Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
EMMA
Petru’s imposing frame was wrapped in black armor, the brutal edge of his sword gleaming beneath the portal’s light. His gaze burned as his maroon haze swirled around him like a storm barely contained.
Another girl stepped through, with long black hair spilling down her back, dark eyes blazing with fire. A sleek, sword-like weapon spun fluidly in her hand as more than fifty men surrounded her, their own weapons raised, energy crackling around them in synchronized threat.
More came through. And more.
The Offensives of Crown, Kanata C and Slava, all closed in around the Chiefs with grim, dangerous efficiency.
No hesitation. No fear.
The Chiefs’ weapons lifted in near-unison, their haze pressed against the air like an invisible wall of force. But they were outnumbered. Outgunned.
And everyone knew it.
Petru’s mouth curled into a weird and rather creepy smile, as the High Chief’s eyes swept over the gathered Offensives: their strength, their numbers, the ferocity in their stance.
Caden’s whiskey eyes glittered with dark amusement when he stepped toward the Chief. “Well,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “May I present to you, oh powerful United Chiefs…” He gestured to the assembled Offensives with a sweeping flick of his hand.
“The only power that really matters: loyalty.”
A low growl rippled through the air. The Chief’s gaze flicked toward the surrounding Offensives, his weapon still raised, as he ran some calculations. Or so I assumed.
Even the most powerful Offensives in the world were still only fifteen people, and we had just raised almost three full-grown armies, under two minutes.
The High Chief spoke first. “You dare raise your weapons to your own Chiefs?”
“You dare raise your weapons to an innocent woman?” Sean snapped back with venom dripping off every word.
The High Chief stepped forward with a snarl, but Petru raised his sword to the Chief’s chin, his dark eyes gleaming beneath the shadows of the woods.
“You raise your weapons to Crown,” he said in a low and cutting voice. “You raise your weapons to Slava.” His mouth curled into another extremely unsettling smile. “You threaten Ms. Thompson?” He rolled his shoulders once. “You declare us war.”
Wow. Uhm. Very sweet… Little less prudent.
The High Chief smiled without warmth, like a man holding a royal flush no one at the table had seen coming.
And then he played it.
“Though your loyalty to each other is admirable, I have to wonder whether it is not built on false information.”
My brows furrowed. What the hell was he getting at?
His focus locked onto Petru like a predator scenting blood. “Has Miss Thompson revealed the role her son will play in the future?”
It took everything in me not to snort aloud. Gods, men really are the less intelligent half.
Petru’s expression remained unreadable. “You mean, do I know her son, Alek, is destined to save our race from extinction against humans?”
The High Chief's jaw tensed, clearly caught off guard I’d already shared that little bombshell. Unlike him, I understood what loyalty truly meant, and how to earn it.
“Yes,” he continued, his tone steady. “She told me that interesting story when she came to visit us last year.”
“Did she tell you about his father?”
Petru shifted. Barely. A subtle weight change, a flicker of hesitation most wouldn’t have noticed. But the Chief wasn’t most. And he pounced.
“Ah,” he said, tone triumphant. “She omitted that small but not insignificant detail. Then let me inform you: James Walker is to father our so-called savior, and as it stands, Miss Thompson has yet to form the True Bond with him, even though she has assured us of that intention.”
“Nothing’s set in stone,” James muttered under his breath, so low it might’ve been for himself more than anyone else.
Meanwhile, I ran my options quickly through my mind.
Because now I knew. I knew it was a lie. And I could call them on their lie, tell everyone what I’d seen when I’d jumped through the blue portal.
Or I could keep that for later.
Information is power.
Thus, I went for something in between.
“The United Chiefs are convinced James Walker is the father of my child,” I explained evenly as I raised my voice for all to hear. “But I am not.”
Caden’s head turned toward me, but I kept my focus locked on James.
“I do not believe the similarities between the Krait’s first name and mister Walker’s real first name, prove James is his father,” I continued, the words clear. “And my feelings no longer allow me to change that opinion.”
“What you believe or feel at present is not of value,” the High Chief snarled back. “You do not know what we have seen.”
“Then by all means,” Caden interjected, voice cool and edged with challenge, “enlighten us. What information do the United Chiefs possess that makes them so certain of the Krait’s heritage?”
I almost smiled; victory burning at the back of my throat. We’d cornered them.
Until another Chief stepped forward.
