Page 29

Chapter 29

L ila

I wake before dawn, the artificial lighting in my underground quarters still dimmed to mimic night. The bed is too soft after all those institutional mattresses, the silence too complete without the constant hum of Syndicate surveillance equipment.

Freedom, it turns out, takes adjustment.

My mind drifts to Talon, his touch, how he felt inside me. My skin heats at the memory, and I find myself halfway to the door before rational thought kicks in. The memory of him lingers on every inch of my body, a feeling I’ve never experienced before. Something possessive had flashed in his eyes when he’d taken me—something that should terrify me but instead makes my pulse quicken.

No. Not yet. There’s something I need to do first.

Hargen.

The ritual revealed his feelings for me. But there was something else, something that’s been nagging at me since that moment our blood and consciousness merged through the Shard’s power.

I pull on clothes left for me: soft pants, a plain T-shirt, a cardigan that feels impossibly luxurious against skin accustomed to utilitarian fabric.

The corridors of the Outpost are quiet but not deserted, even at this hour. A skeleton crew monitors stations in the command center. Night shift security patrols nod as I pass. Nobody stops me or questions my destination, though I feel their curious glances. The Rossewyn witch. But not a prisoner.

I pause at a junction, catching sight of Talon speaking with Zoe at the far end of a corridor. Even at this distance, his presence affects me physically—a pull that defies logic, that makes me want to abandon my current mission and go to him instead. His shoulders are tense, his posture rigid as he argues with her in hushed tones. I wonder if they’re discussing me, if she’s warning him about getting too close to the witch they barely know.

The thought should sting, but instead, I find myself smiling. Let her warn him. It won’t make a difference—I saw it in his eyes yesterday, felt it in his touch. Whatever this is between us, it’s already too late to stop it.

I force myself to turn away, continuing toward the medical wing.

One thing at a time, Lila.

The wing is bathed in soft light, most beds empty. I find Hargen in a private room at the end, sitting up and scrolling through a tablet despite the early hour. He looks up when I enter, surprise flickering across his face.

“Lila.” My name sounds different in his mouth now that we’re not surrounded by Syndicate ears. More personal. More real. “It’s early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” I take the chair beside his bed, noting his improved color, the steadier rhythm of his breathing. “How’s the wound?”

“Almost healed.” He sets the tablet aside. “Whatever you did with that ritual… the doctors can’t explain the rate of cellular regeneration.”

“Magic rarely fits into medical textbooks.” I manage a small smile.

Awkward silence stretches between us. So many years together, yet we’ve never truly spoken freely. Never had a conversation without surveillance, without calculation, without the roles assigned to us.

“We need to talk about what happened,” I finally say. “During the ritual. What I saw. What I felt.”

His eyes meet mine, then slide away. “I know.”

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there?” I lean forward, studying his face. “Something about you. About us. Something you’ve been hiding.”

Hargen’s laugh is brittle. “Hard to hide anything when someone’s been inside your head.”

“You did.” I press harder. “I caught glimpses, fragments, but there was something… familiar. About you. About your memories.”

His expression shifts, resignation replacing resistance. “I wondered if you’d felt it. If you’d recognized…”

“Recognized what?”

He takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as the motion pulls at healing flesh. “We’re related, Lila. Distant cousins through your mother’s line.”

The words leave my head spinning. I sit back, mind spinning. “What?”

“My grandmother and your great-grandmother were half-sisters. The Rossewyn bloodline.” His voice drops lower. “Though mine is diluted, weak. Not enough to make me valuable as an asset.”

“You’re… you’re Rossewyn? Like me?” The implications cascade through my mind, pieces clicking into terrible clarity. “That’s why they chose you. Why the binding worked so well. Why the ritual worked when I healed you.”

He nods, relief evident in his expression now that the truth is out. “My grandmother taught me a few basics before she died. Enough for me to recognize what you were, what you could do. When the Syndicate found me, I was working as a medic. They… convinced me to undergo the binding procedure. To become your handler.”

“Convinced you.” My voice hardens. “You mean forced you.”

“At first, yes.” His eyes hold mine, unflinching. “They threatened my family. Later… I stayed because of you. Because someone needed to safeguard the extractions, to minimize the damage. Because if it wasn’t me, it would have been someone who didn’t care if they broke you.”

The truth of it settles in my chest, neither comforting nor condemning. Just real.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“They were always listening. Always watching.” His hand reaches for mine, then stops, uncertain. “After a while, it seemed kinder not to tell you. What good would knowing do except add another loss to your burden?”

Anger flares, bright and unexpected. “So you decided for me. What I should know. What would hurt me. Just like them.”

