Page 12

Chapter 12

T alon

I stare through the observation window at Lila’s motionless form. Three days since the extraction that shattered her mind, and still, she hasn’t stirred. Breathing machines hiss rhythmically. Monitors beep in steady, emotionless rhythm. Proof of life, but nothing more.

My jaw aches from clenching.

I haven’t felt so useless since the day I watched Becca consumed by flames.

She looks so frail against the hospital sheets. Her skin, usually pale but vibrant, has taken on a waxy translucence that turns my gut to ice. The blood has been cleaned from her face, but bruises from her convulsions ring her wrists where the restraints bit into flesh.

I rest my fingertips against the cold glass, something unfamiliar stirring beneath my skin. My dragon responds to her suffering in ways I can’t control—scales threatening to surface along my forearms, a growl building in my chest that I swallow back with effort.

This reaction isn’t professional. Isn’t part of my cover. Isn’t something I can afford.

But I can’t stop it.

“Any change?” I ask when the door opens behind me.

Hargen’s reflection appears in the glass beside mine, his face haggard with exhaustion. “Brain activity remains sporadic. Moments of intense dreaming followed by nothing.”

“Dreaming or seeing?”

“Both, perhaps.” He rubs his eyes. “I can feel… echoes. Through our connection. Nothing clear enough to report.” His voice drops. “Nothing that would satisfy Creed.”

I turn to face him. “And her prognosis?”

His expression tightens. “The medical team has little experience with this sort of thing; usually, they don’t bother trying to keep assets alive. They’re out of their depth.”

“And you?” I study his face. “Are you out of your depth too, handler?”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. “I’ve kept her alive and functional against impossible odds. Don’t question my commitment to her well-being.”

“I’m questioning your expertise, not your commitment.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “You share a magical bond with her. Can you use it to bring her back?”

He glances toward the security camera in the corner, then back to me. “It wasn’t designed for that. The binding allows me to moderate her visions, channel them safely. It wasn’t meant to…” He trails off.

“To what?”

“To cross the boundary into her mind.” His voice roughens. “To pull her consciousness back from wherever it’s retreated.”

I absorb this, considering angles. “But theoretically possible?”

“Theoretically suicidal,” he corrects. “Her mind is… fractured. If I attempted it, I’d likely suffer the same fate.”

I observe him as he says this, realizing that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it if he knew it would work.

“You have feelings for her.” It’s not a question.

Hargen’s expression goes blank. “I’m her handler.”

“It’s more than that.”

For a moment, something raw and honest flashes across his face. “It doesn’t matter what it is. What matters is keeping her alive until she heals. If she heals.”

The doubt in his voice chips away at something in my chest. I’ve seen strong witches before, but nothing like what they did to her. The extraction tore something fundamental within her, reaching beyond her consciousness into the deepest wells of her power.

And they did it because I failed to protect her.

My cover required standing back. Watching. Collecting intelligence. The Aurora Collective needs information about the Syndicate’s plans, about the Heartstone, about the unexpected energy signatures.

But Lila is paying the price for that caution.

There’s only one other time I’ve despised myself this much.

“You don’t act like the others,” Hargen says suddenly, watching me with renewed interest. “Your concern seems… personal.”

I maintain Allard Reeve’s professional detachment with effort. “Asset preservation is my priority. Her value to the Syndicate—”

“Spare me the company line,” he interrupts. “I’ve worked here long enough to recognize when someone isn’t what they claim to be. That conversation we had in the hallway…”

The accusation hangs between us. I keep my expression clinical despite the alarm bells ringing in my head. My instincts may be telling me that this man could be useful, but until I’m certain, I can’t risk showing my hand completely. I need to feel him out first.

“Careful, Cole. That sounds dangerously close to insubordination,” I say instead.

“You care about her,” he continues, ignoring my warning.

“I don’t like waste,” I say carefully. “Pushing her that hard was tactically unsound.”

“Bullshit.” Hargen steps closer, lowering his voice. “There’s something else. Something you’re not saying.”

I hold his gaze, weighing risks. This man has been Lila’s protector; he cares about her, whether he admits it or not. His magical connection to her makes him both valuable and dangerous. If I reveal too much, he could expose me. If I reveal too little, I lose a potential ally. Perhaps the only one who might help me get Lila out.

“Let’s say I believe the Syndicate’s methods are… unnecessarily brutal,” I offer finally.

He studies me for a long moment, then nods almost imperceptibly. Not agreement, but acknowledgment of the careful dance we’re performing.

“They’ve found her,” he says quietly, changing the subject. “The daughter.”

My blood chills. “How?”

“Facial recognition software. Her mother’s name was enough to start the search.” He glances at Lila’s still form. “They pulled personnel files from law enforcement databases across the country. Looking for women named Elena Ross, aged twenty-five to thirty. Physical resemblance to Lila.”

“And?”

“Success on the third day. Elena Ross, twenty-eight. Private investigator based in Seattle. Specializing in missing persons and corporate investigations.”

The irony hits me. Lila’s daughter grew up to find missing people, perhaps driven by the unsolved disappearance of her own mother.

