Page 35

XANDER

Eve wasn’t at all what I expected.

I’d been trying to figure her magic out for days, and she’d struggled to spark even a single ember, yet here she was, sparring with Ragnar and lighting up like a bonfire.

What was I missing? Every time I thought I had her figured out, she changed the rules—and it made my skin crawl. I hated not knowing the answers, so I could only imagine how this was making her feel.

Orion was convinced, but I still had my doubts.

Sure, she had the potential to be an incredibly powerful fire elemental, but a Phoenix?

We’d witnessed the last Phoenix had died on Titan, sealing the Divide and taking that magic into the beyond.

I’d agonized for years over my role in her death, but there really had been no other option.

If we had known there was another, it might have changed things, might have made me act differently.

It made no sense that there could be someone on earth who would fill that void, and I wouldn’t believe it until we had proof. Because if we were wrong? We were sending her to her death for nothing.

If Eve felt the pressure of this weighing down on her, she didn’t show it. She stood there, arms crossed tight like she was holding herself together with sheer force of will, staring Ragnar down as if he hadn’t spent years perfecting the kind of glare that could cut a grown man in half.

The porch creaked under Ragnar’s heavy boots as he shouted at us to gather around.

The man was unpredictable on the best of days.

Losing Titan, losing Columba… it had wrecked him, though he’d never admit it out loud.

And if Eve really was the next Phoenix? I could understand why he was so irked.

That reminder was painful enough for me, but for Ragnar, it must have been like knives to the gut.

Orion, on the other hand, was the opposite.

He gravitated toward Eve like he couldn’t help himself.

His belief in her was starting to become a problem.

Not because he was growing attached, but because it might be the thing that broke him if he was wrong.

Everyone around me was unraveling, and I worried about what would happen if we failed.

I followed them to the circle Ragnar had formed.

Eve stood near Orion, her shoulders brushing his as he gave her some last-minute reassurance about what teleportation would feel like.

He adjusted the edge of her coat—a gesture that seemed more soothing than practical—muttering something I couldn’t hear.

Whatever it was made her laugh, a quiet sound that shouldn’t have hit me the way it did.

“Everyone take hold,” Ragnar barked, extending his arm like it was an order, not a request.

I stepped up without hesitation, gripping his forearm. Eve hesitated, her gaze flicking to Ragnar before she stepped into place beside me and placed her fingers on his arm. I caught the slight flinch he gave, but I thanked the heavens when he didn’t snap at her.

Then came the pull, like being yanked through a vacuum with no air to breathe and no ground beneath your feet. No matter how many times we’d done it, teleportation was never pleasant.

When the world slammed back into focus, we were standing in a narrow alleyway.

Trash was piled along the brick walls—broken bottles, soggy cardboard, fast food wrappers emitting a stench that clung in the air.

The faint hum of a streetlight buzzed overhead, the weak orange glow barely cutting through the shadows cast by the tall walls.

Eve stumbled beside me, her knees buckling slightly as she released Ragnar’s arm. Orion was already there, his hand around her waist, steadying her before she could fall.

“You good?” he asked, leaning in close, his grin as casual as ever.

Eve nodded, looking a little nauseous. “Yeah… just give me a second.”

Orion chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She swatted at him, her cheeks dusted with pink blush.

Orion had always been effortless with people, always the one to make them laugh, to draw them in.

Watching him do it so easily now—it left me feeling like I was falling behind in a race I hadn’t even realized I’d entered.

“Orion, scout the apartment block,” I said. “Ragnar, front door. Eve and I will cover the exit.”

Orion gave me a mock salute. As he passed me, he shot a look back at her before leveling me with the most serious look I’d ever seen on his face. “Stay close, yeah?”

I nodded tightly as he slipped up the fire escape and disappeared into the shadows.

Ragnar didn’t wait for anyone, disappearing into the building without so much as a glance back.

The moment the door swung shut behind him, Eve turned to me, her brow furrowed. “Really? Guard duty?”

“Guard duty,” I repeated. “Not everything has to be glamorous.”

She huffed, crossing her arms and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. That spark of defiance was there again, simmering beneath the surface. Even now—scared out of her mind—she was still fighting to push forward, to do more. It was reckless, yes, but it was also… something else.

“You’re handling all this better than I expected.” My tone was casual, neutral, though I watched Eve out of the corner of my eye like a hawk.

She glanced at me, one brow arched. “Was I supposed to do something different? Lie down and cry, maybe?”

I shrugged. “It would be understandable.”

Her lips quirked, almost like she wanted to laugh but thought better of it and sighed.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the daema’s new favorite chew toy. Rolling with it is all I’ve got.”

Her words were matter-of-fact, but there was an edge to them—a crack in the armor she was trying so hard to keep in place. I wanted to tell her she was doing better than that. But the words stuck in my throat, too soft for a world this cruel.

