"Wait."
I turned to find one of the ST5 members standing in the corridor… the man with the scar across his jaw who'd tried to protect the possessed operative. Richard, I remembered from the files. Former military. Fifteen years with the Division. No supernatural heritage, just training and determination.
"I want to request a transfer," he said without preamble, his stance military-straight. "To your unit. ST3."
Surprise caught me off guard. "Why?"
Something flashed in his eyes, too quick to name. "Let's just say I'm tired of being treated like cannon fodder." His gaze moved past me to where the operative lay recovering. "I want to work with people who actually give a damn when things go sideways."
Grayson stepped forward slightly, positioning himself between us. "That's not our decision to make. Transfers go through Zandia."
Richard nodded once, sharp. "I'll put in the paperwork. But I wanted you to hear it from me first." He hesitated, then added, "What you did in there… I've never seen anything like it. Demons don't leave voluntarily. They have to be forced out. Usually with..." He trailed off, but the implication hung in the air between us. Usually, with the death of the host.
"We'll see what Zandia says," I replied carefully, not committing to anything.
He nodded again and stepped back, giving us space to continue down the corridor. But as we walked away, I felt his eyes on my back, watching. Waiting. For what, I couldn't begin to guess.
"What do you think he really wants?" I asked Grayson quietly.
His hand found mine, fingers intertwining with practiced ease. "Hard to say. But nothing good comes from Division spies, Parker. Remember that."
The thought settled in my stomach like a stone. One more complication. One more threat. But for now, at least, we'd won. The demon was gone. The operative was free. And I'd found a new way to channel my power… one that didn't leave me drained and vulnerable.
One battle down. Countless more to come.
CHAPTER 21
IT WAS FUCKING IMPRESSIVE IS WHAT IT WAS.
I leaned against the wall of our makeshift celebration room, watching Rhiot pop the cork on a bottle of champagne that probably cost more than I could fathom. My body felt strange… lighter somehow, like I'd shed an invisible weight. The new power hummed beneath my skin, a counterpoint to the exhaustion that dragged at my limbs. For the first time in months, maybe years, something that wasn't dread, fear, or bone-deep weariness curled in my chest. Something dangerously close to hope.
"We should be saving this for when we're actually done," Kearan said, accepting a plastic cup of champagne with a frown that didn't reach his eyes.
Rhiot grinned, pouring with extravagant flourishes. "Saving it for what? World peace? The apocalypse getting canceled? This is literally the best day we've had in months. I'm not waiting for another one."
"Well, except for meeting Parker, that is." Seph came by and hugged me, placing a soft kiss on my cheek before dancing off.
The room, our new common area, felt different tonight. Warmer. The soft lighting Kearan had installed caught the edges of everyone's faces, softening the hard lines of stress and suspicion that had become our default expressions. Seph had dragged in extra cushions from somewhere, arranging them in a loose circle on the floor. Grayson had somehow produced actual food—not Division-provided slop, but real food. Sandwiches with fancy bread, sliced fruit that wasn't from a can, cheese that didn't come in individually wrapped slices.
It wasn't much. But after weeks of constant chaos from betrayals, situations thrust upon us, and other nonsense I was too tired to even think about, it was perfect.
"You gonna drink that?" Rhiot asked, nodding at the cup I'd accepted but hadn't touched.
I took a small sip; the bubbles burning pleasantly down my throat. "Tastes expensive. And dry. I don't understand that part."
"It should," he said, dropping down beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. "Stole it from Zandia's personal stash. Figured she owes us after the shit she's put us through."
A laugh escaped me before I could catch it. "She'll know it was you."
"Of course she will." He shrugged, unrepentant. "She'd be disappointed if it wasn't."
Across the room, Seph was telling some animated story, her hands cutting through the air for emphasis. Grayson watched her with that half-smile that made my chest tight, nodding along at all the right moments. Kearan sat slightly apart, as always, but he wasn't staring at the floor or the wall. His attention was fixed on the group, his posture less rigid than it had been in weeks.
And then there was Ryker.
He stood near the doorway, human-shaped but not quite part of the celebration. No champagne in his hand. No smile on his face. Just watchful eyes that tracked every movement, every gesture, like he was cataloging potential threats. He hadn't shifted to raccoon form the moment I entered the room. Which was rare these days. And he hadn't bolted when I caught his eye. He was just... there. Present. In a way he hadn't been since the night our bond failed.
It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't even acceptance. But it was something.
