Page 17

H argen

The corridors blur past in fragments of fluorescent light and concrete. Each step carries me further from the interrogation chamber where my world shattered and reformed, where grief collapsed into the miracle of Vanya’s face without that damned silver mask.

She walks beside me, spine straight, moving with the same grace that made me fall in love with her. But there’s something different now. A hardness in her shoulders. A calculation in the way she scans each junction, each security camera, each potential threat.

The Shadowhand walks through the Syndicate facility like she owns it.

Because she does.

My hands clench and unclench at my sides as we pass checkpoints where guards snap to attention at the sight of her. A woman I barely recognize anymore.

“Perimeter checkpoint ahead,” she murmurs, not looking at me. “Let me handle this.”

I nod because what else can I do? I’m a ghost walking through enemy territory, dependent on the woman who let me mourn her for nothing.

The security station comes into view—two guards, multiple screens, weapons that could turn me to ash in seconds. One of them looks up as we approach, then starts to rise.

“Shadowhand.” His voice carries respect and fear in equal measure. “We weren’t expecting—”

“Special protocols,” Vanya cuts him off, her voice carrying the arctic authority I heard in the interrogation chamber. “This asset requires immediate transfer to my private facility.”

She produces credentials from her jacket, sliding them across the desk with movements that speak of absolute confidence. I catch a glimpse of my own face on the documentation, labeled as ‘Security Asset K-7’ with clearance authorization under “Shadowhand Authority.”

The guard’s eyes widen as he scans the papers. “Elder, I’ll need to verify this through—”

“You’ll need to expedite this transfer.” Vanya’s voice drops to that dangerous softness I remember from our most intimate moments, now weaponized into something that makes the guard’s face go pale.

“Unless you’d prefer to explain to Elder Vex why his priority intelligence operation was delayed by bureaucratic inefficiency? ”

The threat hangs in the air. The guard’s hand hovers over his communication device for a heartbeat before he thinks better of it.

“Of course, Shadowhand. No delay necessary.” He hands back the credentials with shaking fingers. “Sublevel garage access is cleared. Will you require an escort?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He practically melts with relief as we move past his station. I catch his partner staring at me with undisguised curiosity—probably wondering what kind of prisoner warrants personal attention from the Ivory League’s most feared member.

If only he knew.

The elevator descends through layers of concrete and steel, each level taking us deeper into the facility’s heart.

Vanya stands perfectly still beside me, but I can feel the tension radiating from her.

She spoke of a bond, and I recognize it now.

An invisible thread connecting us across years of separation.

“How long?” I ask when the silence becomes unbearable.

“How long what?”

“How long have you been spying on me through our connection?”

Her jaw tightens. “It wasn’t spying.”

“What would you call it?”

She’s silent for a while, and then, “Self-indulgence,” she says softly, eyes straight ahead as we reach a dark vehicle.

“Vanya, I—”

“Get in.” She unlocks the car with a gesture, cutting off anything I might have been about to say.

I slide into the passenger seat, the leather cold against my back. She starts the engine, and we’re moving through the garage toward an exit that opens at her approach.

Sunlight hits us, blinding me after hours in the facility’s depths. I squint against the brightness as she guides us through city streets that blur past in unfamiliar patterns.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Somewhere safe.” She takes a right turn that carries us away from the Syndicate’s administrative district, toward residential areas I don’t recognize. “Somewhere they can’t find us.”

The drive stretches between us, filled with questions I’m afraid to ask and answers I’m not sure I want to hear. She’s taking us through a deliberate route—doubling back, changing directions, ensuring we’re not followed. Professional-level tradecraft.

“Tell me more about Ember.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Vanya shoots a look at me before turning her attention back to the road ahead. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” I say. “What’s she like?”

A smile flickers across her face. “Like a ray of light. She’s brilliant. Stubborn. Gets that from both of us, I think.” She glances at me again. “She’s studying environmental science. Wants to save the world through sustainable agriculture.”

“Does she know? About magic? About what she is?”

“Some of it.” Vanya’s voice grows careful. “She knows she’s different. That she can do things others can’t. But I’ve kept her away from the deeper truths. Away from the politics and the bloodlines and the wars.”

“And me?”

The silence stretches too long.

I press harder. “She doesn’t know about me.” It’s not a question.

“I told her that her father died before she was born. It seemed… safer.”

“Safer?”

“I didn’t want her going looking for you, Hargen.” Her voice is tortured. “It was hard enough lying to her about being half-witch. But if she’d known her father was so close…” She trails off.

“She would have exposed all of us,” I say.

Vanya nods, her focus back on the road. “She’s like most kids. Impulsive. Headstrong. Like a dog with a bone when her mind’s set on something.” She pinches her lips together. “She wouldn’t understand the danger she’d be facing.”

We slip into silence as she keeps driving.

“What does she look like?” I change the angle of the conversation to something less troubling.

