Page 22 of The Monster's Daughter

“Uh,” she finally mutters, sliding it awkwardly into her belt. “Guess I’m officially in the family now. Mazel tov.”

Sorena raises a brow. “What does that mean?”

Bella waves her hand. “Never mind.”

We pack in silence that night. Supplies, medkits, the old blade. My parents sit close, their shoulders touching, watching us prepare to walk back into the fire.

Bella breaks the quiet first. “What if we don’t make it?”

I pause, the strap of my pack half-buckled. Her voice isn’t sarcastic this time. It’s small. Real.

I turn to her. Let the silence hang heavy before I answer.

“Then we don’t,” I say. My voice rumbles low, steady. “But we do it together.”

Her green eyes meet mine. And there’s no wall left between us.

CHAPTER 15

BELLA

The mountains chew me up one step at a time. Jagged stone under my boots, thin air slicing into my lungs, wind clawing at every bit of exposed skin. I’m sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. My thighs scream, my shoulders ache, and my lips are cracked raw from the cold.

But I don’t stop.

Because every time I think about it—every time I consider plopping my ass down on the scree and refusing to budge—I catch Kage glancing back at me. Not long looks, not anything sappy. Just quick flicks of silver eyes, like he’s checking to make sure I’m still there, still real.

And gods help me, I feel the same.

I won’t admit it out loud, of course. Hell no. But there’s this thing tethering us together now, invisible and tight, wound thicker every time he hauls me out of danger or I patch his scaled hide back up. Emotional scar tissue turned into rope. And if I’m honest—if I let myself think it—I don’t hate it.

Maybe I even… want it.

Which is exactly when the universe decides to remind me I’m not allowed to have nice things.

My comms gear, dead for days, spits static against my ear. A crackle. A hiss.

“Bella…”

My blood runs cold.

I yank the headset, fumbling with the tuner, trying to isolate the frequency. The voice is faint, warped, but it’s there. Not random static. Not some glitch. Someone—or something—issaying my name.

It repeats, shifting pitch, crawling under my skin. “Bella… Bella…”

I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise. The sound isn’t right. It’s jagged, fractured, like an echo in a cave—but intelligent. Moving.

I don’t tell Kage. My stomach knots, but I keep the gear pressed to my ear as we trudge forward.

We crest a ridge and find it: a derelict transmission tower jutting from the cliffs like a broken tooth. Half its panels are twisted, its spire bent, but the core looks intact. I head straight for it, heart thudding.

“Going scavenger on me?” Kage rumbles, watching as I drop my pack and dig out the tools.

“Not scavenger,” I mutter, prying open the access panel with stiff fingers. “Salvager. Big difference. I can piggyback an evac call through this, if I can wake the array. Might not be pretty, but it’ll scream loud enough to get noticed.”

He crouches beside me, bulk looming, but says nothing. Just watches my hands move over corroded wires and frozen relays.

The static hum builds again, bleeding into the tower’s speakers this time.