Chapter 21
Tess
Beneath my boots, the once-muddy trail began to dry, though the persistent squelch reminded me it hadn’t fully forgiven the storm. I felt every ache in my body—my legs heavy from the uphill climb, my muscles protesting from the earlier battle, and my mind burdened by more than I had space to process.
As evening fell, we stumbled upon a cave as the forest thinned into rocky outcrops. The path leading up was steep but manageable, and the yawning, dark opening of the cave promised—at the very least—dry shelter. Raze immediately clapped his hands together.
“Alright, team! Base camp secured. Ten out of ten for ambiance. Maybe an eight for hospitality, I don’t know yet. Gotta check the menu first,” he quipped, gesturing to the empty black void inside.
“Congratulations,” Kane drawled, the faintest edge of sarcasm in his voice. “You’ve just volunteered to scout for wildlife threats.”
Raze gave him a mock bow. “Your icy majesty, I live to serve.” With a flourish, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving Kane scowling after him.
“Can he ever take anything seriously?” Kane muttered, as if talking to himself more than anyone else.
“Maybe he does,” I said, adjusting my glasses. “Just not in the way you'd prefer.”
Mason glanced back at us from the cave’s entrance. “It looks safe enough. No tracks or recent signs of use. We should grab what firewood we can before it gets too dark.”
“Impending rabbit stew on the horizon!” Raze’s disembodied voice called faintly from deeper inside the cave. “Scout reports no deadly monsters, just bad lighting. And no free snacks yet—tragic.”
Kane pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something likely sharp and cutting, but I stepped past him, trying to mask my exhaustion under a layer of determined practicality.
I moved past him, steadying myself with a deep inhale. The fatigue clawing at my bones begged for rest, but I shoved it aside. One foot in front of the other—that’s what mattered right now.
The fire crackled as the shadows danced along the jagged cave walls. It didn’t take long for us to gather the dry branches and underbrush scattered around the area, and now the world outside had surrendered into darkness. Raze returned triumphantly, as promised, with two rabbits slung over his shoulder and a grin that stretched ear to ear.
“What can I say?” he began, tossing the rabbits onto the cloth Mason had spread out. “I’m a man of many talents. Ladies, gentlemen, and surly fae—you’re welcome.”
Mason, quiet and efficient, began skinning the rabbits without a word, his movements fluid and precise.
I helped Mason prepare the rabbits, retrieving herbs from my pack that I'd gathered during our journey. The familiar ritual of seasoning the meat steadied my hands, and soon the enticing aroma of roasting game filled the cave. We ate in comfortable silence, accompanied only by the crackling fire and the occasional drip of water from the cave ceiling. After Mason had carefully buried the bones outside and we'd finished the last morsels, Kane cleared his throat.
"We need a plan. We've got about four hours of walking left to reach the Guild."
Kane's gaze flicked my way, studying me with unsettling intensity. "We'll start early and finish the last leg with a few hours to spare. The forest isn't safe—last night's ambush proved that. We need a watch schedule. I propose ninety-minute shifts. Tess, you'll take the first watch since you're already awake and alert. Raze can take the second. Mason and I will cover the remaining hours before dawn."
I tilted my head at him. “What about you, Kane? Aren’t you tired?”
His sharp gaze flicked to me, and for a moment I thought he might actually give me a real answer. Instead, he said simply, “I’ll be fine. Fae require less rest.”
“Shocking,” Raze interjected, his smirk back in full force. “Does that mean you’ll spend your off-hours sitting stoically in the dark, perfecting your internal ‘strategic chessboard’ monologue?”
Kane’s glare didn’t shift, though his voice turned even icier. “Rest assured, Ulrich, I will spend exactly zero seconds thinking about you.”
“Very diplomatic,” Raze muttered with mock sincerity. “I’m so touched.”
Mason’s intervention came before another spat could brew between them. “Enough,” he said simply, his dark eyes settling on me. “You sure you’re up for the first watch, Tess? It’s been… a lot today.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “First watch. I’ll wake Raze when it’s time.”
The night had settled into a still, heavy silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hoot of an owl. I sat just outside the cave, dagger in hand, the weight of it grounding me.
My shoulder throbbed faintly, a dull reminder of the earlier fall. Kane’s precise hands had bandaged it, but Mason’s quiet strength as he argued against my stubbornness—again—lingered in my mind. He’d carried me like I was something precious, his arms unyielding yet careful. I’d tried to protest, but the look in his eyes had silenced me.
I exhaled, my breath clouding in the cool night air. A year ago, I would’ve laughed if someone had told me I’d be sitting in a forest, guarding a cave, training to become a Dragon Rider alongside a group of supernatural beings.
Back then, I was just Tess Whittaker, librarian extraordinaire, with a knack for finding misplaced books and a penchant for losing my keys. Now I was... well, still Tess Whittaker, but with a lot more scars and a dragon who occasionally gave me cryptic life advice.
