Chapter 40
Kyron
I can’t stop thinking about last night.
We’re walking to the administrative building — all of us, moving together like we always do — and my brain is somewhere else entirely. Back in my room. Back in my bed. Back in the moment when everything went tight and bright and I felt something click into place.
Not just physical. Not just good.
Real.
A bond. An actual fucking bond. The kind that’s supposed to be myth, exaggeration, some historical footnote.
I felt it. I felt her. Her heartbeat syncing with mine. A thread going taut between us that had nothing to do with bodies and everything to do with something older. Something the system says doesn’t exist anymore.
Maybe never existed at all.
We’re cutting through the east quad when Rane gestures toward the tree line.
“Getting warmer finally. We should hit the lake soon.”
“There’s a lake?” Nova glances in the direction he’s pointing.
“Just past the north boundary. Technically off-campus, but nobody cares.” Rane grins. “It’s where everyone goes when training gets too intense. Or when Locke needs to cool off after punching someone.”
“I’ve punched you exactly once.”
“It was memorable.”
Nova’s quiet for a second. “I haven’t been swimming since my parents.”
“Well,” Rane says finally, giving her a moment, “when this is over, we’re fixing that.”
She almost smiles.
I fall back a few steps, letting Locke and Rane pull ahead with Nova between them. Vaelor’s beside me, steady as always.
“Hey. Quick question.”
“Yeah?”
“Bonds.” I keep my voice low. “The real ones. Not clusters — actual bonds. Soul connection, fated, whatever. Do you think they ever actually existed?”
Vaelor glances at me. His mouth curves.
“Bonds? Like the old stories?”
“Yeah.”
His smile widens. “You getting all romantic on us now?”
“Oh, shut up.”
“One night with her and suddenly you’re asking about soul connections—”
“Vaelor.”
He laughs, holding up a hand in surrender.
“Okay, okay.” The teasing fades but the warmth stays.
“I mean… there are references in the archives. Old texts, records that existed before the system. But nothing verified. Most Memory scholars think it was just how people explained strong cluster attachments before we understood proximity science.” He pauses. “Why?”
I can’t exactly say because I felt one lock into place last night while I was inside her.
“Just wondering.”
Vaelor studies me for a second. I can feel him trying to read what’s underneath the question.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
I’m not fine. I’m carrying proof of something that supposedly doesn’t exist anymore. Something I don’t have words for. Something I don’t understand.
And I can’t tell anyone.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Nova laughs at something Rane says up ahead, and my chest tightens. She has no idea. She thinks last night was just… good sex. A right decision. Her body knowing before her brain caught up.
She doesn’t know what actually happened.
Neither does anyone else.
I watch Locke’s hand brush her back. Watch Rane lean in to say something that makes her smile. Watch the way they orbit her without thinking about it.
Will they feel it too? When it’s their turn?
Or was it just me?
I don’t know which answer scares me more.
I shake it off. Can’t think about this now.
We’re about to walk into a room full of people who are going to be watching every move we make.
I’ve never seen the building they take us to.
That’s the first thing that feels wrong.
I’ve been on this campus for years. I know every administrative office, every training facility, every shortcut and back hallway. I’ve never been in this building before.
It’s tucked behind the main offices — gray stone, narrow windows, no signage. The kind of place you’d walk past a hundred times without noticing. The kind of place that wants to be overlooked.
We don’t overlook it today. We’re escorted to it.
Four security officers met us at the edge of the quad. Four. For a “routine conversation.” They flank us without a word, and now we’re walking through corridors that smell like nothing — antiseptic and empty, scrubbed clean of anything human.
Locke’s jaw is tight. I see him clocking the cameras, the locked doors, the lack of windows.
Rane’s gone quiet, which is worse than his nervous chatter.
Vaelor’s hand brushes Nova’s back, steadying her, and Beckett is watching everything with that flat expression that means he’s watching for anything that could mean something.
Nova’s shoulders are creeping up toward her ears. She’s scared but trying not to show it.
I want to reach for her. But I don’t.
Not yet.
The security officers stop at a door. One of them opens it and gestures us inside.
The room is small. Clinical. A table in the center with chairs on both sides — one side clearly meant for us, the other for whoever’s about to sit across from us and pretend this is a conversation instead of an interrogation.
“Sit,” the officer says.
We sit. Nova ends up between me and Locke. Good. I need to be close to her.
The door closes behind us. We wait.
One minute. Two. The silence presses down.
Then the door opens again.
One man. Alone. He crosses to the opposite side of the table and sits down without greeting us, without introducing himself, without any of the procedural niceties that are supposed to make this feel normal.
He doesn’t need to introduce himself.
I know who he is the second I see his face.
The same sharp jaw. The same cold eyes. The same way of looking at people like they’re specimens instead of humans.
Silas’s father.
Laith Crux.
He’s older, obviously — gray at his temples, lines around his mouth — but the resemblance is unmistakable. This is where Silas learned to watch people like he’s calculating their worth.
Laith’s eyes move across us. Assessing. Dismissing Locke, Rane, Vaelor, Beckett, Trey.
Then they land on Nova.
And stay there.
“Thank you for coming,” he says. His voice is smooth, almost pleasant. Definitely wrong. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.”
No one answers. We’re not stupid enough to fill his silences for him.
“There was an incident recently. A fire in your residence. We’re simply following up.”
“We already spoke with campus administration,” Locke says. “Filed a report.”
