I’m cleared. I’m safe.
Because Logan rewrote an innocent man’s memory to ensure it.
JADE
The clockon the wall reads 9:47 PM, and I’ve been staring at it for the past hour like it might spontaneously combust.
Which, given where I go to school, isn’t outside the realm of possibility.
Evie’s bed has been empty since dinner, when she mumbled an excuse about needing to check a reference in the library and disappeared. That was four hours ago. Four hours of me sitting here alone, replaying the morning’s events on an endless loop, jumping at every sound in the hallway.
9:52 PM.
Almost ten. It’s time to go.
I change into my training gear, lacing up my boots with hands that won’t stop shaking. The hallway is quiet, most of Phoenix Hall already settled in for the night.
I move through the shadows until I reach the storage closet at the back of the building. Once inside, I press my palm against the wall. My sigil warms, the stone shimmers, and then I’m stepping through into the familiar darkness of the passages.
Logan’s leaning against the wall. There’s a grayish cast to his skin that the torchlight can’t fully hide, and the shadows under his eyes are deeper than they were this morning.
How many times did he have to jump back to save me in the Observatory?
The moment he sees me, he crosses the distance between us in three long strides, and then his hands are cupping my face and his mouth is on mine, kissing me like he’s drowning and I’m air.
I make a small sound of surprise against his lips, but then my hands are fisting his shirt, pulling him closer, and I’m kissing him back with all the fear, relief, and desperate need that’s been building since this morning.
When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.
“I’m sorry.” The words scrape out of him like they’ve been sitting in his throat for hours. “They warded the Observatory from fire travel during the investigation. If I’d been even thirty seconds earlier, he never would have?—”
“Logan.” I reach up to touch his face, and his eyes close for a half second at the contact.
“He touched you.” The words come out dark and dangerous. “He put his hands on you, and I wasn’t there to stop it.”
“You did stop it. You compelled him before he could see anything.”
“That’s not the point.” Every shift of his weight is coiled and deliberate. “If I could have gone back further, I would have been waiting in that Observatory before you even walked through the door.”
His pupils are blown so wide the gray is barely a ring, and the way he’s looking at me—like I’m all that’s keeping him from tearing this passage apart—makes the electricity under my skin hum louder.
“I’m okay,” I tell him softly. “You got there in time. You took care of it, like you promised you would when we were on the Crown.”
He makes a sound that’s almost a laugh, except there’s no humor in it. “When I saw the storm brewing, I knew you were losing control. So, I jumped back and found the nearest passage entrance to the Observatory.”
He saysjumped backthe way someone else would saytook the stairs—like bending time is just another tool in his pocket, barely worth commenting on.
“How far back?” I ask.
“Two minutes. Maybe three.” He shakes his head. “Not far enough. By the time I got there, the lightning had already struck. You were standing in the wreckage, and he was reaching for you, and I swear, I almost killed him. I only stopped because if a Council investigator turned up dead, they’d tear this island apart looking for answers.”
“But you didn’t kill him. You controlled yourself.”
“Barely.” The word scrapes out like a confession. “When it comes to you, I don’t know how much control I have left.”
“Then stop trying,” I tell him, strong and certain.
His eyes darken. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
