The djinn hits the floor.
I blink frantically, trying to clear the glassy blur from my vision and make sense of what happened. Pale faces stare back at me, but everyone remains standing. I’m tired, but otherwisefine. At least, I think I am. My ability to shift sits dormant inside me as always.
If it was gone, would there be anything left of me?
Sheena leans against Idris. Her eyelids droop as she fights to stay awake. “I healed all his injuries,” she says. “He may not wake up for a while, but he will wake up. I promise. There’s nothing wrong with his body.” She doesn’t mention his mind. Pain scars in many ways that can’t be seen, and we all know it.
“The wings,” Ciprian croaks. “What about his wings?”
Sheena winces. “I tried to reattach them, but I think they’ve been separated too long. My magic didn’t view them as an injury. I can try to regrow them, but I’m too weak to do it right now. I’m sorry.”
Celine’s head whips up, her brown eyes fierce. “Don’t be sorry. I’ll never be able to repayyou for all you’ve done.”
“You owe me nothing.” Sheena’s smile is tired but understanding. “Friends help each other, right?”
Celine’s eyes fill with tears. She glances at Malach’s face. It’s still splattered with blood, but the cuts and bruises are gone.
I imagine him waking up and realizing he doesn’t have wings anymore. My face glitches.
“I can carry him to the bedroom, baby.” Luca reaches for Malach.
Celine glances at me before meeting his eyes. “I’ve got to go back, Luca,” she says. “Rescuing Malach put fifty innocent staff members at risk. I won’t let them pay for what I did. I’m going to lock my father out of the house and destroy everything he’s built.”
Her declaration is met with silence.
I step forward. “I’m coming with you.”
Our night in the hotel might not have changed things for her, but it did for me. After years with no one to fight for but myself, I’m ready to stand for something.
Luca’s chest rises and falls slowly, then he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll go pack our bags.”
“Wait, Luca?—”
“Baby, if you say I’m not coming with you, I’m going to lose it. I’m yours, you’re mine, and this fight is personal for me, too.” He backs away slowly. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
His broad shoulders are stiff as he jogs away.
Ciprian looks at Sheena.
She nods. “I know, bestie. Be safe.”
“Tell Callum...” Ciprian gulps. “Tell my asshole brother I love him.”
Celine’s wings flutter anxiously. “Ciprian, you can’t?—”
“I can,” he insists. “You need Idris to make a portal back to the gateway. He won’t do it unless you let me come.” Ciprian tosses Idris an imploring look, and the fae rolls his eyes.
“Why not?” he drawls. “Use me as a pawn; I do not mind.”
The air ripples, and I look for Alistair, but he’s already gone, melting into the shadows.
He returns shortly, weaving around the tree roots pushing through the floor, two bags looped over his shoulders. “I packed some things for you,” he tells me.
I nod, my hold on Malach’s limp wings weirder by the second.
Luca runs around the corner less than a minute later, struggling beneath the awkward weight of three bags, one of which is huge.
Ciprian perks up. “Did you get?—?”
