I hope so. My gaze stayed glued to the barriers, half-formed and flickering, the setting sun dragging long shadows across the ground. We were running out of light. Running out of time.
Grayson's hand found my arm, his touch anchoring. "We need to move. Zandia's already sharpening her claws."
I didn't budge. Watching Trux, Rhiot, and Ro try to work together was like waiting for a bomb to go off. "I should be out there. Someone needs to keep them from killing each other."
Grayson arched a brow. Amused. Dangerous. "You really think your presence would fix that?"
I bit my lip, frustration boiling just under my skin. "Maybe not. But it'd be better than standing here doing nothing."
He leaned in, voice dropping to a growl meant only for me. "Let them tear each other apart if they have to. Your job is bigger than babysitting. You need to survive Zandia. And she's already demanding updates."
His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. Because he was right. Again.
"And besides," he added with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, "parents rarely like the people their kids date. Throw in supernatural bloodlines, and it gets messy fast."
Reluctantly, I let him pull me away from Ro, Trux, and Rhiot. He led me deeper into the labyrinth that was the Division's headquarters, away from the fight I couldn't stop and the barriers that still shimmered and pulsed with unfinished magic.
"Promise me they'll be okay," I whispered, the words clawing out of me before I could lock them down.
Grayson squeezed my hand, warm and solid. "Promise. Seph will keep them in check"
I sucked in a breath, straightened my spine, and nodded. "Alright. Let's go."
We walked side by side into the belly of the compound, into the unknown.
And even with the darkness pressing in on all sides, even with the weight of every impossible thing still to come… I didn't feel alone.
Not anymore.
The second we stepped inside, the change hit me like a punch to the gut.
Gone was the cold, sterile room where Zandia had barked orders like a pissed-off god. In its place? A living room that looked like it had been ripped straight from my dreams. Plush couches. Throw pillows that begged to be touched. Warm lighting softened the hard edges of the compound. A command center tucked into the far wall like it had always been part of the plan.
"Wow," I breathed out, unable to fake indifference if my life depended on it.
"Do you like it?" Grayson asked, voice casual. But I felt the tension underneath.
"Like it? I love it." I turned in a slow circle, drinking it all in. "When the hell did you have time for this?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin pulling at his mouth. "Laid out the plans after Zandia's tantrum. Kearan saw them. Decided not to wait."
"Kearan?" My chest tightened, sharp and sweet at once. Quiet, steady Kearan, doing this without asking. Without needing recognition. Just because he thought it would help.
Grayson nodded, pride humming through the bond. "He wanted you to have a real home. Somewhere you could breathe."
It wasn't perfect. It was more. It was ours.
"Tell him thank you for me," I said, my voice rougher than I liked.
"I will," Grayson promised, his gaze warming.
Before I could drown in the feeling, he straightened. Business mode sliding back into place. "Come on. We need to focus."
I moved toward the command center, my hands brushing the leather of a nearby chair, needing that physical connection. Needing to ground myself.
"Kearan," I called, spotting him lingering near the doorway like he didn't know if he was allowed to step further inside. "Thank you. It's amazing."
He blinked. Like he hadn't expected me to notice. As if he didn't think it mattered.
