Chapter 8
EIGHT
CADEN
Emma had been borderline catatonic for almost an entire week.
Her body functioned the way it should. She went on walks, ate whenever someone suggested she should, and stayed hydrated. But that mask she wore when her emotions threatened to overwhelm her had become a permanent fixture.
Grief is a fucked-up darkness to handle, but I knew Emma well enough. She wasn’t catatonic because she was gone—it was simply how she coped. She’d snap out of it when she was ready. Recognizing it for what it was, I wasn’t too worried. Yet.
Unlike James, who was unraveling more every time he saw her. I made a mental note to keep an eye on him, to make sure he didn’t lose it and make things worse for her than they already were.
To add to my never-ending to-do list, Rocco nexed me Sunday night from the command center at Crown. “Can we talk for a minute?”
Seated alone in my room for once, his timing was spot on. “Sure. What’s up?”
His expression was tense; his usual confidence edged with unease. “Emile contacted me last night, still undercover with the Radicals we fought at Hunza. He told us they have changed leadership.”
That surprised me. “Since when?”
“After we took the Amplifier. Apparently, most of them were against using it in the first place, and with their weapon gone, they rioted and killed their leader.”
I scoffed. “Convenient story to tell, after you’ve lost the battle that cost you its weapon.”
Rocco snorted, crossing his arms. “I implied something similar.”
“Who’s their new leader?”
“Cara Sinclair. Emile heard she’s going to reach out to you.”
“No idea who she is. She’s going to reach out to Crown?”
“No.” His gaze locked onto mine. “You. Specifically.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Emile couldn’t find out. Just that she is planning to nex you in the upcoming days.”
“Sounds charming. I can’t wait.”
Rocco huffed a laugh, but it faded quickly. “It’s been almost a month since we retrieved the Amplifier. How much longer do you think Emile should stay with them?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Do I need to pull him?”
Rocco hesitated, his fingers flexing at his sides. “He’s too proud to say it, but he’s been…distant. Withdrawn.”
I exhaled, before running a hand through my hair. “Sometimes it’s easier to keep your distance. When you’re undercover, it can get very difficult when you’re distracted by the real connections you have. Give it time, he’ll come back to us.”
Rocco clenched his jaw, clearly unconvinced.
My patience started thinning. “We still need the intel. But if you think he’s too far gone, pull him out. We’ll find another way.”
Rocco gave me a quick nod, then broke the connection, my mind already turning over the mess this left me with.
Enya was dead.
If Emile was recalled, I’d have no one left inside the Radicals.
I dragged my hand over my face, as the never-ending exhaustion crawled beneath my skin.
Telling James the new leader of the Radicals wanted a sit-down, went about as well as expected.
After stubbornly refusing to entertain any request from the people responsible for “attacking his Collective with a godsdamn Amplifier,” I managed to get him to agree to attend anyway, convincing him his new leadership position demanded a more diplomatic stance, even if it killed him.
He cursed me out, swore he'd kill me again, then—begrudgingly—yielded to my logic and brilliance. Nothing new there.
Informing Rachel I planned to meet Ms. Sinclair on her territory, however, went surprisingly smooth. Too smooth, really. She got the clearance from her Leader within the hour and even arranged the whole meeting without so much as a raised eyebrow.
Of course, she negotiated terms. Rachel didn’t do me any favors out of the goodness of her heart. She was still First Offensive, protecting her Collective with the same precision she brought to the battlefield. And her Collective was harboring a fugitive—my fugitive.
Rachel’s gaze sharpened as it found mine, the steel in her expression leaving no room for argument. “As long as Emma’s staying here, I need your Offensives here as well.”
“I won’t leave my own Collective unprotected,” I said, my voice steady. “But I’ll call in as many as Crown can spare.”
As was done.
Our interaction left a strange hum beneath my skin though, a tension that didn’t sit right.
Rachel was always efficient, but this was too easy.
Too smooth. Sinclair had to know we’d be ready for her, and Rachel agreeing so readily meant there was a layer beneath this I couldn’t see yet. But that was a problem for later.
For now, the meeting was set, and Sinclair was walking straight into our hands. Whether she walked out again was still up for debate.
She portaled into one of the abandoned rooms at Arbor Hall.
The glass roof above us was slick with condensation, snow hammering down in thick, relentless sheets. The muted light filtering through the storm cast a dim, watery glow over the room.