“And your mom never left you any clues?” I asked, keeping my tone even as I studied her profile. “Do you ever remember if something felt…off?”

Eve frowned, her brows drawing together as she turned the question over in her head. “Like what?”

“You tell me.”

She bit her lip, clearly searching for an answer, before exhaling softly.

“I don’t know… I guess I always felt unsettled, like I didn’t belong anywhere, but who doesn’t feel that way sometimes?

” She hesitated for a moment, then added quietly, “I mean, nothing that stood out at the time. I’ve never been burned before, and I’ve worked in a kitchen for years. Guess I missed that giant red flag.”

I nodded, cataloging her words. She was a walking paradox. Terrified and vulnerable one moment, defiant and stubborn the next. She wasn’t the enemy, I knew that with absolute certainty, but she was a mystery. One I had to figure out.

Her eyes met mine for a breath too long. There was something behind them—fear, yes, but something else. Trust. Unspoken and undeserved, but there just the same. And gods help me, I wanted to earn it.

A sharp crash echoed from the stairwell, breaking the spell. My attention snapped to the building, muscles tensing.

The door beside us exploded open, splinters of wood scattering across the alley as the daema tore through it. His gray skin gleamed faintly in the dim light, muscles coiled tight like a spring.

“Catch the fucker!” Ragnar’s roar rang out from somewhere inside, but the daema was already running.

Directly towards Eve.

I shifted, but he collided with her before I could close the distance, sending them both to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs. She screamed, hands flying up in a desperate attempt to push him away.

If I’d blinked, I might have missed it. Flames erupted from her palms, small sparks at first, but they roared to life faster than I’d ever seen.

The fire spread across the daema’s torso, licking up its arms and chest in seconds.

The creature shrieked, a high-pitched wail cutting through the alley as he scrambled to get free, but Eve’s magic wasn’t letting go.

“Eve!” I shouted, surging forward. The fire was spreading too fast, the heat biting at the edges of my skin even from a few feet away.

I summoned my magic, calling on the ice to douse the flames, resulting in a violent hiss of steam and smoke. The daema slumped backward, its charred, smoldering body still groaning faintly. Alive, but barely.

“I had it under control, I swear!” She scrambled to get the words out, and I fought the urge to laugh.

“You’re like a magnet for these creatures, darling,” I said, the words slipping from beneath the icy mask I’d worn for longer than I could remember. I quickly scolded myself, forcing my face to compose itself once more.

I held out a hand, and she accepted it, getting back on her feet. Her skin brushed mine—hot, alive, vibrating with something I couldn’t name. I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. Ragnar barreled out of the building with Orion close on his heels, and I quickly dropped the contact.

“What the fuck was that?” Ragnar bellowed, his voice reverberating off the alley walls. His eyes blazed as they locked onto Eve, his fury radiating like a physical force. “I said catch him, not barbecue him!”

“He ran at me!” she shot back, her voice higher than usual. “What was I supposed to do?”

Ragnar took a step closer, his glare sharp enough to cut steel. “You think that’s an excuse?”

“Gods be damned, that was hot,” Orion reached for her, looping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. ”What did I tell you guys? She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“We need to get inside,” I said, if only to distract myself from their close contact.

I had no clue why it was suddenly bothering me.

It wasn’t just that she smiled at him. It was the way she relaxed around him.

Like she trusted him without hesitation.

And I… I was still the man keeping her at arm’s length.

Ragnar shot one last glare at Eve before stomping past me, muttering something under his breath. He grabbed the creature off the ground with a rough pull, hoisting the limp body like it weighed nothing.

Eve hesitated, her arms wrapping tightly around herself, but Orion tugged her forward with a low chuckle.

“You’re like a human-sized bug zapper, Sunshine,” he teased, his grin easy and unshakable.

Eve groaned, but I caught the faintest twitch of her lips—a smile she was trying too hard to hide. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Not a chance,” Orion said.

I lingered a few steps behind, letting them move ahead and swallowing the sour taste that had bubbled up my throat. He hadn’t been the one who’d saved her this time, but even still, she was drawn to him. Just like they all were.

I let out a slow breath, forcing my attention forward. This wasn’t the time for… whatever that was.

I couldn’t afford to get distracted for a moment.

My men needed me to be stronger than this, to put our mission over my own well-being and ensure we all survived whatever came at us next.

But every time I seemed to look at Eve, that mission became less clear, like she was fogging up the glass with every breath she took.

I followed the others inside, but the unease lingered.

I so desperately wanted to prove Orion wrong, if only so I could dispel this irrational fear that I might lose her.

She was steadily pushing her way into our lives with her quick remarks and dry humor, haunting my waking thoughts and seeping into my sleepless nights.

I shouldn’t be letting my thoughts get so tangled. I needed to think clearly, not distracting myself with thoughts of her. Because if she was the Phoenix? Then I didn’t know which terrified me more—losing her to that fate, or letting myself hope there was still time to change it.