Page 42

Riley

F ire crackled in the distance. It was low. Hungry. A growl that wrapped around Monterey Compound with deafening ferocity. Heat rolled in waves, twisting in the air, the trees shimmering in smoke and steam. Our fire fields stretched out for ten miles of carefully laid defense. Pansies writhed against the chains, the muted sound a juxtaposition to the groans of the dying sprawled across the surrounding field. Knowing there was someone in there, trapped beyond reach, now used as a weapon, was as horrific as it was brilliant.

Us versus them. That’s what I had to remind myself. And anyone that wasn’t us was considered them .

Pansies, Ronan, Fresno, and anyone else out there who dared tried to take our home, our lives. Our set up was a nightmare for anyone trying to breach us—but it wasn’t impossible. Not with time. Not with resources and numbers. All of which Covert Province possessed. And yet, Ronan was pulling back.

“Troops are gone,” Abel muttered beside me. His Plasma blade hung loosely in his grip, eyes distant as he stared at the blown up scramble of body parts at our feet. “Snipers confirm they’ve retreated from North Gate.”

I scanned the tree line through my binoculars, but all I saw were the bones of the forest, twisted and blackened from flame. No shadows darting. No troops pressing the perimeter. Pushing my magic out, I searched through the whispers of nature that whispered to me. Nothing.

Covert had not only fled, they’d disappeared before our eyes.

“Why the hell would he pull back?” I growled.

“Emissaries are gone too,” Abel added, quieter this time. “They left with the troops.”

That stopped me cold. How? All gates but one were sealed shut behind layers and layers of concrete. The only way out was through destruction or through the East Gate—easiest to control access through and heavily guarded. And during this battle, twenty-five soldiers had been stationed on both sides. Wired from base to the top, the only way that gate could open is after it’d been disarmed. I turned to him sharply, heart thudding in my chest. “All of them?”

Abel nodded. “Every single one.”

Something’s wrong . Covert had lost as many soldiers as we had in this battle. A small number in the grand scheme—despite the weight of having to tell their loved ones had on my soul. They were my soldiers, my responsibility. The fire fields, the chained Pansies, the layered tunnels—they were all solid defenses. But Ronan would never retreat out of mercy. If he wasn’t attacking, it meant he was recalibrating.

We’d played our entire hand, and Covert Province had only just begun.

I glanced up toward the watchtowers. The snipers were silhouettes against the darkening sky, their scopes glinting faintly as they tracked the nothingness. Beyond them, Finley’s shields flickered—shimmering with the fragile sheen of glass. Good for its purpose. Worthless against what I suspected was coming.

“Send a rider out,” I said, my heart pounding with fear. “Get word to Amaia. I want her back here. Now.”

Abel kept his composure, but I saw his tell. The one the other soldiers would never recognize as anything more than the twitch of a hand that had fired far too many rounds in one given day. “You think they’re going after her?”

“I think Ronan doesn’t do anything without a reason.”

Abel nodded grimly and took off toward the comms tent, shouting for a runner.

I let my gaze drift across the perimeter as the aftermath of battle hummed around me. The nearest trench squad pushed themselves free, hands glowing faintly with magic as they reinforced the ground. A patrol in sleek black moved through the smoke—shadows of death scanning for heat signatures. Tech from our labs. Work of the best Tinkerers Salem could find. One of the few advantages we still had.

And yet it still didn’t feel like enough.

Turning toward the cliffside, my eyes closed as a wave of calm washed over me. Everything will work out. They’re going to be okay . My eyes readjusted to the streak of light peeking through a cloud. It was evening, and a storm was brewing. Had rolled in minutes after the battle ended, and the scene was violent. We needed to gather our injured and get back behind the relative safety of our walls.

The horizon darkened as jagged shadows emerged from the mist, drifting into the bay. Ships. Massive ones. Battleships from The Before—reinforced with Covert’s magic and tech. Their hulls gleamed in the dim light.

“Tell me I’m seeing shit,” Abel said as he reappeared at my side.

“You’re not.”

Abel swiped his thumb across his brow, removing a speck of dirt. “Can’t you please lie for two seconds?”

The crack of cannon fire echoed over the water, deep and rhythmic—tsunami waves breaking on the ground.

Our navy scrambled to intercept. Monterey’s Navy was equipped to take on pirates, guard the coastline—we were smaller, faster, but painfully outdated. Outside of the Coast Guard cutters we’d taken, or the previously decommissioned USS Monterey, we were powered entirely by civilian vessels; fishing trawlers, yachts, ferries, and tugboats. We pushed forward and returned fire in quick bursts of smoke and flame. They held the line as best they could, but it was as harrowing as watching sparrows dive at hawks.