The thought of Thalon brought a small smile to my lips. Even when he wasn’t physically present, I could feel the faint hum of our bond, like a thread tied between us, tugging gently at the edges of my awareness. He was somewhere nearby, probably hunting or watching over us from the skies. The thought was comforting, a reminder that I wasn’t entirely alone in this strange, magical world.
A soft sound from inside the cave drew my attention. I turned, my gaze falling on Mason’s large, sleeping form near the entrance. He was lying close to the fire, its dying embers casting a warm glow over his features. Even in sleep, his body was tense, angled protectively toward the cave’s opening. Toward me.
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “Focus, Tess,” I muttered under my breath. “You’ve got a watch to keep, not a brooding gargoyle to ogle.”
I shifted my gaze away from Mason, my cheeks warming with embarrassment despite the chill in the air. It wasn't the first time I'd caught myself staring at him when I should've been focused. There was something about the quiet strength he emanated that drew me in.
My thoughts wandered, drifting toward Kane. He was on the opposite side of the cave, lying with his back against the wall, legs stretched out long in front of him. Even in repose, he looked like he’d marched straight out of some fantasy novel—his sharp features lit by the faint glow of the fire, his white hair falling across his forehead, casting its own shadows on his pale skin.
Kane was a different kind of magnetism. Where Mason was all steady warmth and quiet empathy, Kane was precision and cool control, with an edge that hinted at something deeper.
I frowned, thinking about his kindness earlier that day. It seemed, at times, like he kept himself carefully walled off from everyone, and yet there was this… energy between us. Neither of us said it aloud, but I felt it—this unspoken crackling tension, a gravitational pull that I barely understood. And maybe I didn’t want to. Just thinking about it made my pulse quicken, and my hands tightened on the hilt of my dagger.
After ninety minutes had passed, Raze stirred from his spot near the fire, the soft crunch of dirt under his boots signaling his approach. Without a word, he sank to a crouch beside me, his movements deliberate, the firelight playing off the sharp angles of his face. Shadows stretched long behind him, merging with the dark expanse beyond the cave.
“Go rest,” he said, his voice low and steady, more a suggestion than a command. His onyx eyes glinted in the flickering light, the weight of his gaze calm yet assured. “I’ll take over the watch.”
The dagger in my lap felt heavier as I turned it over in my hands, the hesitation knotting my shoulders. “I’m fine,” I said, the words automatic and unconvincing even to myself.
Raze raised a single eyebrow, his sharp features softening into something like dry amusement. “Your eyelids disagree, librarian,” he replied, though there was no bite in it. “I’ll hear anything that gets too close. My senses are sharper at night.” His tone was matter-of-fact, a reminder rather than an attempt to coax.
As much as I wanted to argue, I couldn’t deny the logic. I was exhausted, plain and simple.
“Fine,” I relented, grudgingly pushing myself to my feet. My legs protested with the stiffness of a body pushed too far, but I steadied myself, meeting Raze’s calculating yet patient expression. “Wake me if anything feels off.”
His lips quirked into the faintest shadow of a smile, gone as quickly as it appeared. “You have my word.”
I hesitated only a moment before moving, stepping over the uneven ground until I reached Mason’s side. I didn't think he'd mind sharing his warmth. And to be honest, I felt safer next to him. The fire’s warmth flickered over us, casting shifting shadows along the stone walls. Slowly, I lowered myself beside him, pressing my back against his solid form. The steady rise and fall of his breaths were a quiet reassurance in the dark.
For the first time in hours, my body leaned toward something resembling rest. My eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion finally dragging at the edges of my consciousness, and I let myself lean into it.
The sound wove its way into my dreams at first, blending with the hazy edges of sleep. A low, guttural noise, distant and unformed. My mind tried to fold around it, dismiss it as the cave settling—stone shifting against itself. But then it came again, deeper this time, edged with something raw.
My eyelids fluttered, drowsiness clinging to me even as awareness crept in. The noise repeated, rough and uneven, dragging me the rest of the way into wakefulness. My body tensed, instinct sharpening my senses. I lay still for a breath, listening, and then I placed it.
Mason.
He was restless, his massive frame fidgeting. His fists clenched, his breathing coming in uneven, ragged gasps. Another growl rumbled deep in his throat, and my stomach twisted. I recognized the sound not as anger but anguish. Whatever haunted him now wasn’t rooted in reality.
“Mason…” I whispered his name, my voice cautious as I propped myself up on one elbow. He didn’t respond, still trapped in whatever nightmare had tightened its grip around him. A faint whimper escaped his lips, and it tore through me like a sharp blade.
The rocky floor beneath me was unforgiving, but I hardly noticed; my focus was entirely on Mason.
“Mason,” I said again, this time softer. Steady. Patient. “It’s me. Tess. You’re safe—it was just a nightmare.”
His gaze latched onto mine as recognition cut through the haze. For a moment, the deep, animal panic in his eyes felt like staring into a depth I wasn’t sure I could fathom. But then, slowly, haltingly, the panic eased. He exhaled a rough, shuddering breath before lying back down, the tension in his massive frame unwinding by inches. “Sorry,” he muttered, his voice raw and broken. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Don’t,” I interrupted, my hand lingering on his shoulder before I let it fall away. The heat of his skin burned on my palm long after I’d moved it. “You don’t owe me an apology.”
