Page 42

S unrise breaks across the horizon, and I take a moment to appreciate it.

It’s been a month since I last set foot on Saber Lane, three months since Peyton brought me out of the maze, and during this past month, I haven’t stopped, driven by a determination that I can put right every aspect of my life, or as right as those parts can be.

I have Zara and the assassins to thank for cleaning out Draven Industries, but putting a new board in place has taken time and care.

I wanted supernaturals who would be confident enough to challenge me when they should but who would also act ethically and with integrity. After multiple setbacks, I finally succeeded.

Zara is now like a shadow at my back, acting as my advisor, helping with the things I can’t ask anyone else to do. She’s adjusted to my routine, waking up at sunrise like I do.

Not that I’m going for a run yet.

I’m still using crutches to get about.

Typhon did a fucking number on my spine, and the sheer power Tansy Grey must have used to pull me back together fills me with awe every time I think about it. Which is often.

But more often, Peyton is in my thoughts, the driving force behind everything I do, making me as determined as she must have been when she pulled me, broken and bloody, out of the maze.

I want to contact her more than anything, but there are still things I need to set right, things I need to make better.

I need to have a clean slate when I next see her because I can’t bring any of my past problems into her life. None of it. She deserves that.

As I turn away from the window, reaching for the crutches I leaned against the chair behind me, I find my stepsister hovering in the doorway. Not that I didn’t sense she was there, but the happy buzz she’s giving off is new.

“I found her,” Zara says.

I still, waiting for my heart to catch up. It takes a moment. Connecting with my emotions is something I still have to consciously take time to achieve.

Luckily, I’ve discovered that when you have money, people are willing to wait as long as you want.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“Closer than expected. Do you want to see her?”

I give Zara a short nod. “Today. But only from a distance.”

She spins on her heel. “I’ll shift your meetings.”

I dress more casually than I have for the last month, choosing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I want to blend in, not stand out.

My driver takes us to the airport, where my private jet is waiting—the fact that I have a driver and a jet are both things I’m not sure I’ll get used to.

We touch down in Philadelphia by mid-morning.

I tread carefully here.

This city has one of the last populations of dragon shifters, as well as a stronghold of warrior angels who won’t take kindly to a hellhound’s presence.

The dragon shifters are well hidden, so it’s difficult to ascertain where I might step on their turf, but I steer clear of the angels’ stronghold near the center of the city.

Zara has already arranged a vehicle for us, and she instructs the driver to take us to a small park on the outskirts of Chesterbrook.

I wait with her on a park bench in the shadow of a tree as the mothers come out with their children to play on the playground set.

Finally, a blonde wearing old jeans, a banana-stained T-shirt, and scuffed sneakers appears, carrying a baby girl. She takes the baby to the sandpit and rests her in her lap so the little girl’s toes can dig into the sand while her mother builds a wonky sandcastle.

The girl looks maybe four months old. She wears a pink ribbon in the few wisps of hair at the top of her head. Judging by the way the ribbon keeps sliding out of place, her hair is as fine as her mother’s.

When the castle falls over, Kaitlyn scoops her daughter up and smothers her cheeks in kisses.

“They look happy,” I murmur.

Kaitlyn was Adrian Hadrix’s daughter. She was manipulated into believing that I had killed the only man she loved, a panther shifter named Jesse. Jesse was imprisoned in the forest outside the Academy’s electric fence.

I freed them both.

“Their life isn’t easy,” Zara replies. “Jesse works nights, and Kaitlyn temps as a waitress during the day—when she can get shifts. They look after their baby on their own. From what I’ve observed, they’re good parents. Their daughter’s needs come first.”

“You watched them for a while, then?”

“Just a week. I wanted to know what we were dealing with.” Zara gives me an apologetic smile. “Did I do the wrong thing not telling you right away?”

“I’m happy you were thorough.”

“What do you want to do now, Striker?”

When I first stayed at the Legion, I negotiated with Slade and Hunter to wipe Kaitlyn’s name from Slade’s ledger. They were reluctant at first, but I was persistent. I went through every piece of evidence against her and tied it all back to her parents and their dominance over her life.

In the end, the assassins agreed to wipe her slate clean with the warning that any future crimes wouldn’t be ignored.

Looking at Kaitlyn now, I know there won’t be any.

My answer to Zara is simple. “I want to buy Kaitlyn a house so they don’t have to worry about the roof over their heads. Not an extravagant place. Comfortable. In a location with good schools. But I don’t want it traced back to me.”

I had already, before I went into the maze, quietly leveraged my contacts in the security sector to make sure Jesse’s brother, Harrison—or Evan Anderson as his real name is—was now employed as a highly paid bodyguard. Buying a house for Kaitlyn will need to be done even more carefully.

“Do we have any charities that can front for it?” I ask Zara.

She nods. “One or two that might work.”

“Good. I also want you to set up an education fund for each of their children.”

“Each? They only have one.”

I snort. “They’re going to have more.”

This time, Zara hides her smile. “Sure. I’ll make sure I stay on top of that then.”

“Thank you.”

On the way back to the airport, Zara interrupts my thoughts. “You’re quiet.”

I guess she means more than I have been. I watch the passing cars, fully aware of the hole in my life and how much I want it filled by the only person who can.

“While you’re looking into houses for Kaitlyn, I’d like you to look for one for me,” I say.

Zara claps her hands on her knees. “Thank the ancients. I thought you’d never ask. You can’t keep living in your office. Where and how many rooms do you want?”

“It needs to be away from the city. Far enough that you can’t hear the noise or sense the people. It needs to be quiet but accessible.”

“Hmm. A challenge then. If it exists, I’ll find it.”

It takes another month and two false starts, but no amount of time can change what I need to do.

I finally have something to offer. A stable life. A quiet place.

It’s time to take a leap of faith.