Chapter 28 #2
My mind was racing, torn between what to tell Petru in the morning and what to hold back.
I needed to convince him to participate in the Resistance, to fight the war with us on two fronts: against the Radicals now and the humans in the future.
But revealing everything about Stephen felt reckless at this stage.
Petru could just as easily run to the United Chiefs and sell Stephen out for abusing the blue portal.
By two in the morning, I still hadn’t slept for shit.
Sean, on the other hand, had crashed almost instantly, sprawled out on the bed and snoring within minutes.
Fucking great.
“Did ye sleep at all?” Sean asked the next morning, rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged into his jacket.
I shot him a look. “Not much.”
“I slept like a rock,” Sean grinned, stretching his arms.
I rolled my eyes, while lacing up my boots. “Yeah, kind of hard to miss when you snore loud enough to wake the dead.”
Sean laughed, unbothered. “Hey, it’s part of me charm. Besides, I’m sure Petru was comforted by the sweet symphony of my snores echoing through his fortress.”
I shook my head but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “If we survive this, I’ll get you a recording contract.”
Sean grinned. “Deal.”
We turned a corner and nearly walked straight into Petru, who stood waiting with his usual calm authority. “I was about to have breakfast,” he said smoothly. “I’d be honored if you two would accompany me.”
Before I could respond, Sean’s stomach growled loudly, filling the silence. He gave a sheepish grin, perfectly timed to break the tension. “Guess that’s a yes.”
The corridor leading to the dining hall was grand and imposing, with stone arches looming overhead. We moved past heavy, worn tapestries, depicting brutal battles and stark landscapes.
Finally, we reached the massive double doors, fortified metal of course, and as Petru shoved them open, the flickering light from the chandeliers inside spilled out, beckoning us into the grand dining room.
We took our seats at the long table, when plates of food appeared before us: juicy roast meats, vibrant vegetables, and an array of crusty breads, filling the air with their scents.
He leaned back, studying us with quiet intrigue. “So, what brings you here?”
I kept my posture straight, forcing a calm into my delivery. “We heard about the Radicals threatening you to revoke your consensus,” I offered, cautious but direct.
Petru’s expression remained unreadable, though he gave a slight nod. “You heard right.”
“We came to see if we could be of any assistance.”
Slava’s Leader’s jaw tightened; skepticism clear in his features. “You want to assist me? I have one of the most refined military structures in the world. Why the hell would I need your help?”
Sean, never one to hold his tongue, muttered through a mouthful of bread, “I see modesty is still your brightest feature.”
I fought the urge to kick my friend under the table, a flicker of frustration rippling through me. Petru didn’t even flinch at Sean’s sarcasm—his focus remained pinned on me, steady and unblinking.
“What is this really about?” His tone was direct, cutting through any pretense.
Yeah, there was no bullshitting this man.
I held his stare. “I want you to fight with us. I want you to join the Resistance.”
Petru’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. “And what are you resisting?”
I forced down the first bite of my bland breakfast, reminding myself why Petru’s Collective wasn’t celebrated for its culinary prowess. “The Great Exposure,” I replied dryly.
Sean chimed in, his tone more serious. “But right now, our immediate concern are the Radicals. They’ve been threatening Collectives left and right with their Amplifier, forcing them to withdraw their consensus. They’ve attacked Cyclos and our own Collective, Crown. They need to be stopped.”
Petru didn’t look shocked, not the way I’d expected. A calculating stillness settled over him, more tactician than humanist. He sat forward slightly. “And why do you resist the Great Exposure, if I may ask?”
I took a breath, steadying myself. “There’s a war coming.”
“Between?” he pressed, his voice cool.
“Magi and humans,” I said, feeling the enormity of those words hang in the air.
Petru drew back just a fraction, disbelief written across his face. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? You might as well join the people you’re so hell-bent on fighting with that kind of thinking.”
“Never,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I will fight them with every single one of my Offensives until my last fucking breath.”
Petru leaned back again, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table. “Two wars. Well, well, aren’t you ambitious.”
I ignored the jab. “The Radicals are lunatics with a nuclear-level weapon. Calling them dangerous is an understatement. I’ve been gathering data on their movements and strongholds. But I need access to your Collective to track them. And we might need help to stop them.”
Petru’s demeanor shifted, a shadow passing over him. "You mentioned a war between magi and humans. When is this supposed to happen?"
I kept my answer deliberately vague. "Soon."