“No.” The word comes sharp, passionate. “Never like them. I did what I could within impossible constraints. Every time I slipped you extra medication. Every time I filed falsified reports to give you recovery days. It was all a risk that could have ended with both of us facing execution.”

The anger drains as quickly as it came, leaving bone-deep weariness in its wake. How can I blame him for impossible choices, for navigating the same cage that held me, just from a different angle?

“Family,” I whisper, testing the word. After so long without connections, without belonging, the concept feels foreign. “I have family.”

“Had.” Hargen’s correction is gentle. “Everyone else is gone. It’s just us now.”

“And Elena,” I say firmly.

He nods. “And Elena.”

Another silence falls, but different this time. Charged with shared history, with blood connection that explains the strange resonance between us that transcended the artificial binding.

“The ritual changed things,” I say finally. “Between us. I felt it.”

“Yes.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “The binding. It’s… realigned itself. Balanced. No longer handler and asset, just…” He hesitates.

“Connected.” I finish for him. “But differently now.”

He nods, something easing in his expression. “I never wanted to be your jailer, Lila. I hope you know that.”

“I do.” And I mean it. “But I need to know something.”

“Anything.”

“The feelings I saw. During the ritual.” I force myself to meet his eyes. “Were they real? Or part of the binding?”

Color rises in his cheeks. “Real. Always real. I’ve been worried about you, Lila. Worried you’ll leap into something you don’t understand.” His gaze shifts to my neck. “But it seems I’m too late.”

Heat floods my face. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?” His laugh holds no bitterness, just weary acceptance. “The way he looks at you… I’ve never seen a dragon so close to claiming. It’s rare, you know. Dragons and humans… witches or otherwise.”

My pulse quickens at his words. “What do you mean, claiming?”

“Dragons mate for life, Lila. When they find their true match, their fated mate, something instinctive takes over.” His eyes hold mine, no judgment in them. “The mark he left on you… It’s just the beginning.”

I touch the spot on my neck where Talon’s teeth had grazed, feeling a phantom tingle even though the visible mark has faded. “I barely know him.”

“Some connections transcend time.” Hargen’s smile is gentle, if sad. “You deserve happiness, Lila. Freedom to choose. That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

I squeeze his hand, surprised at how right it feels now that truth lies between us. Not the passionate spark I feel with Talon, but something equally valuable. Family. Blood. Connection to a past I thought lost forever.

“I need to ask a favor,” I say, the decision crystallizing as I speak. “Something that might go against Aurora protocols.”

Wariness enters his expression. “That didn’t take long.”

“I need access to the Shard.”

His eyes widen. “Lila—”

“Not to use it against anyone,” I clarify quickly. “To understand it. To connect with it on my terms, not the Syndicate’s. There are memories in it, Hargen. History. My history.”

“Viktor will—”

“Viktor doesn’t have a say in this.” I lean closer. “We’re talking about my birthright. My bloodline’s connection to an artifact they’ve locked away like it’s just another weapon. I need to understand what it is, what it means, before they try to use me to use it.”

Conflict wars in his expression. “It’s dangerous. Especially after what you did to save me. Your system is still recovering.”

“Which is why I need you there,” I press. “You can buffer me like you always have, just… as family this time. Not a handler.”

The distinction matters. To both of us.

He studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”

“Have you ever succeeded before?”

A reluctant smile tugs at his mouth. “Fair enough.”

“So you’ll help me?”

“Against my better judgment.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, moving carefully but with more strength than I expected. “But if we’re doing this, we do it my way. I’ll be there to pull you back if you go too deep.”

“Deal.”

“I heard them talking about it when we got here. The vault’s deep, three levels down,” he says, pulling on a sweater hanging by the bed. “Security’s tight.”

“Let me worry about that.” I’ve learned a thing or two about navigating restricted spaces.

The journey through the Outpost’s corridors is uneventful. The few people we encounter smile and nod but don’t stop us as I follow a pull that seems to come from within.

Come, Lila…

The call is irresistible. Even if Hargen hadn’t come with me, I’d be finding my way down here.

The vault level feels different, colder, the air heavy with protective wards that prickle against my skin. Rossewyn blood recognizes magic designed to contain it.

“There.” Hargen points to a reinforced door at the corridor’s end. “Triple-shielded, Viktor said. Magical and technological barriers.”

I approach slowly, palm outstretched, feeling the defenses like a physical presence. Complex, layered, but familiar somehow. The magical signature carries echoes of patterns I know intimately.

“These wards,” I murmur, tracing invisible currents in the air, “they’re like the ones at the Syndicate facility. Similar construction.”

“Aurora and the Syndicate share origins,” Hargen says quietly. “At the end of the day, they’re all dragons.”

I close my eyes and press my palms flat against the cool metal, feeling the barriers resist, then soften as they recognize my blood.