“In the future where Emma Thompson chooses Caden Colt,” he said evenly, “the latter dies. Since the father is one of both, James Walker remains the only option.”
The words landed like a strike.
I felt the blood drain from my face, the world narrowing to a sharp point in my chest. But beside me, Caden snorted. A defiant sound that managed to mock and dismiss all at once.
“Yeah, right,” he said flatly. “Like anyone’s going to believe that. You’ll have to do better than ‘trust us’ as a source.”
“We have proof of this.”
“Show me.” My command came out hard, but my hands were trembling where they hung at my sides. “Show me this so-called proof.”
The Chiefs stilled. All of them.
Then, the High Chief turned toward Petru.
“For reasons we cannot yet divulge,” he said, measured and cold, “this proof cannot see the light of day. But it will in the near future. In the meantime, you must trust what we have seen is true. The Krait is our best hope for survival, and he is conceived by Emma Thompson and James Walker.”
For a heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then Caden and I both let out quiet, disbelieving laughs.
Because with that single refusal, the Chiefs’ credibility didn’t just crumble, it disintegrated.
“Seems to me,” Petru replied coolly, raising his weapon a fraction higher, “even if that were true which seems highly unlikely, it would earn Miss Thompson and Mister Walker some invaluable protection. Not you arresting her based on fabricated charges.”
“She translated beneath the bubble and survived,” the High Chief bit out like a cornered animal.
“And I couldn’t care less.”
The silence that followed was instant. Tense. Electric.
All Offensives shifted uneasily, fingers twitching toward triggers.
A low hum started up, one of the Corona’s powering, whining softly like a warning.
Sean stiffened beside me, his posture tightening.
I saw Caden’s hand slip behind his back, quiet and controlled, before retrieving the small knife he always carried somewhere on his body.
One wrong word. One wrong move. One wrong breath.
And the next move would be open war.
Right when I thought the whole thing was about to escalate, another portal burned into existence next to James, searing bright green.
Rachel stepped through first. Jackson followed a step behind her, his broad frame casting a dark shadow across the ground. He sized up the Chiefs, thoughtful and rational. As always.
Kanata C’s First Offensive’s focus flicked toward the United Chiefs. “Sorry we’re late,” Rachel said, her smile widening with just the right edge of mockery. “You know how traffic can be.”
She stepped in between the two groups, clearly to shield the three of us still stuck under the bubble. Jackson flanked her side; his back turned to us.
“So,” she drawled. “What did we miss?”
My heart hammered against my ribcage.
The United Chiefs stood like statues, weapons raised with lethal determination. My haze still burned beneath my skin, a dark red glow humming at my fingertips, ready to ignite at the flick of a thought.
“Who are you?” one of the Chiefs spat at Jackson, the question laced with contempt.
Sean’s fists curled at his sides, his entire body tensing like a drawn bowstring, but Jackson stepped forward, calm as ever. “My name’s Jackson Lau, Orator of Cyclos.”
Another Chief rolled his eyes. “Great. Just what we needed. A fucking Orator.”
Sean let out a low growl, his posture shifting from tense to lethal in less than a second.
I imagined Jackson’s smile widening slightly. Having dealt with Cyclos and their Council for years—not to mention their very stubborn Leader—this was probably a walk in the park for him.
“Mister Lau,” the High Chief said, his tone filled with condescension, “your services aren’t necessary today. We’ve caught the perpetrator red-handed. Ms. Thompson translated beneath the bubble, and she survived. Again.”
“The first time could’ve been due to a faulty bubble, one that wasn’t properly reinforced. But that’s clearly no longer the case, since three children have died since then. Ms. Thompson survived not once, but twice, effectively proving she is its creator.”
Jackson nodded thoughtfully, like he was genuinely considering the point. “Seems very lucky you could be here to witness that yourself.”
Huh. Good observation. Why were they here?
The High Chief’s jaw tightened. “We heard about a human army trekking near the Canadian border and wanted to make sure Kanata C was safe.”
Jackson nodded again, almost casually. “I’m sure Kanata C is very grateful for such a...personal check-in. Though I am surprised you found the time to come here, what with all that work you have, finding us a new Board and all.”
He tilted his head, the picture of innocence. “It’s been over a year since the last one was eradicated. I thought military oversight was supposed to be temporary?”
The High Chief’s composure wavered for half a second.