“Yes. I’ve read it.” Laith doesn’t look at Locke. He’s still watching Nova. “Electrical malfunction. Faulty wiring. Very unfortunate.”
The way he says it makes clear he doesn’t believe a word.
“However.” He folds his hands on the table. “Given the unique nature of your cluster, we felt a more thorough conversation was warranted.”
Unique nature.
I feel Nova tense beside me.
“What do you mean, unique?” Rane asks.
Laith’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Six members is unusual. Seven, now, with Mr. Dalton’s recent… proximity patterns.” His gaze flicks to Trey, then back to Nova. “And of course, there’s the matter of Miss Wilder’s status.”
“My status,” Nova repeats. Her voice is flat but I can hear the edge underneath.
“No mark. No House affiliation. Fifteen years outside the system.” Laith tilts his head. “You must understand our interest. You’re quite unprecedented.”
He says it like a compliment. It’s not.
“I’m not unprecedented,” Nova says. “I’m just late.”
“Are you?”
The question hangs there. I watch his eyes trace over her face, down to her wrists — bare, unmarked — and back up again.
Nova’s getting warm.
I feel it before I see it. The temperature beside me climbing, heat radiating off her skin like she’s running a fever. Her hands are clenched in her lap and there’s the faintest sheen of sweat at her hairline.
Shit.
I shift in my chair, casual, and let my hand rest on her forearm. Just a light touch. Easy to miss if you’re not looking for it.
The effect is immediate. I feel the heat leach into my palm — my body running cold enough to absorb it — and her shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. She doesn’t look at me, but her breathing steadies.
Laith notices the touch. His eyes track to my hand on her arm, linger for a moment, then return to her face.
Fuck.
“I’d like to discuss your childhood,” he says to Nova. “Before the system located you.”
“There’s not much to discuss.”
“Humor me.”
Nova’s quiet for a moment. I keep my hand on her arm, thumb brushing her skin, keeping her temperature down.
“I survived,” she says finally. “That’s it. I moved around. I stayed invisible. I didn’t die.”
“For fifteen years.”
“Yes.”
“Alone.”
“Yes.”
“No assistance from anyone? No help from any House, any individual, any… organization?”
The question has teeth. I feel Nova’s arm heat up under my palm again.
“No,” she says. “Just me.”
Laith studies her. The silence stretches.
“And your parents,” he says. “They died when you were eleven, correct?”
Nova goes rigid.
“That’s in whatever file you have,” she says. Her voice has gone cold. “You already know the answer.”
“I know what the records say. I’m asking what you remember.”
“I don’t remember much.”
“Nothing at all?”
“I was eleven. It was traumatic. Things are fuzzy.” Each word is clipped. Controlled. “Is there a point to this?”
Laith leans back in his chair. Still smiling that empty smile.
“Just trying to understand how a child survives alone for fifteen years without any intervention. Without any support system. Without—” his eyes drop to her wrists again, “—any mark at all.”
“I was careful.”
“You were remarkable.”
Again, it sounds like praise. Again, it’s not.
Nova’s temperature is climbing despite my hand on her arm. I press harder, trying to draw more heat, and her jaw tightens.
“I think we’re done,” Locke says.
Laith doesn’t look at him. “I’ll decide when we’re done.”
“You said this was a conversation. Conversations are voluntary.”
“Are they?” Laith’s smile sharpens. “I don’t recall saying it was voluntary.”
The room goes cold. Not temperature — atmosphere.
Vaelor shifts in his seat. Rane’s hand twitches toward his hair — stops himself. Beckett is watching Laith with an expression I’ve never seen on him before.
And Nova—
Nova is burning up.
I can feel it now, really feel it — heat pouring off her in waves, soaking into my hand, more than I can absorb. Sweat is beading at her temples. Her skin is flushed. If this goes on much longer, everyone in this room is going to notice something is very, very wrong.
“We need a break,” I say.
Laith’s eyes cut to me. “Excuse me?”
“A break. Five minutes. Unless you want her passing out in your interrogation room.”
I don’t bother pretending this isn’t what it is.
His gaze drops to my hand on Nova’s arm. To her flushed face. To the way she’s breathing too fast.
Something flickers in his expression. Interest. The kind I don’t like.
“Of course,” he says smoothly. “Take all the time you need.”
He stands. Buttons his jacket. Walks to the door.
Then he pauses, one hand on the frame, and looks back at Nova.
“We’ll continue this soon, Miss Wilder. I have so many more questions.”
The door closes behind him.
Nova lets out a breath like she’s been holding it for the last ten minutes. Her whole body sags, and I pull her closer, both hands on her now, absorbing as much heat as I can.
“What the fuck was that?” Rane breathes.
“That was Silas’s father,” I say.
Everyone goes still.
“That—” Locke stops. Starts again. “That was—”
“Laith Crux. Nightmare Order. High-level. And very, very interested in Nova.”
Nova shudders against me. For a second—just a second—the heat eases. Then I feel it start to climb again.
“He knew things,” she whispers. “He knew about my parents. He was asking about them like—”
“Like he already had the answers,” Beckett finishes quietly.
“This wasn’t about the fire,” Vaelor says. “This was never about the fire.”
No. It wasn’t.
It was about her. What she is. What she might become.
And now Laith Crux knows something is different about her. He saw me touching her. He saw her overheating. He saw the way we reacted when he pushed.
He doesn’t know what he’s looking at yet. But he’s going to keep looking until he figures it out.
I hold Nova tighter and try not to think about what happens when he does.