“What are you doing?” Hargen asks, tension evident in his voice.

“Introducing myself.” I push harder, not with physical strength but with magical intent. “These defenses were designed to keep the Shard contained, but also to allow access to those with the right… key.”

Something clicks, both physically and magically. The door slides open with barely a sound.

“That’s… not supposed to happen,” Hargen says, eyes wide.

“It’s magic,” I remind him with a smile before stepping into the vault.

The room beyond is smaller than I expected. Clinical. Sterile. At its center, suspended in a containment field much like the one at the Syndicate facility, pulses the Shard.

I move closer. The connection between us strengthens with proximity, warmth spreading through my veins, recognition humming in my blood.

“Be careful,” Hargen warns, following close behind.

“I’m fine.” I can’t tear my eyes from the Shard. It seems different here, away from the Syndicate’s influence. Cleaner somehow. More itself. “I need to touch it.”

“I’ll watch over you,” he says, positioning himself where he can catch me if I fall. “If it looks like you’re in trouble, I’m pulling you out.”

I nod, appreciating his concern without needing the protection. I’m done being monitored, measured, analyzed. This connection is mine. Natural. As it should be.

I hesitate, fingers hovering inches from the crystal, memories of forced extractions flashing through my mind. The pain. The violation. The helplessness.

“This is different,” I whisper, more to myself than to Hargen. “My terms.”

My fingers close around the crystal.

Power surges through me—not the violent invasion of the Syndicate’s sessions, but a warm flood like coming home after too long away. The Shard welcomes me. Belongs with me in ways the Syndicate never understood.

“How does it feel?” Hargen asks, watching my face intently.

“Warm. Alive.” I cradle the crystal in both hands, feeling its pulse. “There’s… knowledge in it. Memories. Not mine, but…”

“Blood memory,” Hargen supplies. “My grandmother spoke of it. The ancestral knowledge passed through Rossewyn blood.”

I close my eyes, surrendering to the gentle current of energy flowing between us. Images flicker behind my eyelids. Fragments at first, then clearer scenes. A woman with dark hair like mine, dressed in clothes from centuries past. A massive crystal heart pulsing with living fire, much larger than the Shard, suspended in a chamber deep beneath the earth.

“Lyria,” I breathe, the name rising from depths I didn’t know existed within me.

“The first Rossewyn witch to bond with a dragon,” Hargen says. “Your ancestor.”

The images sharpen. Lyria stands before the great crystal heart—the Heartstone in its complete form. Her hands caress its surface with familiarity.

“The Heartstone wasn’t meant for control,” I murmur, letting the knowledge flow through me. “It was a union. A covenant between dragon and witch. Lyria and Kael together.”

“The Dragon King and his witch,” Hargen confirms. “Before the betrayal.”

More images cascade: Kael’s death, Vaelric’s attempted theft, the Heartstone shattering. The Shard’s memory of being torn from its whole, carried away, hidden through centuries by those who understood its power. The Rossewyn witches, my ancestors, guarding the secret through generations.

As the memories flow, something else emerges—a deeper understanding of what happened between Lyria and Kael. Not just alliance, not just cooperation, but a bond so profound it changed them both. The dragon mark on her neck. The claiming. The completion.

“They’ve got it all wrong,” I say, opening my eyes to look at Hargen. “The Syndicate. Viktor. All of them. The Heartstone wasn’t a weapon. It was a bridge. A connection. When it broke…”

“Everything broke with it,” he finishes. “The factions. The endless fighting.”

The Shard pulses brighter in my hands, responding to this understanding.

And then—

Elena!

The vision slams into me so hard I stumble back a step. My daughter, no longer the child I lost but the woman I glimpsed during the Syndicate operation. She stands in what I recognize as Craven Towers, hands pressed against cool glass, looking out at the city below.

But it’s not just a vision of her. It’s her now. This moment. Her thoughts, her feelings ripple through the connection, shocking in their clarity.

She knows. She knows I’m alive. She’s looking for me.

“Lila?” Hargen’s voice seems distant through the roaring in my ears. “Your face… What do you see?”

“Elena.” Her name rips from my throat. “She knows about me. She’s searching.” Tears threaten, then fall unchecked. “My baby’s looking for me, Hargen.”

Before he can respond, the vault door slides open. Talon stands in the entrance, his expression shifting from suspicion to concern as he takes in the scene.

“What the hell is going on?” He strides forward, eyes fixed on the Shard glowing in my hands. “How did you—?”

“It’s okay,” I say, not releasing the crystal. “I needed to understand. To connect without Syndicate control.”

His gaze shifts between Hargen and me, tension evident in his posture. “You should have told me.”