I hesitated, then softened my voice. “Do you want to talk about them?”
For a moment, the silence stretched. It wasn’t the comfortable, companionable kind we sometimes fell into—no, this was taut, unsettling. I waited, recognizing Mason’s quiet deliberation, the way he always held back.
“The nightmares… they only come back when... someone I care about is in danger,” he said finally, his voice quieter but heavy with something raw. He exhaled sharply again, shaking his head. “It’s like my head knows even when I try to ignore it. And tonight—earlier—when... when you were hurt…” His voice cracked, breaking on the last word, and he cleared his throat roughly. “It’s like I’m back there again.”
My chest tightened in response, the urge to reach for him—to anchor him—nearly overwhelming.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced my voice to steady. “Mason... whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“You should know. You deserve to know what happened.” His bitter laugh carried no real humor, only something raw and worn down. “They... always come back. Always remind me of the things I couldn’t stop.” His gaze flickered toward me, shadowed and unreadable. “You don’t know what I’ve done... who I had to be.”
I didn’t understand why he thought I deserved to know this, why now—but I would listen. I owed that much to my best friend, to the years we’d lost.
The fire cast fleeting shadows across his features—a face that looked carved from stone, yet too human in its fragility in this moment.
“They took us the same day,” he said, his words heavy, each one landing like a hammer. “Kali and me. She was only a baby.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, the muscles of his jaw flexing beneath the pressure.
I felt my stomach twist, but I didn’t interrupt.
“She was so small,” Mason continued, his gaze dark and far-off, as though he were staring at some horrible scene only he could see. “They didn’t even want her, at first. The people who… who took us. They wanted me—boys, they said, lasted longer in the pits. But when I fought back, hit one of them, all it took was one look at her for them to realize they could use her to control me. And they did.” His voice dropped lower. “Every fucking day.”
The fire snapped, the sound sharp in the silence, and Mason flinched almost imperceptibly. His hands clenched into fists on his thighs, the firelight catching the deep grooves of his dark skin, a roadmap of old scars.
“They put me in the ring my first night there,” he continued. “Told me to fight or they’d sell her off to someone worse.” His voice nearly cracked, and he steadied it with effort so visible it hurt to watch. “They didn’t have to explain what that meant. I was thirteen. I understood enough.”
He leaned forward slightly, his broad shoulders hunched as though the memory itself weighed him down. “You think you know what it feels like to lose a fight?” A bitter snort escaped him. “It’s not the pain from the broken ribs or split skin or when your teeth feel loose in your mouth. It’s that every time you drop to your knees, you’re asking yourself whether it’s her life or yours.”
His voice broke then, raw with anger and something deeper—something like grief. “And they made me choose that again, and again, and again.”
I had to swallow hard against the ache that swelled in my throat. The thought of him, young, lost, and alone, forced to fight for his sister of all people, sent a blade straight into my chest.
“I fought them for her,” he rasped. “Every single one they threw at me. Wolves. Fae. Vampires. Things I didn’t even know had names. I learned to kill because I had no other choice. And I told myself, if I could just keep winning, they wouldn’t sell her—” His voice shattered, and he pressed a shaking hand to his forehead, grinding the heel of his palm into it like he could push the memory away.
“They used her against me every time I got too strong,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now but no less tense. “Any time I mouthed off or fought back, they’d hurt her to remind me who was really in control. They’d take her out of the cages and parade her in front of me, sometimes with bruises that told me what would happen if I ever stopped killing for them.”
My stomach churned. “Mason…”
“It’s fine,” he muttered, though his tone undercut the word. “She’s alive. I fought for her. Did what I had to. But every moment I fought for us, they broke something else I thought I could protect.” His dark gaze flicked up to meet mine. “Every fight felt like a choice. Her life or mine. Her pain or mine.”
I couldn’t stop myself any longer. I reached for him, tentatively, resting my hand on his forearm. The rock-solid muscles beneath softened just slightly under my palm. I didn’t speak yet—there was nothing I could say that would undo what had been done to him, what he’d been forced to become—but I wanted him to feel more than his own rage. More than his own grief.
“You made it. You got her out. You both survived.”
He sagged under my touch, just slightly, and the room felt smaller. Warmer. “I’m scared of what’s left of me,” he admitted in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “And I don’t know if there’s enough of me to get us through this.”
“There is,” I said without missing a beat. “I see it—you’re more than the broken parts, Mason. All of you survived. That means something.”
There were no words between us after that. None were needed. I shifted closer again, lying down fully on my side, and reached up tentatively to pull him forward. His arm came around me like a slow, uncertain wave before it finally anchored itself to my back, enveloping me in his warmth as he lay facing me.
The quiet filled with our breathing. His shifted gradually, slowing to match mine.
“Thank you,” he murmured against the edge of my hair, his voice low but steady. “For staying.”
“Always,” I whispered back, feeling the heat of him, the solid strength of his hold—a foundation, a promise.