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I looked back at him. “Trust me.”

His entire face looked like that was the most terrifying thing I had said all night. Then, he let go.

I raised both hands toward the cabin Ward, not touching, just letting my Magic bloom through the space between my palms. Gold from Earth. Blue from Sky. A thin veil of iridescent light that I refused to admit was pink, not stronger than the Hellmark, not heavier than Dragon Magic, but wrong enough to make the black and red lines hesitate.

“Tactical sparkle,” I muttered.

The Hellmark hissed.

The black and red threads lost cohesion. Their sharp edges wobbled like bad reception in a thunderstorm. The bronze Ward sigils surged, reasserting themselves with a deep, steady pulse of Guy’s Dragon Magic.

For one heartbeat, I felt Guy in it. Not personally. Not like his thoughts. Just the shape of his will built into the cabin.

Protect. Hold. Do not open.

My chest squeezed.

“Smart Wards,” I whispered.

Knox came up beside me. “Guy’s?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “He told them to protect people. Not just hold prisoners.”

Knox looked at the glowing sigils with an expression I couldn’t quite translate. Pride, maybe. Grief, definitely. Love, absolutely.

The black and red threads snapped away from the roofline. The Hellmark pulsed once in Knox’s arm, angry and thwarted. Then the cabin door unlocked with a heavy metallic thunk.

I dropped my hands.

“Ha,” I said weakly. “Take that, evil Magical spaghetti.”

Knox opened the door with his free hand, then paused. “Magical spaghetti?”

“I’m workshopping.”

“Don’t.”

“No promises.”

Inside, the cabin smelled like dust, iron, old cedar, and dried sage. The front room held a narrow cot against one wall, a small fireplace, a scarred table, two chairs, shelves of sealed jars, and enough emergency supplies to make me wonder how often Arrhythmia tried to kill people indoors.

Knox guided me in first, then shut the door behind us. The moment it closed, the outside noise dropped away. Not silence exactly.

Containment.

The cabin Wards settled around us in a low bronze hum. Guy’s Magic was here, but fainter than at the house. Less saturated. More structural than personal. Like standing near an old fence he had built instead of being inside his living room.

The tether dulled.

Knox felt it too. His shoulders lowered a fraction. I watched that tiny change with entirely too much attention.

“You can breathe,” I said softly.

His gaze flicked to mine. For once, he didn’t argue. He inhaled. Slowly. Then again.

I kept my hand in his because the blur around the tether held better that way, and because neither one of us had moved to let go.

Not that I was noticing.