Page 63 of Kingdom of Chaos (Creatures of Chaos #2)

Forty

TALON

Another magical explosion shudders through the earth beneath my boots, shaking branches overhead.

The containment dome the Order cast over the park keeps the battles veiled, but that much magic can’t be fully muffled.

New York has to be feeling these aftershocks.

Probably writing them off as tremors. In this case, ignorance really is bliss.

But I can’t afford ignorance.

Not with her out there.

Imogen shifts beside me, eyes narrowing on the field.

“She’s just standing there,” she mutters. “Not moving. Not reacting. That’s not like her.”

I nod once, fists clenched. “It’s not her. Or . . . not entirely.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know it’s not just paranoia.

Her gaze cuts to mine, sharp with realization. “You think it’s a glamour?”

“Or an illusion,” I say, voice low. “Either way, something’s wrong. That version of her isn’t real.”

My fists clench at my sides. We agreed, no one moves until we get the signal.

But this? This is Kerrim rewriting the rules.

Whatever game he’s playing, she’s already on the board.

A pulse surges through me. Sharp, cold, electric. Like my veins are filling with ice instead of blood. My breath hitches, and I swear the air around me cracks with the force of it. Frost forms at my feet, webbing across the damp earth in thin tendrils.

Imogen notices.

Her head jerks toward me, her expression morphing from suspicion to outright shock. “What on earth?—?”

I can’t answer. I’m too busy fighting to stay in control. My teeth clench hard enough my jaw aches, but the power inside me—my creature—surges to the surface, wild and unrestrained.

My vision sharpens, the world gleaming like ice in sunlight, every detail glittering with a deadly clarity.

It’s never happened like this before. Not in all my years of suppressing what I am. But a wild instinct, a primal force, is howling that she needs me now.

I can’t hold it back. I don’t want to hold it back.

“Talon,” Imogen hisses, taking a step back from the sudden chill radiating off me. “What are you doing?”

The frost creeps up the trees, spreading along bark and branches like the forest itself is freezing in place. My heart pounds hard against my ribs, the ache in my chest tightening unbearably.

“She’s in trouble,” I grind out, voice barely more than a growl.

Imogen’s eyes narrow, scanning the field again. “She hasn’t signaled.”

“She can’t,” I snap, the words tearing from me. I take a step forward, my breath visible in the night air.

I don’t wait for permission, or backup. I move. Fast, silent, barely a whisper on the wind as I break from cover and head for the clearing.

Frost blooms in my wake, trailing behind me in jagged, shimmering paths as my body transforms into its other form.

I’m coming, Freckles. Hold on.