Page 31

31

JACKSON

I t happens at 3:14 in the morning.

I know because I was awake—half-naked, lying in Seraphine’s bed, scrolling through encrypted messages, and trying not to think about the way her leg was pressed to mine like she belonged there.

And then the explosion hit.

Not close. Not here. But big enough that we felt it even from miles away—the ground shivering like it wanted to whisper something terrible into our bones.

Seraphine sat bolt upright, eyes already glowing faintly in the dark. “That wasn’t a storm.”

My phone rang before I could answer.

PEACE’s emergency channel. Static, then a voice I didn’t recognize: “Code nine. Repeat, code nine. PEACE Safehouse Alpha-Seven is gone. No survivors confirmed yet. Suspected magical ordinance—signature matches Typhon’s Brood. Coordinates locked. Immediate lockdown in effect.”

And just like that.

The war we’ve been trying to stop for months, starts.

The safehouse was empty, thank God.

A lucky fluke.

One of the squads had rotated out early, shift change gone late, whatever it was—it saved their lives.

But the message was clear. This wasn’t a hit.mThis was a warning. A fuck-you with fire and bone and shattered stone.

I stand in the smoking crater of what used to be one of our best-kept secrets and feel the edges of the world tilt.

PEACE agents are swarming. Medics. Witches running scans. Drones overhead. Everyone talking too fast, shouting over each other.

Seraphine stands beside me, arms folded, shadows flickering under her skin.

“They want us rattled,” she says. “They want the world to see the damage.”

“They’re not subtle.”

“No,” she says, voice cold. “They’re not stupid, either.”

The flames are out, but the damage is a damn mural—gutted steel, scorched earth, the runes along the perimeter walls turned inside out like someone mocked our magic before tearing it open.

“They knew the shield frequency,” I murmur. “This wasn’t just a brute-force attack.”

She nods. “It was a message.”

“And the message?”

“We see you. We’re coming.”

By noon, it’s everywhere.

Leaked footage from the explosion. Screenshots of us standing in the rubble. The declaration from Typhon’s Brood, scrawled in blood-red glyphs across every supernatural news feed.

“Let the flames cleanse the weak. The bitch and the human will burn first.”

Subtle.

By three, small skirmishes erupt across downtown—Fae and PEACE agents clashing near the riverfront. A vampire clan ambushed by street-level militia. A couple of dumbass humans get caught trying to light a rune circle on fire and get ripped in half by a troll before anyone can stop it.

And then it’s just… war.

Like a match finally dropped into a puddle of gasoline we’ve been wading through carefully since we have been put on this case. One that the whole world has been trying to avoid since the Veil officially fell.

There’s sirens, wards flaring. Shouts in three different tongues as spells light up the streets like lightning.

I grip the wheel tighter as we cut through downtown, Seraphine in the passenger seat radiating barely restrained power.

“Still think going public was a good idea?” I ask.

She doesn’t flinch. “Yes.”

“You knew this was coming.”

“I hoped it wouldn’t. But I knew.” Her voice softens. “And now we fight it together. No more hiding. No more waiting for them to pick us off.”

I glance at her.

She’s not scared. She’s ready.

But I see the strain in her shoulders. The fatigue that lives behind her fierce glare.

This is her nightmare. Coming true. All over again.

“I’m with you,” I say quietly.

Her gaze flicks to me, sharp. “Even now?”

“Especially now.”

Her hand finds mine.

And in that one second—surrounded by chaos, flames reflecting in the windows, the city tearing itself apart around us —there’s a tether between us stronger than any magic I’ve ever known.

When we reach the next checkpoint, it’s already under siege.

We barely make it through the barricade before another explosion rocks the street, and the sky glows red behind us.

Screams with gunfire. Magic so thick it warps the air.

Seraphine doesn’t hesitate. She’s out of the car before I even stop it, hands alight with shadow and smoke, throwing spells that ripple through enemy lines with the weight of a god, not caring who sees anymore. It’s her only defense and she’s tired of hiding.

And I follow. Because that’s what I do now. Because this war is ours.