“We don’t stand a chance against that,” Abel watched the carnage unfold before us, other soldiers falling in close behind us looking helplessly on.

He was right. Ronan’s ships weren’t simply bigger—they were powered with magic. The energy rolling off them was palpable from here. Blue fire churned along their decks. Waves bucked and surged unnaturally, propelling them forward with impossible speed. Running over our smaller vessels as though they were nothing but a buoy in their way.

“Watch the water,” I told them. “It’s not just ships.”

Streaks of white burst from below—jets of high-pressure water that cut through the air with harpoon-force precision. Helpless. We stared on helplessly, forced to watch as they sliced through our weaker vessels. A smaller ship split in half only to be swallowed by a churning wave in seconds.

“Land defense status?” I shouted to the captain sprinting up to us with a comms note in hand.

“Already firing but not slowing,” he said breathlessly. “Our rounds are getting redirected. It’s like they have shields too.”

Jesus. Ronan had planned for this—wore us down, then went for our weakest point while we recovered.

I turned back to The Compound. “Get everyone on the shoreline—rifle squads, fire-binders, whatever we’ve got. I want trenches reinforced, bunkers sealed, and snipers positioned. If they make land, they’ll enter through The Docks. We are not prepared for that scenario to become a reality, am I clear?”

The captain nodded and bolted, his boots pounding against the dirt.

Abel scanned the scene again, “We can’t hold this, Riley.”

I didn’t argue. In the past fifteen minutes, we’d lost half our ships docked in the bay. Fire bloomed across the water, engulfing our crumbling navy. The roar of cannon fire and magic mixed with the screams of the wounded and drowning.

“I know,” I said. “Let’s go. We say our prayers as we make our way down to help.”

We locked in to start our repel when shouts rang out. Miller’s yell cut through the chaos, asking us to hold. A group of soldiers pulled along several girls around Elie’s age. What the hell are they doing out on the battlefield? As we’d set up in preparation, any stragglers outside our gates had headed anywhere but here. Miller jerked her chin at me, her taught bun fried off at the base. They’d obviously been through hell holding their position.

“Sir, we found ‘em out on the battlefield. They claim they can help.”

One of the girls stepped forward, older than the others. Her warm brown skin and frame swallowed by a shirt that was familiar. Standard issued. One of ours . My hand fell to my holster and Abel followed suit, sheathing his sword into a reinforced scabbard with a quick-release mechanism, custom-fitted to his right side. It allowed him to draw with ease despite the loss of use in his left hand.

“Alexiares helped us.”

“We have a debt to pay,” added another, a small brunette.

I stared at them, hand falling at my side. Alexiares? Not the Bloodhound . The man had one hell of a reputation, yet they spoke his name as though he was a savior.

Ronan’s navy was minutes out from shore. We were outgunned, outmatched, and frankly, desperate. I glanced back at Abel who gave me a nod.

“Fine,” I said. What other option did we have? “What do you need?”

The older girl turned toward the brunette, “Denver.”

‘Denver’ strode to the edge of the cliff without hesitation. I frowned, following her movements, “What is she?—”

Then she moved her hands.

Wind whipped violently around her, funneling into a tight spiral that rose from the ocean in the fashion of a vengeful spirit. A tornado.

Abel cursed. “What the hell .”

“A little assistance here please, Austin!” Denver called, her voice strained.

Another girl moved forward—this one with softer features and a determined glare from hell. She raised her hands at Denver’s side. The dark clouds above us churned with thunder.

The two girls worked in tandem as we watched on in awe. The tornado became a monstrous lightning fed vortex. Bolts of lightning crackled and twisted through the spiral. Covert’s massive battleships buckled and splintered under its wrath. Soldiers flailed in the water with panic, abandoning what remained of their ship and swimming for shore.

But something else shifted in the water. A sick feeling curled its way through my stomach as I saw it. Sharks. Dozens of them. The rocks along the cliffside came alive, seals splashing into the water and darting through the wreckage. They attacked, tearing through Ronan’s troops in a frenzy. All of them.

I turned, heart hammering in my ears. The oldest stood completely still, her gaze locked on the carnage. Not watching, commanding . Her eyes burned with an intensity I’d only seen in battle-hardened veterans. A lack of mercy issued to enemies who’d thought themselves unstoppable.

She blinked once, breaking out of her trance. “It feels good to use our magic again,” she said calmly. When her gaze met mine, her expression softened. “Is our group truly here?”

