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“We're going to save those Weavers,” I interrupted. “We're going to stop your father. And we're all going to walk out of there alive.”

“Promise me,” his grip tightened, “that you'll weave yourself out of there. Don't let his hatred for what I've become put you at risk.”

“I can't promise that.”

I thought of every Weaver we'd lost, every woman who'd trusted me and paid for it with her life. Of August, who'd walked away from everything he'd known because I'd shown him another choice.

“But I promise to fight like hell.”

The door opened with barely a whisper of sound.

We crossed the threshold into shadow and stone, into the heart of everything we'd been fighting against. The air changed immediately—cold and stale, carrying the faint mineral smell of earth that hadn't seen sunlight in decades. Our footsteps echoed too loudly against the ancient stone.

Behind us, the morning light faded like a door closing on the life we'd known.

Ahead lay the tunnel that would take us to Elias Hawthorne.

And to the end of everything.

CHAPTER 50

AUGUST

At the mouth of the tunnel, Lily paused, and my heart hammered against my ribs.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

She turned to me, her hand finding mine. Her fingers were cold, but her eyes burned. “I’ve never been more ready.”

Something twisted in my chest. It wasn’t fear, it was something deeper. Hope.

And God, it scared me more than any blade ever had.

The tunnel swallowed us whole.

Damp stone. Slick steps. The scent of mold and something long dead. Garrick led, torch in hand, casting flickering shadows over the narrow walls. Every footfall echoed. Every breath felt too loud. We moved in single file, quiet as ghosts, until the light above us began to shift.

A glimmer of daylight filtered through cracks in the stone ceiling. The tunnel bent left, then climbed sharply.

Garrick signaled. “Courtyard’s through there. I’ll go up first. If I don’t come back in two minutes. . .”

“You’ll come back,” I said flatly.

He didn’t argue. Just disappeared into the shaft.

Lily turned to me, and even in the dim light, I could see the worry creasing her brow. “What if we’re too late?”

“Then we burn it down,” I said. “But we won’t be.”

Because this wasn’t just a rescue.

This was a reckoning.

And Elias was about to learn that he had forged his son into a weapon—just not one he could control anymore.

A faint whistle echoed down the shaft—our signal.

Together we climbed toward the light.