Page 20

ELIAS

T he smoke’s thick enough to drown in.

I shove aside another chunk of broken concrete with a growl, boots slipping on ash-slick floors, scanning the ruins like the gods themselves whispered my name and demanded payment in blood.

The Vault's gone.

Good.

But it doesn’t feel like a fucking victory.

Not when I see the bodies.

Supernaturals—shifters, witches, fae-bloods—crushed or burned or already half-dead before the explosion finished the job. My stomach churns as I step over a charred body, the smell of cooked flesh punching me straight in the goddamn gut.

I know that this was a mercy kill. I was here once and I know exactly what was happening in this section of the lab. This was kind in turn to what they were doing to us. But still…

I clench my jaw. Force myself to keep moving.

Because somewhere in this hell, she's here.

Kaia.

And if she’s still alive...

I find her in the east corridor, she looks like she dragged herself over to another, her body now free of debris but it’s now limp, her thick black hair loose and tangled across her bloodied face.

My chest tightens, something feral clawing up my spine.

I drop to my knees, shoving the rest of the debris off her, ignoring the way my hands shake. And when I finally see her—her skin shimmering faintly, light pulsing under the surface in patterns I recognize like a fucking brand on my soul.

I freeze.

Because there's no mistaking it now.

She's not human.

Not just human.

Golden markings ghost over her arms, faint but there, like vines laced with ancient starlight. Her pulse beats against my fingertips, strong and defiant, and my throat tightens when I realize, she's Fae.

Half-Fae.

The prophecy... shit.

I mutter to myself as I start brushing blood-matted curls from her forehead.

Sirens wail in the distance, Order reinforcements, no doubt scrambling to contain the chaos—and my instincts scream at me to run.

But I can't leave her.

Not like this. Not glowing with untrained magic and half-conscious, ripe for anyone to see and report.

If they catch her like this? She’s dead. Or worse.

I swear viciously under my breath and scoop her up into my arms.

She’s lighter than she looks. Strong muscles built from years of Order training, but right now, she’s just soft, limp weight against my chest. Trusting me without even knowing it.

Fuck, this is a mistake.

I should leave her. I should disappear and let her crawl back to her perfect little Order world and forget about me.

But something deeper than logic grips me by the throat.

I can’t.

Not with her blood humming like a livewire against my own.

Not when I’ve seen what she can become.

Not when she might be the only goddamn chance we have left.

I move fast, ducking through the smoke and shadows, keeping low as guards swarm the edges of the compound like angry ants. Most of them too busy screaming into radios or trying to pull survivors from the wreckage to notice me.

But it’s a fucking miracle I make it out with her and the kid.

Yeah, the kid.

The one she saved.

The tiny shifter is tucked into my jacket, barely breathing, eyes wide with shellshock. I managed to dig him out while the smoke was still thick enough to hide me. Found two others too, a witch and a dryad, both battered but alive.

Most?

Most didn’t make it.

And I’ll carry their fucking screams with me for the rest of my miserable life.

I stash the rescued survivors with a contact I trust, deep in the ruined parts of the city, before hauling ass back to my place.

My safehouse is little more than a collapsed train station half-buried under vines and abandoned graffiti. But it's secluded. Ward-runed to hell and back. And right now, it’s the only place where she won’t be found.

I kick the door shut behind me and carry Kaia into the back room, laying her gently on the old cot shoved in the corner. She stirs, a soft whimper escaping her lips, and that thing inside me —the part I try to strangle into silence every goddamn day—roars to life.

Protect.

Keep.

Mine.

I shove the thoughts down, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw pops.

Not mine. Not fucking mine.

When she wakes up, she’s going to kill me.

Or worse, she’ll go back to the Order and hand me over herself.

Still, I sit there, watching her breathe, until the glow under her skin fades and the markings slip away like mist.

When she finally comes to, blinking groggily at the cracked ceiling, I’m already crouched beside her.

Her golden-amber eyes snap to me.

Wide. Confused. Fierce.

"Where the fuck—" she croaks.

I offer her a battered tin cup of water. "Relax. You’re safe."

She shoves herself upright, groaning. "Safe? Safe? You kidnapped me!"

I smirk, dry and humorless. "Saved your ass, actually. Could’ve left you to the fucking Order. They would’ve loved the little light show you put on."

She freezes, suspicion flooding her face.

Good.

She should be scared.

"Why am I here?" she demands.

I lean back on my heels, studying her. "Because you’d be dead otherwise. Or worse."

"And you care because...?"

I shrug. "I don’t. Not really."

A lie.

A terrible one.

But she lets it slide for now.

"You need training," I say, voice low. "You’re leaking power like a cracked dam. Next time it flares like that, they’re gonna notice. And you won’t just get a slap on the wrist. You’ll disappear."

She swallows, hard. Her hand drifts unconsciously over the faint place where the markings once shimmered.

"You’re not what you think you are," I add, softer now. "And the Order sure as hell isn’t what they told you."

She glares at me, stubborn to the core. "And you think you know better?"

"No." I stand, pacing, restless. "I know better. I've seen what they do to people like you. And trust me, sweetheart—you don't want to end up on one of their goddamn tables. Have you really never been to that part of the lab?"

Her fists clench in the threadbare blanket. "You don't even know me."

"Maybe not," I say. "But I know enough."

I meet her gaze, hard and unflinching.

"I’m giving you a choice. Stay. Train. Live. Learn what they tried to bury and why they’re keeping it from you, someone who works for them. Or go back. Back to the Order. Back to lies."

She hesitates.

Just for a breath.

But it’s enough.

"Why me?" she whispers.

I hesitate. The truth burns my tongue.

Because of the prophecy. Because you’re the key to everything. Because without you, the world might not fucking survive apparently.

But I just say, "Because you deserve the truth."

Silence stretches between us.