“What does Creed want with her?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“They’re certain she inherited her mother’s Rossewyn abilities. That she’s connected to the energy fluctuations they’ve been tracking around the Craven clan.” Hargen’s voice drops lower. “They think she can get them access to the Heartstone.”

My mind races through implications. If Elena has even a fraction of her mother’s power, the Syndicate will use her to get to the Heartstone. And once they have what they want…

“They’ll use her,” I say flatly. “Like her mother.”

Hargen’s throat works. “Yes.”

“Does she know what she is? Her heritage?”

“Unknown. But they don’t think so. No indication Lila ever revealed their bloodline or abilities.”

Smart. Keeping Elena ignorant of her heritage would have protected her; power often manifests with knowledge and training. Without understanding what she is, Elena might have lived a relatively normal life, her abilities dormant or dismissed as intuition.

Until now.

Because now, everyone wants a piece of her. My own people included.

The Collective is waiting anxiously for my next update. The encrypted message I’d sent to Viktor earlier had been necessarily brief: Rossewyn witch has adult daughter. Syndicate tracking her. Connected to Craven Industries energy signature. Heartstone likely involved.

His response had been immediate: Confirm daughter’s abilities. Protect both assets at all costs. We need to get a team on the daughter. Extraction timeline accelerated.

Simple orders. Nearly impossible execution. Lila can’t be moved.

I turn back to the observation window, mind calculating rapidly. My fingers press harder against the glass.

“What are Lila’s chances of recovery? Honest assessment.”

He follows my gaze to her still form. “Without intervention? Minimal. They pushed too far. The extraction tore pathways in her mind that may never heal naturally.”

The words sink like stones in my gut. I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the only visible sign that she still lives.

“You’re not Syndicate,” Hargen says suddenly. Not a question.

I don’t confirm or deny; just hold his gaze steadily.

“Who are you really?” he asks.

I weigh my response carefully. “Someone who sees the value in keeping Lila alive.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s all you get for now.” I pause for a moment, then continue, “You’re not with them.”

Our eyes lock in silent challenge. Finally, he looks back at Lila, his expression softening.

“I’ve never been with them,” he says quietly. “Not really. Not once I understood what they were doing to her.”

The admission hangs between us—dangerous, irreversible.

“Even though they bound you to her? Forced the connection?”

His laugh is short, bitter. “They think the binding makes me her jailer. They have no idea.” He runs a hand over his face. “It goes both ways, that connection. I’ve felt her pain, her determination.” He meets my eyes. “She’s endured more than anyone should have to.”

I assess him carefully, looking for deception. Finding none. “That’s a risky sentiment in this place.”

“I passed the point of risk long ago.” His jaw sets. “Now I just want her to wake up.”

The moment is interrupted by my tablet alert—a summons to Creed’s office. I check the message, jaw clenching at what I read.

“They want me at the planning meeting,” I tell Hargen. “Apparently, I’m to coordinate security protocols for Elena’s surveillance.”

“Be careful,” he warns. “Creed’s excited about this development. When he’s excited, he’s more dangerous.”

“I know how to play my part.” I give Lila one last look before turning away. The sight of her vulnerability carves something inside me—a wound that won’t heal until she opens her eyes again.

If she opens her eyes again.

My heart lurches at the thought that she might not, and once again, I’m surprised at the depth of the feeling. I came here to save her; there was never any doubt about that. But this… I don’t know what this is.

I stride through the facility corridors, Allard Reeve’s mask firmly in place as I prepare to infiltrate a meeting about hunting down the daughter of the woman lying broken because of me. Each step takes more control than the last, my dragon raging beneath my skin, demanding vengeance for what they’ve done.

Not yet. First, we gather intel. Then we decide.

In Creed’s office, excitement crackles like electricity. Five senior Syndicate officers clustered around a holographic display showing a woman’s profile.

Elena Ross.

The resemblance to her mother is striking. Same high cheekbones, same determined set to her jaw. But where Lila’s eyes are almost silver, Elena’s are a shade darker, more intense. Her hair falls in loose waves rather than Lila’s straight curtain.

Something in my gut twists at the sight of her. Lila’s daughter. The secret she protected with her sanity. Her life.

“Ah, Reeve. Join us.” Creed gestures me closer, practically vibrating with anticipation. “We’re discussing the Ross situation.”

I approach with calm steps, studying the display. “You found the daughter.”

“Indeed.” Emerson manipulates the hologram, bringing up additional files. “She’s twenty-eight, living in Seattle. Private investigator specializing in corporate investigations and missing persons.” She reels off the details Hargen already shared with me. “Excellent record of success. Highest recommendations from previous clients.”

“Her skill set is perfect,” another officer adds. “She’s trained to infiltrate, investigate, follow complex trails. And she has no idea what she really is.”

“Has she displayed any abilities?” I ask, keeping my tone professionally curious. “Any signs of Rossewyn power?”

“Nothing documented,” Emerson answers. “But without training or knowledge of her bloodline, any manifestations would likely be attributed to intuition or luck. The records show she’s considered ‘unusually perceptive’ in her field.”

“So she’s untrained,” I observe. “Potentially unstable if her powers activate unexpectedly.”