“Your group?” I repeated.

“Hunter’s people,” she clarified. “I suppose that’s what you’d know them as. Alexiares said they were here. I would like to see them.”

“Is he …?” Abel asked, concern etched on the lines of his skin.

The oldest offered a slight nod. “Alive and headed for your general. Our group? Take us to them.”

Hunter’s people. That explained the power simmering off them. When he’d mentioned he had numbers with extraordinary blessings, he wasn’t lying. My gut told me there was more to all of this than any of them let on. I couldn’t trust it—not yet. Magic like that didn’t come without a price. It couldn’t. We’d used spells and science to get even half of what they possessed.

“Of course,” I said smoothly, hating the taste of the lie. I valued honesty, but it was earned over time, not given out right. “Help them,” I ordered Miller. “On your way in, have Barnes see that the stragglers in the water are finished off. No prisoners. There’s only about a hundred left—it should be more than manageable.”

“Don’t dispose of the bodies.”

The quietest of them all spoke in a breath, barely enough to catch. I turned to her, “I’m sorry?”

Memphis edged closer, the discomfort from the proximity of our bodies radiated off her as she winced back. “She needs them. Sedona is a siphon healer.”

There was a beat of silence as Miller and I shared a glance—her face twisted with confusion, mine probably not far off. I cleared my throat. I had no interest in giving orders I didn’t understand.

“Most healers,” Memphis explained, “draw their power from water. Hunter, for example.”

I gave her a slow nod, piecing it together best I could. Miller appeared less convinced, muttering something along the lines of what does that even mean?

“But her power,” Memphis continued, with a small tilt of her head toward the girl. “Feeds on the magic of others—preferably the dead before their energy fades completely. It’s … more comfortable that way.”

Sedona didn’t look very comfortable to me. She looked like she spent a lot of time with the dead.

“Oh, Reina would’ve had a field day with this lot,” Miller chided slyly to herself.

Denver’s face flashed with interest as she stepped closer. “Reina Moore? I’m shocked.”

There was no indication of that being true with the skepticism laced in her tone. I flicked the tip of my nose and sighed, giving Miller the nod of approval to carry out the orders.

Miller nodded sharply, already turning to bark orders at the others. I kept my attention on the oldest girl, but something shifted. Her focus shifted, moving past my shoulder to the others.

I followed her gaze.

This one was far younger than the others—younger than Elie but older than Emma—her face ringed with dark blue circles. Her eyes were hollow, like someone who’d seen too much and didn’t have the desire to ever forget the tragedies of life. The oldest turned her body, circling me to put the girl out of sight and tucked behind her. Protective in a way that set something uneasy in my gut.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Memphis,” she replied. “That’s Eden,” she nodded toward her.

Eden’s steel colored eyes were unsettling as they flickered to me, hard, sharp, and unreadable. I turned back to Memphis. “How did you say Alexiares helped you out again?”

“We didn’t,” she leveled. “We owed him a favor. I had hoped to be able to see my family. He offered us safe harbor. However, is it a correct assumption to say once we cross through those gates we won’t be allowed out?”

I sighed, “That is correct. Yes.”

Memphis nodded solemnly, her hands trembling as she clenched and unclenched, stuck in a pattern. My gaze drifted to the soldiers who’d accompanied Miller. They were all women.

It sent a pang through my chest.

Memphis straightened again, her voice quieter now. “Eden is thankful for your honesty,” she said, nodding back to the one with the hollowed out eyes. “The taste of lies is rather repulsive to her.”

Eden blinked at me. The girls gathered around her, nodding in unison before they turned to leave as abruptly as they arrived.

“Thank you. All of you,” I called after them. Keeping them out seemed right, but sending young women into this world alone was a neglect of the authority I wielded. “If I were to let you enter, we could not let you leave until this war is over. A security risk. I hope you understand.”

Memphis paused then glanced over her shoulder at me with an unreadable expression. Eden stiffened, her head shifting toward Memphis who awaited her confirmation. She offered a small tick of her head.

“At least let us get you some food, weapons. A change of clothes,” I said.

Denver and Memphis barely moved, but something passed between them—silent, decided.

“Okay,” Denver agreed.

“Abel,” I called, the single word clipped and sharp, enough to carry the weight of the order.

“Already on it,” he replied, moving swiftly, his boots scuffing against the debris-strewn ground.

Memphis broke from the group, her steps deliberate as she made her way to my side, settling into the spot Abel had vacated seconds ago. She didn’t look at me. “You’re not ready for what’s coming,” she said softly.

“We know.”