Fragile.
She had no idea. But she was close. Too close. If she went to the Old Quarter, if she started digging into Selene’s life…
My phone buzzed on the counter, vibrating against the stone. Selene’s name lit the screen.
I think I’ve found something. Need backup. Industrial Crescent.
A second message loaded, an address.
Old Blackwood Mill. North…
Then the screen glitched. The message froze, fragmented into pixels. The address disappeared, replaced by static.
The fragments were enough. I recognised the location. Old Blackwood Mill was a known Highspire disposal site. Selene had walked straight into the crosshairs.
A searing heat exploded in the scar above my heart—a jagged, primal pull that screamed a warning I couldn’t ignore.
Rational thought vanished, replaced by blind panic. I bypassed the lift and took the stairs three at a time, the corridor blurring into a grey smear. She was in a trap, and I was miles away.
I abandonedthe car at the entrance to the Industrial Crescent. The air here tasted thin, metallic—magic gouged out of the surroundings.
A localised dead zone. Stronger than any I had encountered. Someone had been busy, and sloppy. The erasure of the Umbrakynn in the Lows had been clean; this was an open wound in the atmosphere.
I followed the disturbance past the skeletal giants of rust and cracked concrete.
Then I saw it. An old brick structure, its side entrance a gaping maw marked by a faded, chipped sign. Blackwood Mill.
The freight lift was external—a monstrous cage of rusted iron attached to the side of the building, descending into a concrete trench. It was already moving, slowly grinding its way down to a lower level, the machinery groaning under strain.
Metal screeched. A dull, sickening thud echoed from within the cage. Then, a choked breath—unmistakably hers.
My world narrowed to a pinpoint. Shadows coiled around me, dense and immediate, as I sprinted for the sinking cage. I vaulted the safety rail and dropped into the void, landing hard on the metal grating.
Inside, crumpled in the corner, was Selene. She was dazed, blood matting her hair. Standing over her was an Umbrakynn guard, his hand already reaching for her throat.
I slammed into him before he could close his grip.
The impact threw him backward into the iron mesh. The lift groaned, swinging violently on its cables.
I reached past him and drove my fist onto the emergency brake lever.
CLANG.
The lift juddered to a violent halt, the gears screaming in protest. We were suspended a quarter of the way down the shaft, aligned with a concrete service landing.
The guard rolled, pushing himself up with unnatural speed. Shadows erupted around me—a cold, violent response to the panic spiking in my blood. I recognised him immediately. One of Varessia’s dogs. Augmented. His strength was too explosive, his recovery too fast for a common soldier.
Grabbing his tactical vest, I drove him backward, heaving him through the open gate onto the landing. Fighting inside risked dropping the cage, so I vaulted out after him.
He scrambled up, snarling with chemically induced rage, and lunged in a blur. We clashed hard enough to rattle my teeth. Pressing the advantage, I drove a knee into his gut and slammed his skull against the concrete.
I heard a satisfying crack, a sound that would cripple a normal man.
But he wasn’t normal. The augmentation flooded his system, bypassing the pain. He twisted, drawing a knife I hadn’t seen.
A white-hot pain rammed into my side.
My vision tunnelled, dark tendrils creeping into the periphery. I stumbled backward, the shock of the invasion stealing my breath. He shifted his weight, ready to strike again, a grim smile twisting his lips.
