Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
LINDSAY
The world hasn’t quite settled yet.
The temple is quiet, lit only by the soft blue glow of the runes carved into the stone walls and the candles on the altar. My lips are tingling, my heartbeat is too loud in my ears, and Raiden…Raiden looks like he’s trying very hard not to touch me again.
He stands close—close enough that I can still feel the heat of him—his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths that don’t fool me for a second.
I tilt my head, searching his face. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
His eyes lift to mine instantly, dark and steady. “Yes.”
Not a lie. Not this time.
He steps closer, fingers brushing my wrist—tentative—as if asking permission. I offer my hand fully, and he takes it, slow and deliberate, tracing his thumb over the back of my knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of them.
“I’m not sorry about kissing you,” he says quietly.
The words slam into me—warm and fierce and way too much for my chest to hold.
“Good,” I manage, breath catching. “Because I’m not either.”
His mouth twitches, that tiny almost-smile he pretends he doesn’t have. Raiden leans in just a fraction, his forehead nearly brushing mine, like he’s drawn in by a gravity I can feel tugging at my ribs.
“I shouldn’t have waited that long,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted to do it since the moment I first saw you.”
My breath stutters; my thoughts scatter like startled birds.
He chuckles—actually chuckles—and the sound sends a warm shiver down my spine. His thumb skims my cheek, slow and careful, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he touches me too fast.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he says.
I blink up at him, heat blooming all the way to my ears. “I’m pretty sure you wanted to murder me when you first saw me,” I mutter. “I definitely didn’t get the ‘I want to kiss you’ vibe when you shoved your magic at me in the sparring ring.”
One corner of his mouth lifts a little higher—because he knows I’m right. Because he knows I’m rambling to keep from melting into the floor.
Raiden’s smile deepens—not wide, but real—and something inside me flips over.
“You really think I wanted to murder you?” he asks, voice dipping into that low, amused rumble.
“You glared at me like I’d personally insulted your ancestors,” I fire back.
His fingers slip from my cheek only so he can tug lightly, playfully, at a strand of my hair. “Maybe I was trying not to stare,” he says. “Did you consider that?”
I choke on air. “No. Absolutely not. That was not an option on the table.”
“Maybe it should’ve been.”
He steps in even closer, and the air changes—warmer, calmer. Like the storm inside him eases the longer I stand in front of him. His shoulders drop a fraction. The tight lines around his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything about it, but the difference is unmistakable.
“See?” he murmurs. “You’re making that face again.”
I narrow my eyes. “What face?”
“The one where you pretend you can’t tell I’m right. But just a little tip—” he leans in, conspiratorial, “—I’m always right.”
I snort, loud and unladylike, and his grin widens like he’s been waiting for it. “I highly doubt that.”
“You’ll see.”
I swat his chest in mock-offense, but he catches my fingers mid-motion, warm and sure around them.
“You’re very confident in that,” I say, arching a brow.
“Mm. Nah.” His lips twitch. “I’m just right.”
But then something flickers behind his expression—something softer. He looks down at our joined hands like he’s surprised to find them there.
His voice drops. “Thank you for coming… when you felt my pain.”
My breath stills. “That’s what a pack does for each other, isn’t it?” I try to lighten it, to nudge him back toward that teasing smile, and it works—his eyes soften, the corners of his mouth lifting again.
Then he leans in, lowering his voice to a warm, dangerous murmur near my ear.
“If you keep showing up for me like that,” he says, “I’m going to end up putting a real bite on you one of these days.”
Heat detonates under my skin.
I jerk back an inch, face on fire. “R—Raiden.”
He grins—slow and satisfied—like he knew exactly what reaction he’d get.
“What?” he asks innocently. “Just stating facts. And remember—” his thumb sweeps lazy circles over the back of my hand, “—I’m always right.”
A soft creak carries through the temple, and the heavy doors swing inward.
Nolan stands framed in the doorway, breath misting in the cold air, eyes wide with worry. His gaze jumps from me to Raiden—and then to how close we’re standing, Raiden still loosely holding my fingers.
He freezes. Then clears his throat like he swallowed his own voice.
“Sorry—I, um—didn’t mean to—” Nolan stumbles over the words, cheeks flushing a little. “It’s been a while. I just wanted to make sure you two were… okay. I can come back, or—”
“You’re not interrupting,” Raiden says immediately, voice steady—though he shifts just enough so Nolan doesn’t feel like he’s intruding on something private. His fingers stay wrapped around mine. “We were heading out.”
