Page 32

ELIAS

K aia’s mom kneels next to Tarek’s crumpled body, brushing sweat-slicked hair from his bruised forehead. She’s all bone and desperation, her Fae aura so thin it’s barely a shimmer now.

She looks up at me, those tired gold-flecked eyes meeting mine without flinching. Her voice is rough but steady. “Your father needs to disappear. I know a place. Safe. Ward-shielded. Old magic.”

I clench my fists so hard my claws bite through skin. My blood runs hot, my heart pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

Kaia’s gone.

Gone without a goddamn word except the look in her eyes that said I can't do this anymore .

She didn’t give me a choice. Didn’t stay to fight. Didn’t even stay to talk .

And now I’m standing here, with the ghost of the woman who hid Kaia’s whole damn life from her, promising she’ll tuck my broken father away like a wounded bird.

I laugh, low and mean. It sounds like it’s coming from someone else’s mouth.

She flinches.

“Fine,” I rasp, shoving a bloodied hand through my hair. “Take him. Get him the hell out of here. Just don’t fuck it up.”

Her mouth tightens, but she nods. No argument. No retort.

Smart woman.

I barely remember helping lift my father’s limp body onto a stretcher of magic and willpower. I barely remember the soft words she murmurs to Tarek, or the way she presses something into my hand—coordinates, maybe, or a blood-tether spell.

All I can think about is her .

Kaia.

Running from me like I’m the damn monster she’s been trained her whole life to fear.

Maybe I am.

Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be.

The forest closes around me, thick and black and heavy with the scent of moss and rot.

I hunt.

I tear through the underbrush, my boots slick with mud and old blood. I don’t think. Don’t feel .

I just move .

The first idiot who tries to rob me in the woods gets a broken wrist for his trouble. The second gets a shattered jaw. I don't even shift fully—just enough that my strength snaps bones like twigs.

And when the third one, a scraggly bastard with desperation bleeding off him like cheap cologne—pulls a knife and lunges?

I grab him by the throat.

Slam him into the nearest tree.

His pulse hammers under my fingers.

Fast.

Terrified.

Alive.

Alive only because I let him .

The scent of his blood, salt and copper and life—fills my mouth, my head, my whole fucking soul .

I could take him. Right now. Tear into his throat and drink deep and forget that I ever cared about anything.

Forget her .

My fangs snap down with a painful click.

The man whimpers, a sound like a dying animal.

And for a second, I almost let go.

Almost let the rage win.

Almost become everything the Order said I was.

A monster.

A goddamn tragedy in a pretty skin.

Golden eyes flash in my mind.

Not the pleading, broken ones from the prison.

No.

The ones that stared down my mother’s magic without blinking.

The ones that burned when she said, I'm stronger than I look.

The ones that said fight for me without ever saying a goddamn word.

I shove the man away so hard he crumples to the ground gasping.

I stagger back, hands shaking, teeth grinding against the need still burning in my veins.

“Run,” I snarl.

The man scrambles away like a kicked dog.

Good.

Because if he stayed another second, I might not have been able to stop myself.

I sink to my knees in the mud, fists buried in the earth like it's the only thing tethering me here.

"You’re better off without me," I growl into the empty dark. "You were right , Kaia."

I can’t protect her.

I can’t even protect myself.

How the hell am I supposed to stand beside her when everything inside me is built to ruin ?

When every time I get close to someone, they die, or break, or run?

I claw a hand across my face, dragging mud and blood down my skin like war paint.

I breathe in her scent, still clinging to me like a fucking curse.

Jasmine. Steel. Storms.

It hurts worse than any wound.

I sit there until the sun starts bleeding through the trees, until my body aches and my head pounds and my chest feels carved out and hollow.

And then, I drag myself up and stagger toward the shadows.

Toward the dark that’s been calling me since the moment she left.

Because maybe she was right.

Maybe this is better.

Maybe this is what monsters deserve.