This time, her smile is radiant. “She has your eyes. Your chin. But her hair is pale like mine.” Vanya’s voice grows soft with remembered tenderness. “When she was little, it was almost snow white.”

The image forms in my mind—a young woman with serious dark eyes and hair like spun silver, carrying pieces of both of us in her features.

“I’m sure she’s beautiful,” I say, though I’ve never seen her.

“She is.” Vanya’s voice catches slightly. “And she’s in danger.”

“The purification protocols.”

“They’ll identify her. Discover what she is.” She turns onto a narrow road that winds through wooded hills outside the city. “Once they know that—”

“They’ll kill her.”

“Or worse. Use her as leverage against me. Against you, once they realize the connection.”

My hands clench into fists. “We won’t let that happen.”

“No.” Her voice carries absolute certainty. “We won’t.”

The trees close around us as we climb into the hills, providing cover from surveillance satellites and magical oversight. After minutes of winding roads, she turns onto a gravel drive that disappears into heavy forest.

“Here,” she says.

The house that emerges from the trees is modest—two stories, weathered wood siding, the kind of place that blends into the landscape so well it’s almost invisible. But I can feel the magic radiating from it in waves, protective wards layered so thick they make my skin hum.

“Emergency contingency,” Vanya explains as she parks. “I’ve been preparing this place for years. Even Cassia doesn’t know about it.”

I climb out of the car, testing the magical defenses with careful probes. “Good magic. Impressive work… for a dragon.” I smile at her, hoping the teasing note in my voice will take the edge off the conversation.

“I had good teachers.” She moves toward the front door, which opens at her approach. “And plenty of motivation.” She removes her mask and I realize she’s taken the entire trip with it on, still clinging to the persona.

The interior of the house is sparse but comfortable—functional furniture, a modestly appointed kitchen, bookshelves lined with books. It feels like she wanted it to be a home, not a safe house.

“Motion detectors throughout the perimeter,” she explains, moving through the house to activate additional security measures. “Magical dampeners, early warning systems. If anyone approaches within a mile, we’ll know.”

She pauses at a window that overlooks the forest, her fingers tracing patterns against the glass that make the wards pulse brighter.

“How long have you been planning this?” I ask.

“Since the day she was born.” The words are quiet, heavy with years of preparation and fear. “I always knew this moment might come. When keeping her secret would no longer be enough.”

I move to stand beside her, close enough to catch the familiar scent of winter roses that clings to her hair. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin despite the ice that seems to be running in her veins.

“What happens now?”

She turns to face me, and for a moment, the Shadowhand’s persona slips completely. I see the woman I fell in love with—vulnerable, desperate, terrified for her child.

Our child.

“Now we wait,” she says. “I’ll bring her here tonight. Under the cover of darkness.”

My heart races at the prospect. “And then?”

“Then you meet your daughter.” Her eyes search mine, looking for something I’m not sure I can give her. “And we figure out how to keep her alive.”

The weight of it settles over me. Years of not knowing I had a daughter. Years of believing Vanya was dead, only to discover she was watching from the shadows. And now, in the space of hours, everything has changed.

I feel like my world is about to implode.

Get a grip, for fuck’s sake!

“Hargen.” Vanya’s voice is soft, uncertain. “I know you have every right to hate me. For the lies. For all of it.”

I study her face, reading the genuine regret in her expression. The fear that I’ll walk away. The desperate hope that I’ll stay.

“I don’t hate you,” I tell her, surprising us both with the truth. “I’m angry. Confused. Hurt. But I don’t hate you.”

Relief flickers across her features.

“But I need to know something.” I step closer, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. “If I do this—if I help you save her—what happens to us?”

She swallows hard. “What do you want to happen?”

“I want honesty. No more secrets between us. No more lies.” I reach up, touching the side of her face gently. “I want to know if there’s anything left of what we had. Anything real beneath all the roles you’ve played.”

Her breath catches at my touch. “There is. There’s always been something real, Hargen. Even when everything else was a lie.”

The admission hangs between us, fragile and precious.

“Then we start there,” I say. “With the truth.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, staring out at the forest where shadows are lengthening with the approach of evening. When she speaks, her voice is strained.

“I don’t know if I remember how to be just Vanya.”

“Then I’ll remind you.”

She looks at me then, really looks at me, and her eyes soften.

“She’s going to love you,” she says quietly. “Ember. She’s going to love you so much.”

“What will you tell her? About who I am? About why you’ve kept us apart?”

Vanya moves to the window, her fingers tracing patterns on the glass. “The truth.” She pauses, looking back at me. “Finally.”

I nod. “That’s the right thing to do.”

“I know,” she says simply. She turns and heads back to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

I watch as she returns to her car and drives away from the house. I don’t stop watching until the sound of the engine fades completely. Soon, she’ll drive back into the city to collect our daughter. Soon, I’ll meet the child I never knew I had.

And everything will change again.

I settle into a chair by the window and wait for my world to expand beyond anything I ever imagined possible.