Chapter 9 Kaia #2
“It was necessary,” I say, defensive.
“Necessary?” Jules repeats, incredulous. “We get one veto each.”
“I know,” I snap back.
Mina’s voice is small. “Only one.”
“I know,” I repeat, softer.
Remy crosses her arms. “And you used yours in the first twenty-four hours back in your hometown.”
I glare at her. “It wasn’t like I had time to workshop my decision.”
Jules paces a step, then points at me. “You could have let them wipe her and spared yourself the complication.”
My chest tightens. “No, I couldn’t.”
Mina’s voice is gentle. “Kaia… why?”
I swallow.
Because I couldn’t let them erase our reunion, no matter how messy and incredibly unideal it was. I couldn’t let her wake up tomorrow with bruises on her body and no explanation in her head. Because I’ve already taken so much from her…
I shrug again, because I’m a coward and also because I don’t know how to say the truth out loud without breaking down completely.
“She deserved to know,” I say finally.
Jules goes quiet. Mina’s eyes go glassy. Remy’s gaze softens just a fraction, like she understands more than she’s saying.
“Okay,” Jules says, voice different now, more serious. “Okay. That means she’s… in it.”
“Yes,” I say. “The diner is warded. It’s a monitoring post now.”
Mina murmurs, “That’s… huge.”
“It’s terrible,” I say. “But it’s—” I stop. “It’s the best option.”
Jules exhales. “She must really hate you.”
“Yes,” I say immediately, because that part is easy.
Mina’s voice is soft. “And you still did it.”
I look away. “She was almost wiped. I wasn’t letting them do that.”
Remy taps a black nail against her arm thoughtfully. “She’s exposed now. Splinters will circle back.”
I nod. “Mr. Bane said the same. Blaire assured me that the NDA also protects her though… at least a little. It makes it harder for the Chorus to get in her head and latch onto her again. But…”
My gaze cuts to the door without meaning to.
I should be there. At the diner. Outside Evie’s home. Anywhere close enough that I can intercept the next wrong note before it finds her throat again. She’s not truly safe, not until we burn the demon clean for good.
Jules stops pacing. Her grin tries to return, but it doesn’t fully stick. “So… we’re going to a diner.”
“Not we,” I say quickly.
Jules’ brows lift. “Kaia.”
I exhale. “We’re not making it worse.”
Mina’s eyes brighten again, worry and fascination mixing. “But what if she—what if she’s in danger again?”
“She is,” I say bluntly.
They all stare at me.
I meet their eyes. “She is. That’s why the monitoring post exists. And the wards. And the binding.”
The room goes quiet again, heavier this time. A knock lands on the hotel door. Sharp. Professional.
“Debrief in five,” Blaire calls from the other side.
My shoulders tense automatically.
Jules flops back into the chair like she’s trying to look casual again, but her eyes are still too sharp. Mina gets up and stretches a little. Remy turns back toward the vanity, as if we can paint our faces into something invincible.
I stand, smoothing my pants like I can press my life into place.
And that’s when Mina’s rummaging starts. She’s always tidying, always organizing. It’s one of her tells—when she’s anxious, she makes the world neat. Her attention drifts to my opened, and clearly messy, duffel by the dresser.
“Your bag is stressing me out,” she murmurs, half to herself.
“It’s a bag,” Jules interjects. “Let it alone.”
Mina ignores her. Of course she does. She kneels, unzips my duffel, and starts pulling things into order—garment tape, Blaire pins, throat spray, a charger, the emergency sewing kit, some candies, spare lip gloss, and so on.
Then a photo slips out.
It flutters to the carpet like a leaf.
Mina scoops it up before I can.
I see it in her hands and my heart does something humiliating.
It's a candid, grainy shot from Harbor Lights many years ago. There are lanterns strung overhead, a crowd blurred into soft smears of light. And off to the side, half-caught by accident, two teenagers are kissing on the pier.
Me.
And Evie.
At the time, we didn’t know the camera caught us. I didn’t know anything… except that her mouth was warm and the lanterns were swaying and for one reckless second, it felt like the town itself was blessing us.
Except the photo is wrong in a way that still makes my skin prickle.
Every lantern near us isn’t an orb of light like the rest of the frame—it’s distorted into tiny heart-shapes and halos, as if the brightness is literally reshaping itself around us.
The blur around our bodies isn’t just grain.
It’s patterned. If you look too long, you can almost make out faint sigils hidden in the noise.
And there’s a flare around my head that shouldn’t be there: a soft halo of light, focused and impossible, like the camera decided I was a star and the world agreed.
It’s the photo that the Council flagged as high-resonance. It’s the whole reason they scouted me to begin with.
Mina’s eyes go wide, soft. “Kaia…”
Jules peers over and makes a strangled noise. “Oh my god. You took this on tour?”
