Chapter 37 Not Just an Assistant
Through the shimmer of surveillance feeds, I watch my sister run for her life.
The magical displays hover in the gloom, each casting a different vantage of the Rift District’s crumbling alleys.
Glamour dulls her features, but I know the rhythm of her movements, that purposeful stride she adopts when convinced she’s outwitted everyone.
Maybe this time, she has.
The realization unsettles me, but seeing her without Dom trailing behind her like a dark shadow . . . well, perhaps my sister isn’t as foolish as I believed. Though the man running beside her is unfamiliar.
I’ve studied enough of the forbidden histories to grasp the weight of what we’re witnessing.
When Kian called Alexander to report Aria’s escape, I was relegated to fetching coffee, as if I’m some junior assistant rather than the lead researcher.
I wanted to dump the scalding liquid over both their heads, but instead, I listened from around the corner, piecing together fragments of their heated discussion.
Breaching the Founders’ Crest wards wasn’t just impressive—it was unthinkable.
Those barriers are older than Eclipsera itself, laced with magic that predates the curse.
I know, I’ve poured over the fragments late into the night, trying to decipher the original syntax of power we’re meddling with.
The texts describe Astrafel not as a deity, but as a threshold—magic’s living conduit.
He allowed it to flow, but only on terms we refused to accept. No industry, weapons, or ownership.
“Go get them.” Kian’s growl breaks the silence.
He sits far too close to the displays, smearing the ethereal surface with greasy fingerprints with deliberate disregard.
“Finally caught our little runaways. They’re heading for the station.
” His grin spreads, all appetite. “I have Smoke there ready to play. Could be fun, watching them choke.”
“No.” Alexander’s voice slices through the room with its usual precision. That composed restraint I once found magnetic now scrapes against me, a reminder of how unflinching he remained while Vivienne pressed herself against him.
“Oh?” Kian’s amusement curdles into something sharper. “Suddenly squeamish about public spectacle? They look like Lower Ring vermin anyway. No one flinches when rats vanish.”
“We pivot the plan.”
“What the actual fuck?” Kian whirls toward him. “Have you gone soft, or just stupid?”
Alexander’s lips curve slightly. “Are you certain Astrafel took the bait? That you managed to force him to lock the bond in place?”
“Are you questioning me?” Kian’s voice drops dangerously. “Careful, Alex. I’d hate to ruin our decades of brotherhood by tearing out your tongue. Though I must admit,” his grin blooms wide “I’m getting quite talented with that particular extraction.”
“You do have a taste for theatrics.” Alexander leans back, that infuriating calm unshaken. “But everything you’re gambling on stems from Elyra’s accounts and her journals. You’re still operating on the assumption she was telling the truth.”
Kian jabs a finger at the feed from an hour ago, Aria and her companion slipping past the gates.
“Then explain this. Explain how they bypassed the most ancient barrier in this city. Go on. Enlighten me.” His voice softens, cruel delight dancing at the corners.
“I am certain of the bond. Octavia wouldn’t have risked exposure unless she believed in it too—” He cuts off, something corrosive flashing through his expression.
“And where is Octavia?” Alexander interjects, though I suspect he already knows the answer.
Kian laughs, low and delighted. “Oh, my darling wife and I had a special date. A little private reunion in the Underground. She clearly needed a reminder about her place in our happy home.” He runs his tongue across his teeth.
“She screamed for a while, but it got dull. So I simplified the situation. Let’s say she won’t be voicing her objections again. ”
Alexander suppresses a shudder, and Kian’s grin widens. “You’re too soft. That’s why your boy hates you. Though I must say, watching Rowe’s disgust with you lately has been deliciously entertaining.”
“Dom hates you too,” Alexander replies flatly.
“Touché.” Kian chuckles, boots resting on the command panel. “But at least my son knows exactly what kind of monster raised him. No illusions there.” He examines his nails, still stained with what I suspect is Octavia’s blood. “Now, about our little runaway. What’s your inspired counter-plan?”
Alexander’s smirk carries echoes of Vivienne’s earlier smile. “Let her go to Astrafel. She’s a compass now. We apply enough pressure to keep her unsettled, paint her as a fugitive so even he sees no snare. Then we track her. Eventually, she’ll lead us right to him.”
