Page 24

H argen

The silence in the extraction vehicle feels like a weighted blanket.

I study Ember’s profile, watching her stare out the window at the landscape that transforms from woodland to suburban sprawl to wilderness. She hasn’t spoken since we left the house. Since her mother explained why she couldn’t come with us.

The memory of Vanya’s choice burns in my chest. The way she held Ember close, whispering promises she might not live to keep. The careful mask of composure that didn’t quite hide the terror in her eyes.

I can’t leave. The network depends on the Shadowhand’s continued presence.

I hate that she made the decision without consulting me, but I can’t deny the logic. If she disappeared now, it would be clear she was a traitor, and they’d investigate everything she’d been involved in. But God, I wish it hadn’t had to be that way.

Stubborn goddamn woman.

The vehicle climbs steadily into mountain territory, each mile carrying us further from the woman I’ve lost twice now. Beside me, Ember’s breathing has the careful rhythm of someone fighting tears.

“She’ll be okay,” I say quietly, though the words don’t ring true.

Ember’s laugh is bitter, too old for her years. “Will she? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like my mother just chose her job over her daughter.”

“She chose protecting dozens of other families over saving herself.” The defense comes automatically, though it doesn’t ease the fury burning in my gut. “Your mother has been safeguarding these people for years. If she disappears—”

“They die. I know.” Ember’s voice cracks. “She explained the math. The greater good. The needs of the many.”

She finally turns to look at me, and the pain in her eyes makes my chest tighten.

“But she’s my mom,” she whispers. “And I might never see her again.”

The simple truth of it breaks something inside me. So young, and she’s already learned that love isn’t enough to keep people safe. That sometimes the right choice is also the cruelest one.

Fuck this world and its impossible choices.

I reach for her hand, surprised when she doesn’t pull away. Her fingers are cold, trembling slightly.

“We’ll find a way back to her,” I promise, meaning it. “Once you’re safe, once the Aurora Collective establishes secure communication—”

“You can’t promise that.” Her grip tightens. “The Syndicate doesn’t forgive. If they discover what she’s been doing…”

The unfinished sentence hangs between us. Because she’s right. The Ivory League’s justice is swift and absolute. Traitors don’t get second chances.

The vehicle crests a ridge, revealing the mountains that house the Aurora Collective’s outpost in the distance. The jumble of derelict mining equipment might be disguising it, but I know that it’s there.

“Is that it?” Ember asks, following my gaze.

“I know it doesn’t look like much. But it’s home,” I tell her, hoping it’s true.

The extraction team leader, a steel-haired woman named Harrison, turns from the front passenger seat. “ETA fifteen minutes. Mr. Parlance is waiting in his office.”

Viktor. The conversation we’re about to have will determine whether Ember finds sanctuary here or not.

And I have to do it without revealing who her mother really is.

The thought makes my jaw clench. Viktor authorized this extraction based on minimal information—I requested emergency protection for two people.

I’m arriving with one. I couldn’t risk revealing Vanya’s true identity over potentially compromised communication channels.

Now I have to convince him to shelter Ember without exposing the woman who’s still embedded in enemy territory.

“What should I expect?” Ember asks as we descend toward the compound.

“Questions. Viktor likes to understand exactly what he’s dealing with.” I squeeze her hand. “Just be honest about your abilities, your heritage. But let me handle the details about your mother.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Why?”

“Because the less he knows about her current situation, the safer she stays.”

The vehicle passes through checkpoint gates, guards waving us toward a parking area near the main complex. Early morning light creates dramatic shadows across the steel facades, making the whole place look formidable and welcoming at the same time.

“Ready?” I ask as Harrison opens our door.

Ember nods, shouldering her small duffel bag—everything she owns now condensed into twenty pounds of fabric and memories. She moves with careful dignity, hiding the fear I can sense beneath her composed surface.

The main reception hall buzzes with activity despite the early hour.

Dozens of Collective operatives going about their morning routines, some in human form, others allowing their supernatural nature to show openly.

I watch Ember’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight—a group of girls molding a ball of light between them, a woman whose skin shifts between human flesh and scales, two young men whose conversation includes genuine growls and snarls.

“So many,” she breathes. “What does it all mean?”

“Freedom,” I say. “The ability to be yourself without fear.”

