Page 37

KAIA

I ’m done running.

The thought isn’t just a whisper this time—it’s a fucking war drum, hammering through my veins as I shove open the rusted iron doors.

The abandoned hall yawns in front of me, all cracked stone and stale air, the bones of a place long since bled dry of hope. Figures. Perfect place for a man like him to rot.

But he’s not rotting. Not yet.

Jareth Draven stands at the far end of the room, as rigid and commanding as ever. The only difference is the thing gnawing behind his eyes—something colder than the Order ever trained into him.

The man who raised me.

The man who made me.

The man who’s about to break me.

Elias’s hand grazes the small of my back—steady, grounding—and then it’s gone, leaving behind the phantom heat of his touch as I step fully inside alone. His presence stays though, a hum against my senses, fierce and ready to tear the world apart if I call.

But this... this I have to face myself.

Jareth turns as I approach, hands folded neatly behind his back, the perfect goddamn soldier. His mouth twists into something almost resembling a smile, but it’s nothing but a blade.

"Kaia," he says, voice smooth, cold. "I wondered when you’d come crawling back."

I don’t flinch. Won’t give him that.

"You sound almost disappointed," I say, voice sharper than I feel.

He lets out a dry, joyless chuckle. "Disappointed?" His gaze rakes over me, clinical. Dissecting. "You have no idea."

I keep moving, step by step, boots scraping across stone. My fingers twist the silver ring my mother gave me, the metal grounding me when everything else wants to splinter apart.

"You’re not surprised I’m alive."

"No," he says simply. "After your mother’s little show—and exposing herself for the traitorous fae whore she is—I figured you’d be lurking somewhere. Hiding. Ashamed of what you are."

His words slam into me like fists, but I don't stop. I can't.

"I’m not hiding," I say, voice steady even when my heart’s shattering in my chest. "I’m here to end this."

He actually laughs—a short, broken sound. "End it? You think this is about you , little girl?"

He gestures lazily toward the altar—toward the machine thrumming in the center of the room, veins of sickly golden light pulsing over it like a heartbeat.

"The Purifier," he says with reverence. "The end of monsters. The beginning of a clean, pure world."

I stop a few feet away, feeling that death pulse crawling over my skin like rot. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I lock my knees and stay standing.

"And you were just going to wipe me out too, huh?" I whisper.

He stares at me, something almost... disappointed curling his mouth.

"I had such high hopes for you," Jareth says, voice low and lethal. "You were supposed to be the answer. The one good thing to come out of this cursed world. Proof that we could be better."

I clench my fists so tight my nails bite into my palms. "But I’m not."

"No." His voice hardens, flat and merciless. "You’re not. You’re a goddamn abomination. Just like her."

I flinch, the word hitting deeper than any blade ever could.

"You should have had the decency to see it for yourself. To end it before it came to this. If you had any self-respect—if you still gave a damn about the Order, about me —you’d help me finish this." He sneers. "Or you’d end it yourself. Save us the trouble."

His eyes gleam with something cruel and triumphant.

"And take that hybrid filth you’ve been spreading your legs for with you."

My breath catches in my throat, a strangled noise of hurt and rage.

He knows. About Elias. About everything.

And he doesn’t care.

He never cared.

All those years, all those memories, scraped clean away with a few venomous words.

"You knew," I choke out. "You knew what I was. You trained me anyway. You lied to me my whole life."

"You were useful," he says without a flicker of shame. "Until you weren’t."

My stomach lurches. The man standing in front of me isn't my father anymore. He’s something hollow. Something hateful. Something dead .

And I almost stepped right into his trap.

My eyes flick down—catching the faint shimmer of a containment glyph etched into the floor, just a hairsbreadth from where I stand.

He’s been stalling. Waiting. Playing me like he always did.

Not this time.

The heartbreak curdles into rage, hot and wild, pouring out of me in a blinding surge. Golden light explodes from my skin, ripping through the snare, shattering the runes with a crack like breaking bones.

Jareth reels back, stunned for a blink—but that’s all I need.

"You should’ve killed me when you had the chance," I snarl, my voice not even sounding human anymore.

I pivot, shoving the heavy doors open with a scream of rusted hinges—and Elias is already there, storm-eyed and furious, his whole body a weapon aimed at anyone who’d dare try to hurt me.

He catches my wrist, anchoring me, pulling me close as we run.

Gunfire. Magic bolts. Screams.

I barely hear it. All I can feel is the ache in my chest, the part of me that still wanted to believe maybe, just maybe, he could be redeemed.

Stupid.

Stupid and over.

We sprint through the wreckage, ducking through debris, heartbeats syncing like a war drum. We don't stop until the forest swallows us whole.

And when we do— When I collapse to my knees, gasping, hands shaking— Elias drops beside me, his arms wrapping around me before I can fall apart.

"I’m sorry," I choke out against his chest. "God, Elias, I’m so fucking sorry."

"For what?" he growls into my hair. "For surviving? For seeing the truth?"

Tears burn behind my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not yet.

"He’s gone," I whisper. "The man who raised me... he’s gone."

Elias pulls back just enough to catch my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You still have a choice, Kaia," he says fiercely. "You always have a choice. You’re not him. You’re not them. "

I swallow hard, my hands gripping the front of his jacket like a lifeline.

"And you’re not alone," he adds, voice breaking low and raw.

I close my eyes, pressing my forehead to his.

"No," I breathe. "Not anymore."