I snatch the photo out of Mina’s hand so fast it almost tears.
Heat floods my face. “It was… in the bag already.”
Jules grins, back to being a menace again. “In the bag. Sure.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, stuffing it back into my duffel bag and burying it under my clothes.
Remy’s tone is mild. “Nothing that’s been with you for years.”
I glare at her. “Can we please not?”
Jules throws both hands up in surrender. “Fine. We’ll not. For now.”
The door opens before I can recover.
Blaire steps in first, wearing that same black blazer like it’s fused to her bones, hair pulled back, headset already hooked around her neck. Her expression is all business, but her eyes flick to me like she’s checking for cracks and deciding whether to cover for me or scold me.
Behind her comes Devin, smiling already, holding a tablet, hair perfectly styled like he slept eight hours and drank lemon water.
Mr. Bane and Mr. Cohen follow. Their gaze sweeps the room like they’re counting exits.
“Morning,” Devin chirps, too bright. “Big night last night.”
Jules mutters, “Understatement.”
Blaire’s mouth twitches, brief, almost a smile, then she looks at us like she’s trying to keep four disasters upright with nothing but tone.
“Let’s sit.” She gestures toward the small conference table by the window.
We sit.
I fold my hands under the table so no one can see them shake.
Bane speaks first, like he’s reading from a template. “The meeting schedule is this: Debrief. Incident report. Consequence mitigation.”
Devin nods along like he loves consequences.
However, Mr. Cohen is serious. He leans in slightly. “Kaia, you ran off stage.”
“I did,” I say.
“You left the team,” Mr. Cohen continues. “You left security. You left the agreed perimeter.”
“I did,” I repeat, jaw tight.
Devin leans in, smiling like he’s delivering feedback in a staff meeting. “We understand you were acting on instinct. But instinct can be… expensive.”
I stare at him. “Someone almost died.”
Devin’s smile doesn’t flicker. “And you saved her. Excellent. But the splinter escape—”
Remy’s voice is quiet. “We saw the glitch. Our job is to ensure civilian safety.”
Mina nods quickly, as if to back us both up.
Mr. Cohen says, “A monitoring post has been established at the Lighthouse Diner. Wards will be reinforced. The civilian—Evelyn Calder—has been bound by secrecy.”
Devin smiles, like it’s a fun announcement, as he adds, “Which opens an opportunity.”
I already know I’m going to hate whatever he says next.
He continues, “A low-key, authentic group appearance at the diner tonight. Nothing too official. Just a drop-in. Bane will strengthen the wards, and it gives us controlled visibility. Fans love ‘hometown vibes.’”
My stomach twists. “Is that… necessary?”
Devin’s smile turns sympathetic. “Yes, it’s already in motion.”
I glance between Devin and Blaire. Blaire simply nods, and shoots me a look that tells me to behave. It’s normally the look she saves for Jules. Not me.
Jules notices immediately. Of course she does. Jules sees everything that shifts.
She leans forward, tone bright but edged. “Why are we turning a civilian’s workplace into a ‘vibe’?”
Devin’s smile doesn’t move. “It’s not a vibe. It’s a mitigation step.”
“That’s not what you just called it,” Jules says, sweet as poison. “You said ‘controlled visibility' and 'hometown vibes.' Which sounds like ‘content.’”
Her eyes flick to me, quick, protective.
Jules loves to tease. She lives to get a rise out of people.
But when it matters, she goes protective in a way that’s almost feral—pack instinct, no questions asked.
All of us do. We fight for each other because we have to, because nobody else is going to put themselves between us and the worst parts of this job.
I register it, grateful and embarrassed all at once.
Devin’s gaze slides over her. “Jules,” he says, smooth and patronizing, “I appreciate your passion, but this is not a democracy.”
Blaire’s voice cuts in, calm but firm, before it can escalate. “It’s happening. We keep it short. We keep it quiet. We do not make a spectacle.”
Devin nods like he agrees, even though he’s the one who brought the word visibility into the room. “Exactly.”
Jules’s jaw tightens. Mine does too.
We share a look, then Jules mutters under her breath, only for me, “Don’t worry. He’s going to die someday.”
I shake my head at her a little.
Mr. Cohen’s eyes slide back to his tablet. “We must assume the civilian’s location is now a recurring attractor for the Chorus. As long as the demon remains active, it may test the wards.”
The words hit like a slap. I hate how they say ‘civilian.’ My jaw tightens so hard it aches.
I keep my voice even. “She is a person.”
Mr. Cohen doesn’t react. “Yes. And she is now involved. You may have destroyed the Chorus’s main body, but we have evidence multiple splinters broke off.”
Jules sits forward. “Multiple?”