Nolan exhales—quiet, subtle, but unmistakably relieved. His shoulders drop just a fraction. “Oh. Uh—good.” His gaze flicks from Raiden to me, then back. “Are you okay?”
“Thanks to our girl, yeah,” Raiden answers, tone warm.
Nolan blinks. “Our girl?”
Raiden hesitates, uncertainty creeping into the edges of his voice. “…Unless you don’t want to share her.”
My stomach twists. The fears I’d shoved down earlier come roaring back so fast I can barely breathe. The last thing I want is to hurt Nolan. To make him think he’s being replaced or pushed aside.
I drop Raiden’s hand and step toward Nolan, heart thudding. “Nolan—”
But he shakes his head, steady, calm, meeting my eyes without flinching.
“I think Lindsay should have the final say in that,” Nolan says. No jealousy or insecurity, just quiet honesty.
The knot in my stomach pulls tighter. “I—” My voice catches. “I wouldn’t want to do this if it hurt you. Either of you.”
Nolan’s expression softens. “Linds…you haven’t hurt me.”
Raiden’s eyes flick to Nolan, then back to me—open and vulnerable in a way he rarely lets anyone see.
Nolan continues, voice warm but firm. “If this is what you want…if it’s all of us? I’m not against that.”
My breath stutters.
Nolan steps a little closer. “But only if it’s what you want.”
Raiden nods once—a small, cautious, hopeful motion. “Yeah. Whatever you choose, we’ll follow.”
The weight in my chest lifts, replaced with something warm and terrifying and huge.
“I want both of you,” I whisper. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”
Nolan’s thumb brushes the back of my hand. Raiden exhales softly, tension easing out of his shoulders.
And for one, impossibly fragile moment, everything feels like it might actually work—before the Veil shudders.
A cold ripple slams through the air, through our feet, through our bones, through the thin invisible thread binding the three of us together.
I gasp and whip my head between them. “Did you feel that?”
Raiden’s hand tightens around my elbow, stance tense and alert. “The Veil,” he says, voice low. “That was the Veil.”
Nolan’s breath catches, his brows drawing together as he stares toward the doorway, like he’s listening to something only he can hear. “It felt… thinner,” he says carefully. “Like something pressed against it from the other side.”
Raiden’s jaw flexes. “Too close.”
A second pulse rolls through—weaker, but unmistakable. Nolan flinches. Raiden steadies me automatically.
“Why can we feel it?” I whisper, dread curling tight beneath my ribs.
Nolan doesn’t answer right away. His eyes narrow slightly, thoughtful, like he’s flipping through a mental library at lightning speed.
“It might be because we’ve all touched it,” he says finally.
“Not literally, but—” He gestures vaguely between the three of us.
“We’ve been in direct contact with the Veil’s boundary more than most students ever will. ”
Raiden’s grip on my elbow stays firm. “We’ve felt fractures before. Not like this.”
“No,” Nolan agrees softly. “But there are old texts that mention… resonance.” He swallows, then continues, quieter. “People who’ve repeatedly interacted with the Veil—closing rifts, stabilizing breaches—they can sometimes form a kind of attunement to it.”
My heart lurches. “Attunement? Like we’re… connected?”
“Not bonded,” Nolan says quickly, reassuring. “Just… aware. More sensitive. The Veil recognizes people who touch its edges too often.” His gaze lifts to mine. “And you’ve touched it more than either of us.”
Raiden nods once, expression darkening. “That explains you. Doesn’t explain us.”
Nolan presses his lips together. “We were there every time, Raiden. With her. Supporting her. Helping her close fractures that should’ve torn wider.
” He shifts his weight, voice tightening with something like understanding—and fear.
“Shared exposure can create shared sensitivity. It’s rare, but it’s happened in the past.”
A third pulse—so faint it’s almost imagined—rises through the ground like a breath.
Raiden tenses. Nolan inhales sharply.
And I…I swear I feel something cold and vast brush the edge of my mind.
“This isn’t just resonance, is it?” I whisper.
Nolan meets my gaze, his eyes somber. “…No. That felt personal.”
Raiden’s jaw clenches. “Whatever’s out there knows we’re watching.”
A chill tangles down my spine.
“Or worse,” Nolan says softly, “it’s watching back.”