“Would you have helped?” Hargen asks, his tone uncharacteristically challenging.

Something flickers across Talon’s face—doubt, perhaps. Acknowledgment.

“She needs this, Talon,” Hargen continues. “It’s her birthright. Her connection to understand.”

“And you’re, what? Supervising?” The edge in Talon’s voice carries more than professional concern. His eyes burn with something possessive as they move from Hargen to me. The dragon in him is closer to the surface than I’ve seen since our escape, scales shimmering beneath his skin, pupils narrowing to vertical slits.

“He’s family,” I say, the words still strange on my tongue. “Distant cousin. Rossewyn blood.”

Talon blinks, clearly surprised. “Blood relation? That’s why the binding worked so well.”

Hargen nods. “Diluted, but enough. The Syndicate knew. Used it.”

Understanding dawns in Talon’s expression, softening the hard edges of suspicion. “That’s why you stayed. Protected her.”

“One of the reasons.” Hargen’s eyes meet mine briefly, then return to Talon. “Not the only one.”

The acknowledgment hangs between them. Complicated, male, territorial in ways that would irritate me if I weren’t still reeling from the connection to Elena.

Talon moves closer to me, his body radiating heat I can feel even from several feet away. The dragon in him calls to something primal in me—something I saw in the Shard’s memories of Lyria and Kael.

“It doesn’t matter now,” I cut in, unable to waste time on their posturing. “I’ve seen Elena. Through the Shard. She knows I’m alive, Talon. She’s actively looking for me.”

That snaps his attention back fully. “Recently? You’re sure?”

“Right this minute.” I lift the Shard, its light pulsing faster with my excitement. “I can find her. Locate her precisely.”

“Viktor’s planning a diplomatic approach,” Talon reminds me. “Careful. Controlled.”

“Fuck that.” The vulgarity feels good on my tongue. “She’s my daughter. I’m not waiting for dragon politics to decide when I get to see her.”

Instead of the resistance I expect, a slow smile spreads across Talon’s face. Something fierce and approving that makes my breath catch.

“Never thought you would.” He moves closer, right beside me. His hand brushes a strand of hair from my face, the touch making my breath catch. “But rushing in half-cocked is suicide. The Cravens are powerful. Protective. And now there’s a phoenix in the mix. Not to mention two powerful factions after your blood. We need a plan.”

“We?” I challenge.

“You think I’m letting you go alone?” His voice drops lower, meant for my ears alone. “I meant what I said. What I showed you. You’re mine now, Lila Ross. Where you go, I go.” His fingers trail down my neck, making my pulse race. “We’ll find your daughter.”

The possessiveness in his tone should terrify me after decades of being owned. Instead, it sparks something molten in my core. This is different. This is claiming that goes both ways.

“I’m not yours,” I whisper back, leaning closer. “Not yet. But I could be. When I’m ready.”

His pupils dilate, a low growl escaping his throat. For a moment, I think he might kiss me right there, Hargen’s presence be damned. And I want him to, God help me. But he restrains himself, drawing back with visible effort.

Hargen clears his throat. “For what it’s worth, a direct approach might actually work better than Viktor’s diplomatic dance. The Cravens respect strength. Decisiveness.”

“Three-way assault,” Talon says, understanding immediately. “Magical, tactical, and intel.”

“Exactly,” Hargen agrees. “Lila’s connection to locate and access. Your combat experience to protect. My knowledge of the Syndicate’s likely moves.”

I look between them, these two men who’ve entered my life from opposite directions but converged on the same point. The tension between them remains, but something new emerges alongside it—respect, perhaps. Shared purpose.

“So we’re doing this,” I say, not quite a question.

“We’re doing this,” Talon confirms, his hand finding mine, fingers intertwining with mine around the Shard. The connection between us intensifies with the contact, his dragon energy merging with my witch blood, creating something new and powerful. Just like Lyria and Kael. Just like the memory I glimpsed in the Shard.

“If we go against orders,” Hargen adds, but he’s already moving toward the door, checking the corridor. “Viktor will have our heads.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.” Talon’s grin turns feral, dragon gleaming behind human features. His thumb traces over my palm, the touch seemingly casual but igniting sparks beneath my skin.

I meet his gaze, finding more there than just determination or desire. Something deeper, more permanent. Something ancient and powerful, waiting for us to acknowledge it fully.

I close my fingers more tightly around the Shard, feeling its power. Suddenly I realize that I hold my destiny in my own hands. Not the Syndicate’s asset. Not the Aurora Collective’s weapon. Just Lila Ross, witch, mother, free.

And soon, perhaps, mate to a dragon who looks at me like I’m his entire world.

“I’m coming, Elena,” I whisper to the crimson light. “Hold on, baby. I’m coming.”