“A calculated risk,” Creed dismisses. “One with significant potential reward.”

He expands the display, showing a building I’ve come to recognize—Craven Industries headquarters. The energy signature readings pulse across the schematic, concentrated around the lower levels.

“The Heartstone is there,” Creed says, tapping the display. “We’re certain of it. But the Cravens have implemented both physical and magical security that our operatives can’t penetrate. We need someone with Rossewyn blood. Someone who can access areas we can’t.”

“And you think she can do this?” I ask. “Without training? Without knowledge of what she is?”

“She doesn’t need to understand her power to use it,” Emerson explains. “The Rossewyn bloodline responds instinctively to the Heartstone. Her mere presence will activate pathways, open doors meant to remain sealed to outsiders.”

“And how do you plan to get her inside?”

Creed smiles, the expression making my scales itch beneath my skin. “We’ve created the perfect scenario. Blackthorn Holdings—one of our shell companies—has contacted her with a lucrative offer. Corporate espionage investigation at Craven Industries. Suspected theft of proprietary technology.”

“Simple, elegant, and completely deniable,” another officer adds. “She’ll believe she’s been hired legitimately. Her professional ethics will keep her focused and thorough. And her blood will do the rest.”

“The approach has already been made,” Emerson adds, bringing up a communication log. “Her initial response was positive. She’ll be in by tomorrow morning.”

My mind races with implications. Tomorrow. So soon.

“What’s my role in this?” I ask.

“Security oversight,” Creed answers. “You’ll coordinate surveillance of Elena Ross once she begins her work at Craven Industries. We need to know everywhere she goes, everything she touches. The moment she comes in contact with the Heartstone or anything related to it, we move.”

“And then?”

Creed’s eyes gleam with anticipation. “Then we take what’s rightfully ours. The Heartstone returns to those who understand its true power.”

“And the girl?”

“Depends on her usefulness.” He shrugs. “If she shows promise, she becomes our newest asset. If not…” He leaves the threat unspoken.

“What about the mother?” I ask, forcing my voice to remain even. “Lila.”

“If she recovers consciousness, she remains potentially useful,” Creed says with callous indifference. “We still need someone to operate the Shard, and as a Rossewyn, she’s capable. Two witches are better than one, after all.” He grins. “But if she doesn’t recover…” He shrugs. “We’ll train the daughter instead. Test her compatibility with the fragment we have.”

The casual brutality of it threatens to crack my mask. I clench my jaw, forcing down the rage building in my chest. Scales threaten to erupt on my skin as a surge of protectiveness threatens to overwhelm me.

“I’ll need complete files on Elena Ross,” I say, voice steady despite the fire in my lungs. “Background, psychological profile, surveillance parameters.”

“Already uploaded to your secure server,” Emerson confirms. “Along with all intelligence on Craven Industries’ security systems.”

“Excellent.” I step back, eager to escape before my control slips. Before the dragon erupts and burns all these fuckers to a crisp. “I’ll begin preparations immediately.”

“One more thing, Reeve.” Creed’s voice stops me at the door. “Your work here has been… impressive. The witch’s security protocols, your attention to detail. The Director has noticed.” He smiles thinly. “This operation with the daughter will be closely watched.”

“I live to serve the Syndicate’s interests, sir.”

The lie makes me want to wash my mouth out as I leave.

In my quarters, I review everything about Elena Ross. Her address in Seattle. Her client history. The Blackthorn Holdings approach strategy. Details that paint a picture of a woman who has no idea of the forces converging around her.

And now Lila lies unconscious, hovering between life and death because she tried to protect this daughter she hasn’t seen in decades.

I pull up the latest medical report on my tablet; no change in her condition. Neural activity remains erratic. No signs of consciousness returning. The prognosis grows bleaker with each passing hour.

My hand tightens around the tablet until the casing creaks in protest. I force myself to set it down before I crush it completely.

Lila needs to wake up. Not just for the intel she has, or the connection she might provide to her daughter, but because the alternative is unacceptable to me. Because the thought of those beautiful eyes never opening again creates a hollow in my chest I can’t explain.

Why didn’t you fucking do something?

I close Elena’s file and bring up the surveillance feed from the medical wing. Hargen sits beside Lila’s bed, his back to the camera, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. His hand rests near hers on the mattress, not quite touching—maintaining propriety for the watching eyes, perhaps, but needing the proximity nonetheless.

The image confirms what I suspected from our conversation. His commitment to her goes far beyond handler and asset. Far beyond the magical binding that connects them.

A potential ally. A shared interest in her survival.

Maybe more?

There’s another burst of jealousy in my chest at the thought of it, but I shove it down. He’ll be useful. For now, that’s enough to work with. A foundation to build on while we wait for Lila to fight her way back to consciousness.

She has to fight her way back.

I switch off the feed and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. The Syndicate’s plans march forward. Elena Ross steps unwittingly into their sights. And the woman who gave everything to keep her safe can’t warn her, can’t protect her, can’t even open her eyes.

All I can do is play my role. Watch. Wait. Gather intel for the Collective. Prepare for the moment when action becomes possible.

And hope that Lila’s strength hasn’t finally met its limit.