Chapter 28 #2
A sharp shiver races down my spine, cold and sudden, raising every instinct I have. I turn, already reaching for them, already knowing what he’s done.
But it’s too late.
A surge of power erupts outward from the invisible shield I’ve just stepped through, slamming into the rest of them with enough force to steal the breath from my lungs. It hits them like a wall—solid and intentional.
Cade, Archie, and Liz brace against it, their feet digging into the earth as they hold their position, bodies straining but unyielding.
Iris and my mom aren’t as lucky.
They’re thrown back, my dad going with them as he tries to steady Mom, all three of them hitting the ground hard enough to echo through the space.
My heart stutters, but I don’t move because I can feel it.
They’re not hurt. Shaken, yes. Separated from me? Also, yes.
This was never about hurting them.
Malrik wants me on my own. As if he thinks that will weaken me somehow.
I force my shoulders to stay loose as I turn fully, giving my back to Malrik without hesitation or even fear, my attention fixed on the people behind me instead of the man who thinks he controls this moment.
One by one, they start to rise.
Iris is first. She pushes to her feet with an irritated huff, brushing herself off like being thrown across an arena is nothing more than an inconvenience. Then she stalks forward, stopping just short of where the unseen barrier remains, her gaze sliding past me to the man behind me.
“If by some miracle of the gods my granddaughter doesn’t kill you,” she calls out, her voice carrying with sharp, deliberate clarity, “just know—you will still lose.”
Her eyes narrow, something cold and certain settling into them.
“You will never know a day of peace for as long as the rest of us live.”
Malrik says nothing before she shifts her attention to me. She jerks her chin toward my waist, toward the fanny pack clipped securely in place earlier. “Don’t be too proud to fight dirty, sugar plum. I know he won’t be.”
“Thank you,” I say and quickly add, “Grandma. For everything.”
For a second, she just stares at me. Then her chest lifts, her eyes brightening in a way I’ve never seen before, something fierce and almost disbelieving flickering across her face.
Yeah. I picked the right moment for that.
She makes a small, choked sound—half scoff, half something else entirely—before turning away with a flick of her hand, retreating a few steps like she needs distance to recover.
Iris Prescott, speechless. I’m pretty sure that’s a first.
Nobody else comes closer, and I appreciate that.
Cade’s presence fills my heart. We’re right here with you.
I offer a single nod as I move to face Malrik.
The distance between us closes slowly, each step measured against the weight of everything that brought me here. The dirt feels different beneath my feet the closer I get to him—tighter, like the earth has been pulled into his control, molded to hold this moment exactly where he wants it.
I stop just short of the center, leaving enough space between us to breathe.
For a heartbeat, neither of us speaks.
The arena falls into a strange, suspended silence, the kind that presses in from all sides, thick with anticipation. I can feel every set of eyes on us—from the controlled stillness of the audience Malrik brought to the restless, living tension of those behind me.
But none of it matters. Not right now, when it’s just him and me.
Malrik tilts his head slightly, studying me with that same careful precision he’s always used, like I’m something he can still figure out if he just looks long enough.
“Rowan,” he says at last, my name rolling off his tongue like it belongs to him. “You came.”
His voice is calm. As if this is nothing more than a conversation that he’s been waiting to finish.
“Did you really expect me to hide?”
I hold his gaze, unflinching, letting him see only what I want him to.
His lips curve, not quite a smile, but close enough to be unsettling. “I didn’t expect you to bring them. To put others at risk.” His eyes flick briefly past me, toward my family, before returning to mine. “I wasn’t sure you’d be that predictable.”
He’s trying to goad me. It’s not going to happen.
“Anyone standing behind me chose to be here,” I reply evenly. “For me.”
Something shifts in his expression at that.
That same flicker I caught before—quick, sharp, but gone before it can settle.
“Still trying to make this about choice,” he murmurs. His gaze sharpens, focusing on me like a blade. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”
I don’t take the bait. I don’t say anything right away that he can twist into something else.
Instead, I take one more step forward, closing the distance just enough to make it clear—I’m not standing on the edge of this anymore.
“I figured out all I needed to the moment you took something that wasn’t yours to begin with,” I say, my voice steady, carrying easily across the open space. “You don’t get to decide what I become. You never did.”
The air between us tightens, the faint hum of magic shifting, responding to something unspoken.
Malrik’s gaze doesn’t waver, but there’s a tension in him now that wasn’t there before, something coiled beneath the surface of his control and threatening it.
“I already have,” he says with a certainty I ignore.
For a second, neither of us moves, and in that stillness, I feel it.
He expected hesitation, doubt, and fear. He didn’t expect what I’ve become, even if it was part of his plan. One that just might be working a little too well.
A slow breath fills my lungs, steady and sure, as I hold his gaze and let the silence stretch just a second longer.
“I’m done waiting,” I finally say, and for the first time since I stepped into this arena…
His smile falters.