“Bit loose for my taste.” Kian drums his fingers against the arm of his chair. “Once she leaves the city’s network, how do you propose we track her? I need more than your over-inflated confidence, but it’s always a joy to watch you pretend you have control.”
“I have an idea,” Alexander replies. “We’ll need Dom.”
“That can be arranged,” Kian says, his grin slicing across his face. “Though he’s been difficult lately. Uncooperative. Children, so full of misplaced morality.”
Alexander turns to me, and my skin prickles at his attention. “Sweetheart, how close are you to finishing the serum we discussed?”
My mind stutters through calculations, risks, contingencies. “It’s still theoretical,” I reply carefully. “We didn’t even have the right creatures for this yet.”
“We do now.” His gaze holds mine, unrelenting. I try not to think about how those same eyes looked when Vivienne laid claim to him. “How soon can you stabilize it? First batch, at least?”
“A few days. Maybe—”
“Perhaps I should involve the rest of the research team.”
Fear spikes through me. “You know what?” I force steadiness into my tone. “Give me a few hours in the lab, and two assistants. You’ll have your prototype before midnight.”
Kian lets out a delighted breath. “Gods, I see the appeal. Pretty, eager, and hopelessly obedient.” He tilts his head “Yet she’s looking a little rattled. Domestic turbulence?”
The words crawl over my skin. Alexander must notice my discomfort because his expression shifts slightly. “We can talk on the way to the labs. We have a few things to discuss.” He turns toward Kian. “Get Dom down there. And make sure he’s conscious. I won’t work with broken parts.”
“No promises.” Kian rises with fluid grace.
“Someone had to pay for our little darling’s escape.
And my son bleeds so beautifully. Inherited that from his mother, I think.
” He winks in my direction. “Speaking of which, I should go check on my dear wife. Make sure she hasn’t choked on anything important. ”
As they drift into tactical discussion, my thoughts scatter backward to the ancient texts. Astrafel, both revered and feared, a being who could take human form, yet was older than empires.
Now, watching my sister flee toward what she thinks is freedom, I wonder if she has any idea what awaits her. Or what we’re about to unleash in response.
“Shall we?” Alexander’s hand slides to my lower back, guiding me forward. The contact is featherlight, and yet now, every inch of me remembers how his fingers flexed when Vivienne laid her claim. How easily his body responded, even if his voice did not.
He leads me through the winding lower halls of his home, up marble stairs lit by sconces glowing a soft crimson. The shadows deepen with every step. This part of the manor breathes secrets, and the air carries the weight of legacies too old to name.
His AetherLink chimes and he answers mid-step. “What do you mean he’s—” He cuts off, listening. “No. Let him leave.” A protest echoes faintly through the link. “I told you to let him go. That’s an order.” More pushback. “Yes, I know what I said earlier. I don’t care. Follow my instructions.”
He disconnects, already dialing again. His hand never leaves my back.
“This is Alexander Darkmoor,” he says into the second call.
“My son will be at the western checkpoint within the hour.” He pauses.
“Yes, that one. I want his vehicle delayed.” Another murmur.
“No, I don’t care how you justify it. Get him out of the car.
Keep him there for a few minutes.” More resistance.
“Make something up. That’s your job. Now execute. ”
The call ends. He doesn’t glance at me, but I study him anyway—the rigid line of his jaw, the subtle tension in his posture, the precision of every move. He’s planning something. He always is.
I clear my throat. “What are you doing?”
“Giving your sister a fighting chance.” Alexander’s smile carries an edge I can’t fully decipher—too measured to trust, too controlled to be called kind.
“Those checkpoints weren’t built for mercy.
With the borders sealed, she won’t make it through alone.
She’ll need help. Let’s hope she has the sense to recognize it when it comes.
” A darker note settles into his expression.
“If not . . . Kian’s methods will be our fallback. ”
A chill cuts through me, and without a word, Alexander shrugs off his jacket and places it over my shoulders. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing the collar, lingering as if to stake a claim.
“It’s fine,” I reply, though my voice fractures on the last syllable.
He catches my hand, weaving our fingers together. “No, it’s not. I can see how upset you are.” His thumb traces circles on my skin, the gesture at odds with his earlier commanding tone.
He leads me through a side corridor I hadn’t noticed before. An exit someone like Alexander would keep for moments when discretion matters more than appearance. A black car idles in the dusk, windows opaque, its driver indistinct behind the tinted glass. Even the surrounding silence feels curated.