I hesitated, weighing my words. "It’s tied to our decision to hand over the LiaPrisms. I can’t tell you much more right now, but I will—soon."
To my surprise, he didn’t push further. "And your access to Slava?"
"The sooner, the better," I replied, my tone firm. "We need you, Petru. We need your clearance and, possibly, your forces to help us track down the Radicals and find their Amplifier. And eventually…" I locked eyes with him. "You'll need to rescind your consensus."
He arched a brow. "Rescind it? Like they are trying to make me do?"
I nodded, holding his attention with unwavering resolve. "Yes, but not because of them. If you call it off in response to their threats, you're giving them the upper hand. You can't let them control you."
Petru’s shoulders drew back slightly, his posture tensing as he considered my words.
“Let me get this straight. You want me to do what the lunatics are demanding—retract my consensus—but not because of their threats.
Meanwhile, you expect me to join your fight to track down their Amplifier and prepare for a full-blown war with humans? "
The logic was fragile, but I stood my ground. “Yes.”
Petru’s lips twitched into an ironic smile. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know the hostiles retreated last night. So, their immediate threat is gone.”
“Which means you can help us prevent them to strike again,” I replied dryly, a flicker of impatience simmering beneath my calm exterior.
Petru’s expression hardened. “I’m not fighting a war that doesn’t concern me.”
I blinked, incredulous. “How does this not concern you? They’re threatening your Collective with a weapon of mass destruction.”
“They retreated.”
“They’ll be back,” I snapped, unable to see how Petru could be so callous about it. “This is only the beginning.”
“You say so, but I have yet to see proof.”
“They’re still threatening Sisu and Alliance as we speak. It’s only a matter of time before they return here.”
Petru’s patience finally snapped. “Then I’ll revoke the consensus. I don’t care about it anyway.”
I leaned forward, my frustration boiling over. “Really? You’re just going to give in to the demands of terrorists? Why won’t you fight? What kind of man rolls over like that?”
The room fell into an icy silence. I realized I had crossed a line, but it was too late to pull back now.
Petru stood abruptly, his presence fierce and unrelenting. “A man who puts the safety of his people above his own ego. Now, get the fuck off my property.”
I met his stance with equal defiance, my jaw clenched. Finally, I looked away, knowing when to admit defeat.
Sean and I rose to our feet. Drawing a portal, I shot Petru one last, frustrated glance before stepping through, back to Crown.
“I can’t believe him,” Sean mumbled under his breath as we stepped through to the other side. “I was sure he’d be a shoo-in for this.”
I nodded, disappointment settling over me like an unwelcome guest.
“We’ll have to track the Radicals as much as we can through the Human World. Ye need to fix things with Emma. We can’t do this without her,” Sean muttered.
I glanced at him, the worry clear on his face. Damn him, he wasn’t wrong.
“Call a meeting with the team,” I said. My voice was thick with irritation, acknowledging the truth in his words. “I’ll go get Emma.”
Sean hesitated, his hand hovering near the hilt of his blade like he was debating whether to say anything at all. Then he glanced sideways at me, a sly glint in his eye. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice low and conspiratorial, “I did leave Petru a little present.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of present?”
He shrugged one shoulder, all casual mischief, and smirked. “The unflushable kind. Let’s just say Slava’s food and my digestive system had…creative differences.”
I stared at him for a beat, then let out a sharp snort, more amused than I wanted to admit. “You’re disgusting.”
“Strategically disgusting,” he said, lifting a finger as if making a grand philosophical point. His face was perfectly straight, but his eyes sparkled with unrepentant pride. “There’s a difference.”
I shook my head and turned away, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at my lips. But Sean’s intestinal sabotage aside, my mind was still a tangled mess of frustration and self-recrimination. As I climbed the stairs, the weight of everything settled heavier on my shoulders.
When I reached Emma’s door, I paused, letting out a slow, steadying breath that stretched my ribs tight. Then I knocked gently—once, twice—before easing the door open.
Emma sat on her bed, her posture tense and weary. Her focus was fixed intently on her arm, where the Skindo tattoo had once been—her scars now exposed in its absence.
The sight of those scars, a harsh reminder of what we had done to her, twisted the knife of guilt in my gut. I stepped into the room, trying to mask the turmoil I felt.
“Emma,” I said quietly. “We need to talk.”
She looked up, her eyes meeting mine with a mixture of surprise and something deeper—pain, perhaps. She didn’t say anything, but her gaze spoke volumes.