Page 63 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn

My voice is more grating and intense than I intend for it to be. But shit is about to escalate, and I’ll be damned if we move forward without getting her healed.

She doesn’t fight me, and the hand on her bleeding hip glows blue; Jane continuously glances toward her father. Her hazel eyes are stuck in shock, staring blankly ahead like those who suffer fromhorrors.

That beast in my chest that’s overly protective is eager to get Jane far away from here; to gift her those nights of safety that helped her heal. Her eyes close to concentrate, strands of auburn hair stuck to her face. The bleeding stops rather quickly, probably indicative of being mostly surface level. My arm is stillacross her, some of Jane’s weight leaning into me, and I’m sure she’s overcome with exhaustion.

Get her out of here.

I glance up at Basilisk, whose golden eyes watch with immense curiosity. “What path did you take to get here?” I ask, just to confirm it.

“The grapnel.”

My eyes widen, even if it’s obvious with what door they came out of, even if I could feel that’s where they’d go; it’s still a dangerous fucking path. “The molgrin infest those tunnels.”

Jane’s ear nearly twitches at that detail, like the name gives life to an awful memory. I grip her shoulder tighter, almost pulling her into me.

“We’re aware,” Basilisk comments, leaning on a wall with his arms crossed.

When Jane’s eyes open once more when her injuries are healed, she nearly bolts to her father in a desperate attempt to begin tending to his wounds, but I hold onto as I say, “Heal what you can, and once it’s not life-threatening, we’re moving.”

When she nods, I release her as she hurries across the street to the Scorpion, to which I’m not far behind. Ritter motions to the bleeding wound in his shoulder. “Just stop the bleeding, honey. I’ll be fine—I’m okay.”

Without hesitation, Jane’s wrists are already glowing blue as she reaches for his wound.

A few gasps pervade, and I glance over to see all the commoners of the street are focused on the spiked head. Matthias’s mask slowly slides off his face, having completely hardened, an expression of horror revealed as the mask hits the ground. The gold decorations melt into a puddle underneath, only to harden into a molten mess.

Fascinating.

I’ve never seen that in person. We’re told the mask is completely useless once we die.

“I’ll be okay. I promise,” Ritter reiterates, pulling me back as he reassures Jane, the bleeding indeed slowing. I can tell it means everything to her to be able to save a parent this time, and it’s probably for the best that he actually looks like himself rather than Ern.

Giving them my back, Anya’s energy grazes against my powers as I focus on searching where she approaches from; I spot her white horse among the crowd that parts with more effort than when I stormed in, as if merely touching Anya might kill them.

I can see now why everything in me screamed to send her. When we caught wind of the bridge being destroyed, and that more than one Zenith was confronting us, I knew there was no point in Jane escaping the Undercroft if what awaited her on the other side were blades.

Which meant sending Anya ahead to scout out the best path to Tempest’s ship, while I moved as fast as I could to reach her to avoid getting stuck here.

She surveys the scene until she’s right up on me, pulling on her horse’s reins, looking down. “We have to leave,now. Blackwell has sent everyone, and he’s manning his ships. There’sonepath that can take us to Tempest without issue, but it’s a matter of time before it’s overcrowded with their fucking henchmen.” Anya’s usual resolute determination is shaken when she spots Matthias’s ugly head. “Did you kill him?”

The murder of a Zenith isn’t going to go over well.

“Jane did,” I answer, glancing at her as she removes her hands to examine her father’s wound.

Anya snorts, surprise washing over her. “Great. Now she’ll have a real bounty on her head.” The fleeting humor fades, her face deadpanning as she dismounts, the stirrups clinking. “Weneed to leave the horses, too. We’re going to take the cliff’s boardwalks—oh.”

Anya’s focus draws me to see that among the bodies are two ofmymen. My priorities shift as I move to their side, glancing at both their faces; their eyes are wide, unblinking, and jaws slacked, carelessly open. Their vibrations in this world are silent. “They died quickly, sir,” one of mine solemnly says, who was already standing near them.

Mads and Silas.

We don’t have time.

Guilt strains my focus, knowing I have to make this call. “Take their effects, leave the bodies.”

With a whistle, every one of my people focus on me, and I motion for Michael, who hurries over. I lean toward his ear to speak quietly, “We’re taking the cliff boardwalks, down to the Underdeck, so we can board the Sea Wolf. Start with Rogers and tell him to get Phantom out of this city and up north.”

In a swift series of movements, another man who lives as a stablemaster back in my lands approaches Phantom; the man that will now tend to my horse while I cannot. Anytime I’m away from my war horse, Rogers is with him. I touch the nose of the black beast, looking him in the eyes, an odd sense of guilt pinching my heart to think I very well could die and leave him without a master. He’s a stallion who hates bowing to anyone but me.

I understand him, in that way. Fuck authority.