Bonus Scene Two – The Island
Lander’s point of view
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
She’s there—ash smears her cheek, singed hair, backpack strap digging into her shoulder.
One blink. One breath.
The air rushes in to fill the space she leaves behind, a tiny punch of displaced pressure that makes my ears pop.
Harper vanishes.
I don’t move. My body is all training—secure the scene, contain the threat—but my mind is stuck on a single echoing thought:
She ran from me.
“Councillor Kane?” one of the Ministry wardens asks. “Orders?”
I drag my gaze from the scorched patch where the fire mage attacked. The mage herself lies on her back, eyes closed, breathing steady. Whatever Harper did to her, it was as clean as the others.
The coven are confused, frightened. The guards are furious. Everyone looks to me.
I want to scream.
Instead, I square my shoulders and pull the bogeyman around me like a cloak.
“Secure the prisoners,” I say, voice flat. “No one casts, no one contacts anyone outside this compound. Med team to the paper mages first. They’re the victims here.”
The warden nods and peels away, barking orders.
My team—our team—are as stunned as I am. Dayna’s eyes shimmer with tears. Jill frowns, bewildered. George looks shattered. I give them the look. They nod—solid, unwavering. They have my back.
Arthur drops from the roof and lands on my shoulder, talons biting through the jacket.
“Bad,” he croaks again, a harsh, distressed sound that vibrates in my teeth. He saw her go. He cannot fathom why I let her.
“Easy,” I murmur, brushing my fingers over his breastbone. “I know.”
I don’t know.
I walk because if I stay still, I’ll start to pace, and if I pace, I’ll start to shout—then kill.
The air reeks of burnt magic and singed grass. Anger burns hot and bright—not because she used magic, but because she did it without me.
Because she decided I would be her judge and found me wanting.
Because she didn’t trust me to choose her.
I lock my jaw and force myself back to the facts.
Harper neutralised the circle. Saved Knox and his people. Smashed every paperweight she could reach. Then she rewrote the memories of those who built an unwilling soul ritual.
Illegal? Absolutely. Terrifying? Yes.
Necessary?
My stomach twists. I can already hear Meredith’s allies on the Council: You let a rogue mage alter thirteen minds and did nothing?
I did try. I asked—twice—and watched her flinch.
Liar, a small voice hisses. You wanted her to say something that made it fit your tidy little justice boxes.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
Arthur ruffles, offended.
“Not you,” I tell him.
Across the compound, Knox steadies his people by sheer will. I should go to him, take his statement, secure his cooperation.
What I want is to stand in the middle of the island and scream Harper’s name until she folds back in.
Instead, I make a decision.
I’ll file the report. I’ll hand over the footage, the names, the circle’s bare mechanics. Let them hurl every sanction at Meredith and her cronies. When the Council starts circling for a scapegoat—
They can have me.
I once mocked the Alpha Prime who swore he’d burn the world for his mate; her nature was twisted by magic—‘unnatural,’ I said. No woman merited such abasement.
Yet here I am. The greater fool.
I lift my face to the sky.
Run as far as you like, Harper House, I think, and I let the vow settle.
I will find you. I will level every barrier between you and safety and prove I am someone to run towards, not away from.
Arthur croaks once—soft, certain. My heartbeat steadies for the first time since she vanished.
I turn back to the chaos, towards the guards, prisoners, and the ringing phone that links to the Council chamber. Arguments will fly; clever men will claim they understand. Let them talk.
I have work.
And when it’s done—when Meredith is cuffed, the paperweights are dust, and the Council have convinced themselves they’ve cleaned up their mess—I’ll start the next job.
Finding my Harper.