Page 46

46

CALLUM

I wake choking on smoke and fire that doesn’t exist. Yet.

The vision lingers sharp and cruel.

Adora, her silhouette framed in red-gold light, standing over Kendall. Her hands glowed with something ancient, magic not meant for skin or bone. Kendall didn’t move. She was still. Too still.

And Adora?

She was smiling .

I’m on my feet before I register the shift in the light outside. It’s still dark—just before dawn—but there’s a surge in the air that makes my skin crawl.

“Shit,” I mutter, grabbing for my boots.

Elias stumbles into the hall at the same time I do, shirt half on, eyes wide.

“You felt it too?” he asks.

“Vision,” I snap. “Adora. Hollowed.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Where’s Kendall?”

We sprint.

The main safehouse is silent when we get there—too silent. No fire burning, no chatter, no breakfast pots clanging.

My stomach twists.

“Kendall?” I call out.

No answer.

Elias moves faster, checking the tents, the outer patrol line. I race for her quarters. Empty. Just her scent lingering. Warm and steady. But something else layered over it.

Adora.

I press two fingers to the center of the cot where Kendall slept. The heat is gone, but the residual power isn’t.

“She was here,” I mutter. “So was Adora.”

Elias reappears, breathless. “Found a trail. Light. She didn’t take supplies.”

“She left willingly.”

“But with what intention?”

I look at him. And we both know.

Adora didn’t run. She answered a call. And Kendall might be walking right into it.

We don’t get a chance to track them before the alarm blows.

A sharp, high whistle—cut off halfway.

Then the roar. And fire.

The first explosion rips through the northern watch post, lighting the forest edge in a sickening orange glow.

Elias draws his blade. “They found us.”

I shift mid-sprint, leaping into the trees as my pack moves to intercept. I howl once—loud and long.

The rest follow.

Kendall appears on the far side of the line, eyes locked on the flames. Part of me is relieved to see her still here. That she didn’t follow her sister.

“You saw it too,” she says when we meet mid-charge.

“Adora’s gone.”

Her jaw tightens. “I know.”

“We finish this,” I say.

“Together.”

We crash through the front line, both now fully shifted, just as the Brood breaks through the trees—feral and armed, some twisted by blood magic, some just hungry to kill. But they rush right passed us and join our flanks. No collision to overtake us to get to Kendall. They’re out for blood. Human blood and for the moment, I’ll take it.

When we all see them rushing past us to Gideon’s Torch that’s cresting the other side, emboldened. Armed with weapons blessed by gods they don’t understand, We run with them and go for the humans who are trying to eradicate us all. Then, our focus can shift to each other– If need be

We meet the army of humans head-on.

The first wave hits hard.

I take down three before I realize my shoulder’s bleeding. A blade slipped past my guard, but I don’t stop moving.

Kendall’s beside me, fast and brutal, her claws catching the edge of a Brood soldier’s throat before he can raise his blade. Her eyes glow bright and sharp—like moonlight turned to fire.

“Behind you!” I shout.

She twists, drops low, and the second attacker never gets back up. We move like instinct. Like one body.

Every time I falter, she’s there. Every time she stumbles, I catch her. There’s no space between our movements. Just rhythm and rage and something hotter than either.

We don’t speak. We feel .

It doesn’t feel like hours, but it is.

The battle pushes into the edge of the ravine where we’d planned the fallback point. Witches are holding a line with flame wards, dragons circling overhead.

Suddenly, I realize something watching the Brood. They’re not here to win. They’re here to distract.

Before I can understand why they would do that, Elias reaches us, bloody and wild-eyed. “Something’s happening at the old ward gate!”

Kendall’s eyes go wide.

“Adora,” she says.

I nod.

“She’s not running from the Hollowed,” I say. “She’s inviting it.”

Kendall staggers back. “No. She wouldn’t—she’s not?—”

“She’s hurting, ” I say, softer. “And she’s angry. They twisted that pain. Used it.”

Kendall’s hand trembles in mine.

“I should’ve?—”

“Don’t,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers. “You loved her. You tried. That’s not on you.”

“She’s my sister.”

“And we’ll save her. Or stop her.”

She nods. But I see it in her eyes. This won’t end without more loss. And she’s already mourning it.

We pull back with the survivors as fire continues to scorch the north line. The Brood falls back with it, not chasing—because they’re already moving to the real prize.

Whatever Adora’s become… She’s not waiting anymore. And neither are we.

We gather what’s left of our forces. I feel the eyes on me. Shifters. Wolves. Witches. They look to me now.

But I look at her.

At Kendall.

Because this isn’t just my war. It’s ours. And we’re going to finish it. Together.