Cursing under my breath, I try again but even controlling Serrane isn’t this hard, still I brace against the strain and dig deeper, forcing the vibrations out steadier, stronger until finally, the tension in her body starts to loosen.
Dropping back onto my heels, I watch as, bit by bit, blood seeps back into her skin. warming what had gone white, the tension in my chest easing with it.
Then she blinks, and the frantic flicker of her eyes calms when they find mine. For one breath, maybe two, she doesn’t turn away. She just stares, those emerald-green eyes finally clear again, bright as cut glass in the morning light.
There you are.
Thank god.
I almost smile, almost let myself believe we’re okay, but then her expression changes. Her jaw stiffens, and the glare she gives me next—venomous and cracked with betrayal—cuts sharper than a fucking blade.
“You…” she spits, the word shaped like a verdict. “You stabbed her, Ezzy, and you killed him. Brian.” She whips her head toward Lucien, throwing the accusation at him next. “And you, you killed Rowan.” Her gaze jumps between us. “You’re brutes. Citadel butchers. Both of you.”
A cold, ugly feeling spreads beneath my skin as she glares at me, like I’m the villain, like I’m something to fear. And I get it, god, I get it. But it still wrecks me—not because she’s wrong, but because she isn’t. And because it’s her saying it.
Looking past me, her focus lands on JC’s massive blue-scaled form behind us, and the colour drains from her face again so fast I think she might throw up.
Shit.
“And you’re…” The question catches in her throat. “You’re... a dragon?”
Panic hits her, raw and wild, slamming against the fragile grip I have on her Threads. Jaw locked, I hold steady, pressing mine back with just enough pressure to keep her from breaking apart. But it’s climbing, and I can feel her slipping again.
“Yes,” I reply, keeping my hands raised. “Yes, we killed them. But it’s not what you think. And no—I’m not a dragon. Not technically.”
Exhaling hard, I swallow down everything I want to explain, everything I don’t have time to say right now.
“You deserve answers, Lyra, all of them. And I’ll give them to you. But right now, I need to get you out of this clearing alive.” Glancing down at her hands, still bound by ropes cuttinginto her bloodied wrists, I shift closer. “I’m trying to calm your Threads, but you’re in shock and panicking so hard I’m barely keeping them from tearing you apart. You’re scared of heights and I’m not strapping you to the back of a dragon like this.” I pause, bracing myself and already hating what I’m about to do. “So I’m going to do one last thing you won’t like.”
One glance at Lucien. He doesn’t hesitate, just nods, pulls the cloth from his pocket, and steps forward Lyra’s eyes flare as he presses it to her mouth, but her body goes limp before she can protest.
Moving fast, I catch her head before it hits the ground, lowering her gently, red curls spilling beneath her, before standing up and turning to face the Southern Peaks behind me.
“Fuck,” I shout, raking my fingers through my hair, pacing hard. “How did we end up here? We should’ve gotten her out ages ago. Not waited. And now… now, how many more people are dead because of me?”
“Don’t start that.” Luc argues. “You know Merrin was right. That she needed to stay. She wasn’t ready for the camp, for what's next. And don’t blame those deaths on yourself.”
His voice is steady, but tension runs through his arm as he lifts it, pointing toward the Innerlands, barely visible in the distance.
“That blonde kid, Rowan, he was too far gone. There was nothing I could’ve done—he was in agony. You know that. And Brian—the book nerd? Talen, if you and Merrin hadn’t acted first, Strannt would’ve done far worse. You saw how long they’d been circling him. They wanted to make an example of him to scare anyone else away from private research. He would’ve died slow and screaming. What you gave him was mercy, quick and painless.”
“Don’t—” I stop him, swallowing. “Don’t call it that.”
The usually dull gemstone around his neck catches the light as he steps in closer and looks right at me. “There was no clean way to get him out without blowing your cover. Don’t twist this into something it isn’t.”
Dropping my focus back to Lyra bound on the ground below me, the weight behind my chest builds all over again. “Shit, Luc—what if we’re just in too deep to see straight? What if there was a line and we already fucking crossed it? If we just had more time?—”
“Time?” he huffs. “We don’t have the luxury of time. We do what we have to, when we have to, so they don’t question us. That’s our job. We play the monsters so we can stop the real ones. Every kill we make in their name gets us one step closer to ending all of this for good.” Resting an arm on my shoulder, his voice drops. “Don’t forget why you’re here.”
My fists curl so damn hard, I’m surprised I don’t break skin, but I don’t bother pushing back; we’ve had this argument countless times. It’s always the same and never gets anywhere.
“Here.” Luc lets go and tosses me my talisman. Catching it, I drag my thumb over the worn crest before sliding it back into my pocket. “You know, I’ve never figured out why you don’t come back naked,” he laughs. “Would’ve been way more entertaining than showing up in your own clothes.”
Running my hands over the black Citadel piece of shit they call a uniform, I shrug, “Beats me. I’ve never understood any of this—and it’s not like Cal or the other dragons are ever in the mood to share.”
Heat blasts up my neck as JC exhales behind me—sharp and pointed. Too deliberate to be anything but pissed at my comment. Luckily, Cal’s finally settled back down; otherwise, I’m sure he would have snapped back.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I drop back down and start untying the ropes around Lyra’s delicate wrists.
