zohran, that bastard, that arrogant fuck, he thinks he can take what he wants, he thinks he can bend any rule and get away with it, but I won’t roll over. I won’t give the future to him. I won’t let him take the world and make it his own playground.
There’s still time.
Even here, at the end of a long, dark tunnel, staring at only more darkness ahead: there’s still fucking time.
CHAPTER 28
NIKA
Moving Daniel wasn’t easy. It took three men and a lot of cursing to get him in the back of a van, and a lot more grunting and thrashing and eventually some strong pain meds before we reached our destination.
It’s definitely not Paris anymore.
We’re a couple hours outside of the city in a small village, barely more than rolling vineyards and a central town square. Daniel’s holed up in a villa tucked back away from the main residential area. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s in bad shape, I bet he’d love it here.
I drink coffee and watch the quiet main avenue. Not much is happening this afternoon. Sun streams through trees and plays off colorful buildings. It’s strange to think that half the structures here are older than my entire home town. There’s a canal nearby and its weedy, algal stink wafts on the breeze when the wind blows, but I don’t mind it. The pace here is brutally slow, at least compared to Paris, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe we need to take a step back.
My mind drifts. I stare off into the distance. There’s something missing. Something deeply wrong. Gabe came back from his mission like he’s been burned, but he wouldn’t explain what happened, only evacuated everyone from the city and said we had to regroup out here where we could be safe.
That was three days ago, and I’ve barely seen him since.
Which is why it’s such a surprise when he comes striding toward me, walking along like it’s the most normal thing in the world. A powerful, dangerous man in jeans and a linen shirt, looking like he belongs to this tiny little provincial town instead of in the heart of the world burning his enemies alive. I smile, sit up straight, and accept a kiss on the lips before he sits across from me.
“I almost forgot about you.” I study his face. I try to play it off like this is no big deal, like everything’s okay, but I’m deeply worried about him.
“I doubt that.” He sits back, looking off across the street. I know his men are lurking nearby and he’s probably checking to make sure they’re still in their positions.
“There’s something different about you.” I lean forward, tapping my lip with my finger. “Did you get a haircut?”
He laughs. “Not exactly.”
“New clothes? Deep tissue massage?”
“Actually, I did something even better. I kept a promise.”
“Huh, did you now? Here I was thinking you’re the biggest flake in the world.”
His grin fades, but I see it more clearly now. Ever since we left Paris, there’s been a tension in his shoulders like he’s carrying something. Whatever happened during that ambush changed him in an ugly way and he’s been struggling with it ever since. Now though, he seems lighter.
“I should apologize to you, Nika. We made a deal when this all started and I haven’t kept up my side of the bargain.”
My heart quickens. I wave a hand, playing it off like it's nothing. “That doesn’t matter right now. We can deal with my mother when you’re a Dragon.”
“No, baby, we can’t.” The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine, like he’s not sure thereisan after. “I made a promise to you, and I need to keep it. You’re too important to me.”
“Well, I appreciate that, but come on?—“
His eyes lock on mine. “Baby, I found her.”
I stiffen. I feel like someone jabbed me in the throat with a bare, hot electric wire. I try to form words but I can’t say anything. My heart’s hammering and sweat breaks out across my brow.
This is what I’ve always wanted. For so long I’ve dreamed about meeting my mother, speaking to her, getting to know the woman who gave birth to me and disappeared. “She’s not… she’s actually, I mean…”
“She’s alive,” he confirms with a nod.
I let out a soft gasp. He comes around the table and kneels at my side, one hand rubbing my back in slow circles, the other steadying me. I feel strangely sick, strangely disconnected from my body, my head floating up into the air and my hands getting all big and bloated. I’m puffy, bodiless, or maybe too much body.
My mother’s alive.