James’s Skindo was at her throat, my Chela pressed against the soft skin of her neck, but Cara Sinclair didn’t even flinch.
"Two men pointing their long sticks at me. My, my. How did I get so lucky?"
James let out a low growl. I thought it redundant, since his weapon was doing enough threatening without him adding animalistic theatrics.
Cara’s gaze flicked to me without turning her head, her lips curving into a slow, amused smile. "You must be the infamous Caden Colt. My sister wasn’t lying. You are one tasty dish."
My fingers tightened on the Chela. "Your sister?"
"Rachel Varez." She sighed as if the name annoyed her. "Different last name, same upbringing. Too bad she went soft on the Great Exposure. I would’ve loved to have her fighting with us against the insanity of exposing us to humans."
"Rachel’s your sister?" James hissed, confusion flickering behind his fury as he snapped up his head to me.
I shrugged. Didn’t know, certainly didn’t care. Though it did explain the unsettling ease of her decision-making.
Cara smirked, enjoying his reaction. "She didn’t tell you? Probably ashamed of my less-than-peaceful actions. Although, she got me that clearance pretty quick so maybe there’s still hope for our sisterly bond."
James clenched his jaw, already done with her games. "Cut the crap, Sinclair," he snapped, his patience stretched thin. “You have two seconds before I slit your throat, so I’d suggest you start talking.”
She arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a bored smile. "By all means, slit my throat. I’m sure that’ll really improve all diplomatic relations."
I met James’s stare and gave a curt nod. We pulled back, but neither of us lowered our weapons.
“You wanted to talk to me. So talk,” I commanded.
Cara shivered theatrically. "Oh, you really are something dark and dangerous. You’ll have to tell me one day how you did it."
"Did what?"
"Turn your translation untraceable."
Silence. James’s brows lifted a fraction, but he didn’t so much as shift.
Cara’s smirk widened. "I see. You didn’t know I know. Glad to see someone can still surprise you."
"Why don’t you tell me what you think you know," I replied, my voice even. "And I’ll decide whether or not I’m surprised."
"As you wish."
I motioned toward the glass table in the center of the room. Sinclair slid into one of the black leather chairs as if she had all the time in the world, crossing one leg over the other with a lazy elegance.
James stood behind her, arms crossed, his Skindo still within easy reach. I lowered myself into the chair opposite Sinclair, my Chela resting on the glass surface between us. My gaze cut to James.
Not a word about Emma.
He gave me the slightest nod in return, his green eyes dark and hard.
"We know it was you who stole our Amplifier at Hunza," Cara said, stretching out her arms along the back of the chair.
"We know you had help on the ground—your buddy McGrath and his team—but what we couldn’t figure out was how you bypassed our LiaPrism.
You portaled through our Layer, into the ice cube encasing the weapon, and none of it triggered a single alarm. "
I translated her a drink. She lifted it in mock gratitude before taking a slow sip.
"It didn’t take a genius to realize your translation is untraceable in the Human World," she continued. "How you managed it, though…that’s one hell of a brainteaser."
I leaned back. "Why come here and tell me? I could easily kill you for knowing my secret."
The lie rolled off my tongue as if I’d rehearsed it ten times this morning.
Cara chuckled. "I have a proposition that might make you feel less murderous."
"Seems unlikely but for now, I’m listening."
She took another sip before setting the glass down.
"My predecessor forced a lot of us to go along with his insane plan to use the Amplifier, to force the Collectives into recalling the Consensus. Thanks to your actions at Hunza, we were able to dethrone the bastard. The Radicals are grateful to you. And we’d like to repay our debt. "
"How?"
"First, by keeping your secret."
I laughed without humor. "You attacked both our Collectives with an Amplifier, willingly or not. That’s not going to cut it."
She shrugged. "No, but it’s a start." A pause. "We’re also offering you, our alliance."
James stiffened beside me.
"Alliance?" I repeated.
"There’s a war coming," Cara said bluntly. "Humans are testing nuclear weapons, experimenting on magi, dabbling with biochemical agents… And some magi are already collaborating with them, thinking that’s the way to achieve peace."
She muttered, "Fucking Collabs. Absolute idiots, all of them" and took another sip of her drink.
"So we’ll stand with you," she added, setting down her cup. "Fight the humans and their magi-Collaborators together."
James moved, but I lifted a hand, stopping him.
"Why assume we’ll fight them at all?"