Page 21
Chapter 21
L ila
I trace my finger along the steel wall, feeling the cool, unyielding surface beneath my skin. This new cell is a far cry from my previous quarters. No windows, no books, not even a desk. Just a narrow cot, basic ablutions, and harsh overhead lighting that never dims. They’ve stripped away even the illusion of humanity.
My nail catches on a tiny imperfection in the metal. I’ve been working at it for three days now, scratching a tally mark for each day since the catastrophe at Craven Industries. It gives me something to do with my hands, something they can’t take away.
I hear Hargen before I see him; measured footsteps approach from the corridor. My back’s to the door, but I’ve memorized his gait after years under his care. Some things remain constant, even as the world outside these walls transforms.
“Your medication,” he announces as the door slides open.
I don’t turn. “More sedatives? Creed must be getting paranoid.”
He moves closer, setting the tray on the edge of my cot. A gentle hand rests briefly on my shoulder—a pressure code we developed years ago. Act normal. I need to tell you something.
“How are you feeling today?” he asks, voice perfectly calibrated for the surveillance equipment.
“Like I’m being slowly poisoned.” I turn, accepting the cup of water and pills. “Or is that the point?”
“Just following medical protocols.” His eyes flick to the camera mounted in the corner.
I swallow the pills mechanically. Hargen checks my pulse—another standard procedure that gives him an excuse to lean closer.
“Maintenance sweep in two minutes,” he murmurs against my hair. “Camera loop for ninety seconds. Be ready.”
Tension ripples through me. Camera loops are dangerous—if discovered, the consequences would be severe. Whatever Hargen needs to say must be critical.
We proceed with the health check. Blood pressure. Pupils. Reflexes. The familiar routine continues while I count seconds in my head.
Static crackles over the intercom.
“Sector seven, maintenance diagnostic beginning. Systems offline for ninety seconds.”
The camera’s red light blinks twice, then goes dark.
“Talk fast,” Hargen says, abandoning all pretense.
“I’ve seen something,” I whisper, voice urgent. “Something awakening. Connected to the Heartstone.”
His eyebrows lift. “What kind of something?”
“A woman… emerging from ash.” I grip his hand. “This isn’t ordinary magic, Hargen. This is ancient, something we don’t understand. The visions keep coming stronger each time.”
“Could it be connected to the energy fluctuations they’ve been tracking?”
“It’s more than that. Whatever—whoever—this is, she’s going to change everything.” I lean closer. “The power I’ve sensed… it rivals the Heartstone itself. Stronger even.”
“At least your daughter is safe.” His voice softens.
“Yes. She’s with Caleb Craven.” Relief floods through me. “I can feel her now, stronger than before. The connection between them… it’s formed into something permanent.”
“So it’s true, what they’re saying? A mate bond?” Hargen’s surprise breaks through his composure.
“Yes.” A smile touches my lips, despite everything. “It gives her protection. The Cravens won’t abandon one of their own, especially not the mate of their leader.”
Hargen glances at his watch. “Forty seconds left.”
“Creed’s been pushing me,” I continue, urgency replacing relief. “Each session with the Shard, he wants me controlling dragons from further distances. Testing the limits.”
His face darkens. “I know. He’s planning a Craven infiltration.”
Cold washes through me. “To what end?”
“I don’t know specifics. Only that it’s happening soon.” He hesitates. “Two, maybe three days.”
“I need to fight him,” I say, the words tasting of desperation. “Whatever he’s planning, it can’t be good. Not for Elena, not for anyone.”
“Lila, don’t.” His voice drops lower. “Creed’s patience is gone, especially after your attack on him. If you defy him again—”
“What? He’ll kill me?” I laugh, the sound brittle. “That’s coming, regardless.”
His eyes find mine, anguish bleeding through his professional mask. “I’ve seen the orders, Lila. Once they have Elena, once they’ve finished with this mission, you’re scheduled for termination.”
My world stops spinning for a moment. I’ve always known this was a possibility, even a probability. But hearing it confirmed still steals my breath.
“Twenty seconds,” Hargen reminds me, watching the timer on his wrist.
“So that’s it?” I ask, strangely calm. “A bullet because I’m no longer useful?”
“They believe Elena will be more malleable. A fresh Rossewyn witch without any defiance built into her.” His hand tightens around mine. He leans closer, his voice urgent, speaking quickly, “I won’t let them execute you, Lila.”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, pulling in a breath. The seconds are flying past, closing our chance to discuss this.
“What choice do we have?” I search his face. “Security protocols keep shifting. Reeve can barely get access to this section anymore.”
His jaw sets with determination I rarely see. “I’ll find a way.”
“If I resist during the Shard session…” I begin.
“Five seconds left.” He cuts me off. “They’ll kill you on the spot. And then there’s no way you’ll be able to help her. Don’t give them the excuse.”
The camera light blinks back to life, ending our brief window of truth. Hargen pulls away, resuming the clinical distance of handler and asset. The mask slides back into place seamlessly, but the knowledge sits between us like a living thing.
My execution is scheduled.
“Your vitals are stabilizing,” he says for the record. “We’ll continue the prescribed regimen and then reassess tomorrow.”
I nod, the perfect prisoner. The obedient asset.
After he leaves, I return to my wall scratching, adding another mark to the tally. It’s meaningless, really—counting days when there may be so few left. The awareness of my mortality presses against me, suffocating in its certainty.
I’ve faced death before. When they first captured me, when extractions went wrong, when I defied them at great cost. But this is different—clinical, scheduled, inevitable.
I press my forehead against the cool metal wall, eyes closed against the harsh light. For the first time since my capture, I allow fear to surface—not for Elena, not for the world, but for myself. The simple, human fear of ending.
All these years of endurance and bitter compromises. All the pain, the visions torn from my mind. All of it ending not with freedom, but with disposal when I’m no longer of value.
I’ve protected my daughter at the cost of my freedom. Now it seems I’ll protect her with my life as well.
The irony tastes bitter. I survived all that time, only to die before I could ever feel the sun on my face again. Before I could ever hold my daughter in my arms.
I scratch another mark into the wall—deeper, angrier. Not for the days passed, but for the ones I’ll never see.