Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
T hora’s fingers stilled in her hair. “You saw all that?”
“Fragments. Impressions.” He took a step toward her, then stopped when she tensed. “I felt how determined you were. How you refused to give up even when everything seemed stacked against you.”
She studied him, wariness in her amber eyes. “I saw your twentieth birthday party. Right before your parents...” She trailed off.
“Before the accident,” he finished for her.
“Your mother gave you a pocket watch. Your father’s.” Her gaze flickered to his nightstand, where that same watch lay. “You still wind it every night before bed.”
The accuracy of her observation caught him off guard. It was a private ritual he performed without thinking—a way to maintain connection with his father. “You saw that too.”
“You miss them.” Her voice softened. “But you hide it because you think your sister and grandmother need you to be strong.”
Something in his chest constricted painfully. No one had ever articulated that unspoken burden he carried. Not his closest friends, not even Bryn, who knew him better than anyone.
As they stood in uncomfortable silence, the tether suddenly flared bright, illuminating the room with golden light. It pulsed once, twice, then dissolved into thousands of glittering particles that faded into nothingness.
They both stared at the empty space between them.
“It’s gone,” Thora said, her voice containing equal parts relief and confusion.
“The spell ran its course,” Artair murmured.
The absence of the golden connection left a strange hollowness in his chest. His bear stirred restlessly, displeased by the separation. He hadn’t realized how quickly he’d grown accustomed to their forced proximity until it vanished.
Thora flexed her fingers, testing the newfound freedom. “Good. I can get back to my bounty hunt now.” She gathered her clothes from the previous day. “And you can get back to your corporate empire.”
Artair watched her, noting the relief in her posture but also a hint of uncertainty in her movements. For nearly eighteen hours, they’d had a clear directive—stay connected. Now they faced choices. Distance or closeness. Separation or continuation.
His bear’s preference rang clear in his mind: Keep her close.
Before he could frame a response, the bedroom door burst open. Jash rushed in, glasses slightly askew, face flushed with urgency.
“Artair, there’s—” His words cut off as he registered the scene: Thora clutching clothes to her chest, Artair shirtless, the rumpled bed between them. “Oh! I didn’t realize?—”
“What is it, Jash?” Artair interrupted, not bothering to correct his friend’s misinterpretation.
Jash pushed his glasses up his nose. “There’s been another break-in. The Northern Archive this time.”
All personal confusion evaporated. The Northern Archive housed some of the Maxen clan’s most sacred historical texts. “Was anything taken?”
“The Ursine Codex is missing.”
Artair swore under his breath. The ancient tome contained detailed histories of bear clan magic, including protective spells unique to their lineage.
“And they left this.” Jash extended his hand, revealing a playing card—the Jack of Spades. A sabertooth tiger silhouette had been painted across it in blood-red ink.
Thora moved closer, her professional focus immediately engaged. “That’s Ajax Blackwater’s calling card,” she said, her voice suddenly crisp and focused.
Artair glanced at her sharply. “Your bounty?”
She nodded, examining the card without touching it. “He’s been evading capture for two years. Specialized in magical artifacts theft.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s targeting bear clan treasures specifically.”
“But why?” Jash asked, voicing Artair’s own confusion.
“Because they’re valuable,” Thora explained, “and because he’s working for someone who wants bear artifacts in particular.”