My throat closed suddenly, grief and longing tangling together until I couldn't separate them. "She knew," I said, the words barely audible. "All that time, she knew what I was. What would happen to me? And she never said anything. I just can't reconcile the two sides of her yet."
"She protected you the only way she could." Grayson's voice held absolute certainty. "She'd be proud of you, Parker. Of how far you've come. Of what you're building here."
I took the dagger back, its weight familiar and comforting against my palm. "I wish I could ask her what to do next." The admission cost me, pride bleeding out with the words. "About all the evil, hateful things she said and did. Or just asking my mother for advice like a daughter normally does."
"You know what to do next." Grayson's certainty wrapped around me like a blanket. "You already decided, didn't you? About Kearan."
I nodded, not bothering to question how he knew. Grayson always knew, even when I tried to hide my thoughts from him. "He's next. The bond... it feels right. Close already, in a way. Like it's been building toward this for a while."
"He might resist."
"I know." My fingers tightened around the dagger. "He keeps everyone at a distance." I trailed off, remembering Kearan's rare vulnerability, the way he'd finally let his guard down enough to sleep. "But he's ready. Even if he doesn't know it yet."
Grayson nodded slowly. "And Ryker?"
My eyes found the door, staring through it to where I knew Ryker still sat, maintaining his careful distance from everyone. From me especially. The bond between us… barely formed, hardly acknowledged… stretched thin and fragile across the space separating us. Not broken. Not yet. But stressed nearly to the breaking point by whatever pain he carried about me, about what I represented.
"I don't know," I admitted. "There's a wall there. Something I don't understand yet. Something I need to..." I shook my head. "He's not ready. And I'm not sure I've earned the right to push. Zandia swears it will work this time. And Kearan wants me to go to Ryker first. But Kearan feels like the right one to bond with next. Now it's up to him."
"He will," Grayson said simply. "When it's time."
The certainty in his voice wrapped around me like armor. Not blind faith or empty reassurance. Just quiet confidence, born of years spent seeing patterns others missed. If Grayson believed Ryker would come around eventually, then maybe...
A sharp crack from the common room interrupted my thoughts, followed by Seph's startled laugh and Trux's rumbling curse. We emerged from our temporary sanctuary to find Mephistral perched on the table, surrounded by scattered cutlery and a spray of breadcrumbs. The imp demon clutched a piece of toast in his tiny hands, crumbs dusting his chin as he chewed with theatrical enthusiasm.
"This! This is real food!" he declared, waving the toast like a flag. "Not that garbage they serve in the Division cafeteria! That's not food! That's punishment with seasoning!"
"Get off the table, you oversized cockroach," Trux growled, but the threat lacked heat. "There are plates for a reason."
"Plates are for beings with dignity," Mephistral sniffed. "I am a creature of chaos and opportunity."
"You're a creature of theft and poor table manners," Kearan said, emerging from the kitchen with another loaf of bread. He set it on the table without ceremony. "There. Now stop stealing from other people's plates."
Mephistral beamed, completely unrepentant. "You made this? With your own grumpy hands? I'm honored!"
Kearan's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his posture, a subtle ease that hadn't been there before. He caught me watching and held my gaze for a brief moment, something complicated moving behind his eyes.
Then he nodded once… acknowledgment, acceptance, something too subtle to name, and returned to his seat at the table. Not apart from the others as he usually sat. With them. Among them.
I watched them all… these broken, brilliant people who had somehow become mine. And how I'd become theirs. This fragile peace we'd built in the midst of demons and Division politics and ancient forces moving against us. This moment of normalcy felt more precious than any magical breakthrough or tactical victory.
This was what I'd been fighting for all along. Not some abstract mission or Division promotion. Not even my own survival, though that had certainly been a factor. This. These people. This space where they could exist without fear, if only for an evening.
My gaze lingered on Ryker, who had relaxed enough to contribute a few words to the surrounding conversation. Still distant and wounded. Still keeping himself apart, especially from me. But present. A problem for another day. A bond to forge when the time was right.
I tucked that worry away somewhere quiet, somewhere it wouldn't poison this rare moment of peace. I'd figure it out. I had to.
For now, just for tonight, I'd allow myself to believe we might actually survive what was coming. That the convergence Zandia spoke of, the balance my mother had prepared me for… that it might lead to something more than just destruction. That it might lead here, to this room, to these people, to something worth fighting for.
To something worth living for.
CHAPTER 26
HE'S BEEN WATCHING US FOR YEARS, WAITING FOR HER POWER TO MANIFEST.
All of my mates seemed to catch on that I needed space. Though Grayson kept monitoring my thoughts so he'd appear or send someone else if needed.
I sat cross-legged on my bed, the grimoire open across my lap, shadows pooling in the corners of my room where the single lamp couldn't reach. My eyes burned from staring at the same page for the last twenty minutes, but sleep felt impossible… not with Ro's words still echoing in my head. Someone who's been in your life for as long as me. The warning had burrowed under my skin like a splinter, impossible to ignore and too deep to extract.