A young shifter—maybe twenty-five, with wolf characteristics bleeding through his human appearance—stops to stare at Ember with obvious curiosity. She stares back, wonder replacing the grief in her expression for just a moment.

This is what I want for her. A place where her heritage makes her special instead of hunted.

“This way,” Harrison directs, leading us toward a corridor marked with official insignia. She pushes the door open,, and he rises from his desk, expression thunderous.

“You have some explaining to do,” Viktor says as we walk in.

I position myself slightly in front of Ember, protective instincts flaring. “The situation changed.”

“Did it?” Viktor’s tone carries dangerous skepticism. “Or was there never a Shadowhand to extract?”

“She exists,” I reply carefully. “But circumstances prevented her departure.”

“Circumstances.” Viktor repeats the word with distaste. “You mean the one who’s been systematically undermining Syndicate operations for years suddenly developed cold feet?”

The accusation hangs in the air. I can feel Ember’s tension radiating beside me, her confusion at hearing her mother discussed as a military asset rather than a person.

“She has a network protecting dozens of vulnerable subjects,” I explain, measuring each word. “Her disappearance would expose them all.”

Viktor’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his posture. “And who exactly is this mysterious Shadowhand?”

The moment of truth. But revealing Vanya’s identity could compromise her if this information reaches the wrong ears. The Aurora Collective is only twelve years old—young by supernatural standards, without the deep-rooted security protocols of older organizations.

“Her identity needs to remain classified,” I say carefully. “For operational security.”

Viktor’s good eye narrows. “You’re asking me to provide sanctuary based on promises from an anonymous source.”

“I’m asking you to trust my judgment.” I meet his stare steadily. “The Shadowhand’s intelligence has been valuable to resistance movements for over a decade.”

“And this is…?” He raises an eyebrow, looking past me.

“Ember,” I say. “Her daughter—” I glance at Ember. “My daughter.”

Viktor goes completely still. “What?” he practically barks.

“Ember is my daughter,” I repeat.

His expression shifts from skepticism to something sharper, more calculating.

“Your daughter,” he repeats slowly. “The Shadowhand is…?”

Fuck.

I hadn’t planned to reveal the depth of our connection, but there’s no taking it back now.

“That’s not important now,” I say, keeping my voice steady despite the way Viktor’s stare is boring into me.

“And what exactly am I protecting?” His gaze shifts to Ember, but there’s a new tension in his voice now. The revelation of my personal connection to the Shadowhand has changed the entire dynamic. “What’s your heritage, girl?”

Ember straightens, meeting his intimidating stare with quiet courage. “I am Ember Arrowvane. Witch-dragon hybrid.”

Viktor’s expression sharpens at that detail. “This complicates things.” He looks between Ember and me, pieces clicking together in his mind.

The way he phrases it makes my jaw clench. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” Viktor’s tone has gone cold, professional. “You’ve brought me a complication I wasn’t expecting, Hargen. This isn’t just about protecting a hybrid—it’s about managing the fallout from a relationship that could compromise everything.”

“There’s nothing to compromise,” I say firmly. “Things remain the same. Except now we take care of Ember. If anything, this motivates the Shadowhand to remain loyal.”

Viktor considers this for a moment. “Hybrid manifestations are unpredictable at best,” he mutters, almost to himself. “We’ve lost promising young shifters to their own emerging abilities.”

“That’s why we need guidance,” I press. “Ember needs to be surrounded by people who understand her.”

Before Viktor can respond, the office door opens.

A woman enters without knocking—early thirties, black hair, unusual pale green eyes that seem to flash with silver.

Her movements are fluid, graceful in a way that suggests supernatural heritage.

She’s attractive in an understated way, though there’s something about her that screams “dangerous.”

“The girl looks dead on her feet, Viktor,” she interrupts, studying Ember with obvious concern. “Perhaps the interrogation can wait until she’s had rest?”

Viktor’s expression softens slightly at the newcomer’s intervention. “Ember, this is Nadia Frost. Our resident expert on hybrid magical manifestation.”

Expert on hybrid manifestation.

That’s useful. Maybe this won’t be the disaster I’m imagining.

Nadia approaches with genuine warmth, her smile reaching those strange pale eyes.