Page 26

Chapter 26

L ila

I wake to softness beneath me and stillness around me. For one terrifying moment, I think I’m back in that cell, that everything—the escape, the helicopter, Hargen—was just another cruel vision torn from my mind.

Then I smell it: pine and cedar, fresh air, nothing like the antiseptic sterility of the Syndicate. I force my eyes open, blinking against gentle light filtering through wooden slats. A cabin. I’m in a bed. A real bed, not a medical cot, with soft blankets and a pillow that cradles my head.

“She’s awake,” someone says.

Footsteps approach. A face appears above me—the red-haired woman, Zoe. Her expression is unreadable, but her eyes are sharp, assessing.

“Where—?” My voice breaks, throat dry as sand.

“Aurora sanctuary,” she answers, offering a glass of water. “Cascade Mountains. You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

I struggle to sit up, arms trembling beneath my weight. The effort leaves me breathless. Zoe helps, adjusting pillows behind me. I sip the water, the simple pleasure of it almost overwhelming.

“Hargen?”

“Alive, thanks to your little stunt.” She doesn’t sound particularly grateful. “Though you nearly killed yourself in the process.”

Memory floods back—the ritual, the Shard, the binding flaring between us. The flood of his memories and emotions. I touch my pocket reflexively, looking for the crystal.

“We’ve secured the Shard,” Zoe says, noting the gesture. “Viktor will want to discuss it with you when you’re stronger.”

“I want it back.” It’s a demand that carries little weight; my voice is thready.

“I’m sure you do.” She stands, smoothing her shirt with precise movements. “You have visitors waiting. One at a time only. Doctor’s orders. But first…” She nods toward a tray on the bedside table. “Eat.”

I stare at the simple tray—a cheese sandwich cut in half and a steaming mug of tea. My hands shake as I reach for it. Bland nutritional supplements and monitored caloric intake make this modest meal seem like a feast.

The first bite nearly undoes me. Sharp cheddar, soft bread—flavors explode across my tongue, overwhelming after so long. I close my eyes, savoring each mouthful with embarrassing intensity. The tea burns pleasantly down my throat, sweetened with honey.

“It’s just a sandwich,” Zoe says, watching me with something between curiosity and amusement.

I swallow, fighting unexpected tears. “You have no idea what it’s like,” I whisper, “to not eat cheese for twenty years.”

I finish every crumb, licking a spot of butter from my thumb without shame. Simple pleasures I’d forgotten existed.

“Right. I’ll let them know you’re ready.” She leaves before I can respond, the door clicking shut behind her. I take another sip of tea, letting my gaze wander around the room. Basic furnishings, wooden walls, a window showing snow-dusted pines. A real window, with no bars, no reinforced glass. The sight of the sky beyond it makes my heart stutter.

The door opens again. Talon steps in, and something in me loosens at the sight of him. He’s changed clothes—dark jeans, a shirt that stretches across shoulders too broad to be entirely human. The dragon still lives close to his skin; I can sense it now that I know what to look for.

“You’re awake,” he says, approaching the bed. “Good. You had us worried.”

“Hargen?” I ask again, needing confirmation from someone I trust. The thought startles me—when did I start trusting this man?

Probably from the very beginning, I realize.

“Recovering well.” Talon pulls a chair closer, sitting beside the bed. “Whatever you did with the Shard, it worked. The damage is healing faster than should be possible.”

Relief floods me, followed quickly by exhaustion. “And the Syndicate?”

“No sign of pursuit so far. The sanctuary is well-hidden, protected.” His eyes study my face. “You need rest.”

“I’ve been asleep for two days,” I point out, attempting to shift my position and wincing as my muscles protest.

“Not sleep. Recovery. What you did with the Shard—”

“Saved his life.”

“Nearly at the cost of your own.”

I look away, unable to hold his gaze. “It was my choice.”

“Why?” he asks, the question gentle but direct. “After everything, after finally getting free… why risk it all for him?”

The answer is complicated, tangled in years of captivity and connection. In the memories the ritual revealed. In feelings I don’t quite understand.

The emotion I felt in him was mirrored in my heart. Love. And yet… Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Because it’s certainly not stopping me from appreciating the way the fabric of Talon’s shirt is pulling taut across his chest.

What the hell is wrong with you, Lila? You just survived death.

“He protected me,” I say finally. “In small ways. In the only ways he could.”

Talon says nothing, but his expression shifts subtly. Understanding, perhaps. Or something else.

“I want to see outside,” I tell him, changing the subject. “Properly.”

He hesitates, then nods. “Can you stand?”

“With help.”

He moves to the bed, strong arms sliding beneath mine as he helps me to my feet. My legs shake but hold. Leaning heavily against him, I shuffle toward the window. Each step sends pain shooting through muscles unused to freedom, to movement, to choice. The frantic run from the stronghold has left me stiff and aching.

The window seems miles away, but finally, we reach it. Talon pushes it open, and the shock of mountain air floods the room: crisp, wood-scented, achingly pure.

I grip the windowsill, trembling as I gaze out at the vista spread before me. Mountains rise in the distance, their peaks snow-covered, jagged against a blue so intense it hurts my eyes. The sanctuary sits in a valley, log buildings scattered among towering pines. A creek tumbles over rocks below our window, water flashing silver in the sunlight.

“My God,” I whisper.

So much space. So much sky. So much beauty I’d forgotten existed.

Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and unexpected. Twenty years stolen. Twenty years of concrete walls and artificial light instead of this. Twenty years of never feeling rain on my face or wind in my hair or grass beneath my feet.

“It’s still here,” I whisper, the words inadequate for the storm inside me. “The world. It’s still here.”

Talon’s hand settles warm at the small of my back. “Yes. And so are you.”

I turn to look at him, really look at him. Not Allard Reeve, Syndicate security chief, but Talon—whoever he truly is beneath the layers of deception and duty. His eyes meet mine, something flickering in their depths that makes my breath catch.

“Thank you,” I say simply. “For getting me out.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We’re not done.” His voice roughens. “Your daughter—”

“Is safe,” I finish for him. “With the Cravens. With her mate.”

“Yes, but the Syndicate won’t stop. And now they’ve seen the phoenix.” His jaw tightens. “Everything’s changing, Lila. Faster than anyone predicted.”

“I know.” I turn back to the window, to the sky and trees and freedom. “I can feel it.”

The door opens again. Zoe stands there, her expression tight.

“Sorry to interrupt the field trip, but there’s someone else who needs to see her.” Her eyes flick to Talon, something passing between them I can’t quite read. “Viktor’s arrived.”

Talon nods, turning to help me back to bed. “The founder of Aurora,” he explains. “He’ll have questions.”

“About the Shard,” I guess.

“About everything.”

I let him settle me back against the pillows, exhaustion making my limbs leaden. “I want to see Hargen first.”

Zoe opens her mouth, clearly to object, but Talon cuts her off with a sharp gesture.

“I’ll bring him,” he says. “He’s mobile now, thanks to you.”

Zoe’s lips press into a thin line, but she doesn’t argue further. They leave me alone, the door closing quietly behind them.

I sink back against the pillows, eyes drawn again to the window, to the glimpse of sky and freedom beyond. So many years gone. But I’m out. I’m alive. And something tells me this sanctuary, this peace, is temporary.

The world is changing. I felt it in the Shard’s power, in the connection to Hargen, in Talon’s eyes when he spoke of the phoenix. Old magics awakening. New alignments forming.

And I’m no longer watching from a cell. I’m part of it now, for better or worse.

Whatever comes next, I’ll face it in the open air beneath an endless sky.

Free. Finally free.