Page 24

KAIA

T he night cuts cold against my skin as I move, my boots scraping the crumbling concrete with every step.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

No, that’s a lie.

I know exactly what the hell I’m doing.

I’m going back to him.

Back to the one person who makes me feel like I’m losing my mind and finding it all at once.

I curse under my breath, yanking my jacket tighter around me. The leather feels too thin. Everything feels too thin. Like the whole world’s paper over glass, one wrong move from shattering.

I can still feel him.

His hands. His mouth. His goddamn presence branded into my skin like wildfire.

And Gods help me, I want it. I want him.

Even though I shouldn’t.

Even though I barely know him.

I spent a week snapping and snarling at him, fighting the pull like a damn fool. Dreaming about him in ways that made my cheeks burn and my fists clench. Wanting more when all I was supposed to want was distance.

And then, I gave in.

No control. No thinking. Just instinct and heat and this desperate, aching need that had been building between us like a thunderstorm.

And what did I do after?

I ran.

Like a damn coward.

“Pathetic,” I mutter, kicking a loose stone down the alleyway.

But I can’t go back to the Order. Not now. Not after what I saw in the rubble. Not after that hidden lab—the screams, the cages, the truth I hadn't even realized was rotting under my feet this whole time.

And Elias, he knew.

He said he knew more. He said there were things I needed to understand. And for once, I’m not content to just nod and follow orders like a good little soldier.

I need to know.

I find the safehouse by feel more than sight, slipping past the old wards he laid like a second skin around the place. The door creaks when I push it open, the scent of old smoke and blood and something achingly familiar wrapping around me.

He's here.

I can feel him.

I find him in the back room, crouched over a spread of old maps and ledgers lit by a single grimy lamp. His black hair falls in a messy curtain around his face, and his jaw is locked tight.

Elias looks up the second I cross the threshold, and for a moment, we just... stare.

The air between us snaps taut, electric. Memories of skin and teeth and whispered curses flaring hot and sharp between us.

"You ran," he says, voice low and rough.

"Yeah," I bite out. "I did."

Silence stretches. He doesn't move. Doesn't blink.

I shove my hands into my pockets, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped thing.

"I’m not here to... pick up where we left off," I say, even though every nerve in my body is screaming for the opposite. "I’m here because you said you knew things. About me. About them. About the lab."

His expression darkens.

"I need to know," I say, stepping closer, voice shaking but steady. "No more cryptic bullshit. No more half-truths. And no more training until I do. Tell me, Elias."

He leans back slowly, studying me like he’s deciding whether to trust me with a loaded gun.

"You’re not gonna like it," he mutters.

"Too late for that," I snap.

Another beat of tension.

Then he sighs, long and broken, and reaches under the table. He pulls out a battered leather folder, the edges frayed and stained.

"This," he says, tossing it onto the table, "is your father's legacy."

I stare down at the folder like it’s a coiled snake. My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat.

With shaking hands, I open it.

Schematics. Bloodwork. Names. Trials.

Project: Bloodbound.

My blood turns to ice.

Tarek Vorn—subject T-001.

Hybrid conditioning. Serum manipulation. Binding.

My father.

The man who taught me to fear monsters, to kill anything that wasn’t pure-blood human.

He’s been trying to enslave them. Not just enslave tem, but be able to use them as science projects to weaponize their powers. Enslave people like Elias.

No.

Not just like Elias.

People like me.

The world tilts.

"You're lying," I rasp.

Elias doesn’t flinch. "I wish I was."

I squeeze my eyes shut, clutching the folder so tight it creaks.

"I didn't know," I whisper. "I didn't know any of this."

"I know," he says. "That's why you're still breathing."

The accusation stings, even if it’s deserved.

I force myself to meet his gaze. His cold blue eyes are hard, but there's something else underneath. Something broken.

"I’m not them," I say fiercely.

"I know," he says again, softer this time.

“You were there? They did things like this to you?” I ask before I can stop myself. I knew my father had turned cold after my uncle died, but this?

Before he can answer, the windows explode inward.

I hit the ground instinctively, ears ringing, vision full of smoke and glass. Elias moves like a phantom, yanking me behind the overturned table as shadows pour through the breach.

Black armor. Crimson insignias.

Gideon's Torch.

Elite Order hunters.

Fucking legends.

And they’re here for him.

“Where you followed?” he snaps in a harsh whisper.

“No! You think I’m that stupid? What about your wards?”

“Obviously, they’re compromised,” he hisses back.

"Elias Vorn!" a voice booms through the wreckage. "By the authority of the Order, you are hereby sentenced to death! We know what you are and we know what you did!”

Elias bares his teeth in a snarl, eyes flashing molten gold.

"Well," he mutters, flexing his hands as his claws slide free, "looks like they finally sent the welcome wagon."

I scramble to my feet, grabbing the dagger at my belt.

"I'm not letting them take you," I snap.

He flashes me a feral grin, blood and fury written across every sharp angle of his face.

"Good," he says. "Because I’m not fucking going anywhere."

The first soldier charges.