Chapter 6
Jess
I wandered the compound halls, flicking my lighter in my hands.
Click. Click. Click.
I hadn’t been able to light a fire since Darkmoor. I felt my power bubbling under my skin, desperate to get out.
But these godforsaken hallways just kept going!
I rubbed my face with my hands, overwhelmed with tiredness. I couldn’t sleep.
I wouldn’t.
Not until I lit something.
Only then did the nightmares go away.
And goddamn Dev. He was always there.
I know it wasn’t exactly his fault. But just looking at him made me want to punch him.
Click. Click. Click.
There had to be a way out away from people. I couldn’t risk lighting up inside.
Not now.
Not while Seph was in these walls.
I couldn’t give a shit about anyone else.
The thought landed ugly and sharp — but it was true. Survival first. Everything else later.
I kicked at the walls. “Fuck!”
My skin burned and flushed, heat crawling under my ribs, pressing, searching for release. I started to hyperventilate.
It’s been three fucking days!
“Fuck fuck fuck!” I fell to my knees.
A spark flared — died.
Something in my chest dropped.
I wasn’t going to get fire tonight.
My knees hit the floor before I realised I’d stopped standing.
Without my fire, thoughts came in — not gently, not one at a time.
Things I couldn’t shut out.
Like Kyra’s cries.
Jess—please. Help me.
Click. Click. Click. Nothing. Clickclickclick—
“Whoa, are you OK?” A voice startled me. I looked up and saw Sable Quinn standing beside me.
I jumped, ready to bolt.
Sable crouched in front of me slowly, like she was approaching a skittish animal. She was dressed in leathers, as if she had just come from sparring practise. Her hair was pulled back tightly in a bun.
“Easy,” she said softly. “You’re not in trouble.”
I laughed once, sharp and broken. “Didn’t think I was.”
“No,” she agreed. “But you’re braced like you expect to be.”
That hit harder than it should have.
I dragged a hand through my hair, the lighter still clicking uselessly in my fist.
Click. Click. Click.
“I just need to burn something for five minutes,” I muttered. “Somewhere no one’s going to freak out.”
Sable’s gaze flicked briefly to the lighter. Not disapproval. Assessment.
“You haven’t burned anything since Darkmoor,” she said.
I froze. “How do you—”
“I pay attention,” she replied calmly. “Especially to the people who are trying not to fall apart.”
Something in my chest twisted. I hated that she could see it. Hated that she’d named it so easily.
“I’m fine,” I snapped automatically.
She didn’t argue.
“That may be,” she said. “But fine people don’t usually end up on the floor begging their skin not to tear itself open.”
I swallowed hard, my throat burning. The pressure under my skin surged again, heat rolling through my veins like a warning.
“I can’t sleep,” I said finally. “If I don’t burn something, I don’t sleep. And if I don’t sleep—” My voice cracked. I clenched my jaw and looked away. “It gets bad.”
Sable nodded once, like this confirmed something she’d already suspected.
“You’re controlling it,” she said. “That matters.”
I barked out a laugh. “Yeah? Because it feels like it’s controlling me.”
She leaned back on her heels, unthreatening, steady. “Control isn’t about absence. It’s about direction. About choosing who you point it at.”
I stared at her despite myself.
“There are places here,” she continued, “shielded training zones. Reinforced. Isolated.” She paused. “Places where you could light a fire without anyone panicking. Without risking anyone.”
“No one needs to know,” she said calmly. “And no one will be in danger — if we do it properly.”
I searched her face for the catch. For the hook.
For the moment she’d tell me what this would cost.
“And what,” I asked warily, “you just… give me access?”
“If you want it,” she said. “I can walk you through the protocols. Help you set boundaries that work with your magic instead of against it.”
No one had ever said with before.
My fingers stopped clicking the lighter.
“You’d do that?” I asked. “Why?”
“Watch,” Sable said. She flicked her hands and suddenly violet flames poured off her hands.
“Well fuck. Is that ultraviolet light?”
“It is.”
“You controlled it? How?”
“Practise. Pain.” She shrugged slightly. “And control. You don’t get to wield something like this without learning how to hold it.”
Sable held my gaze, steady and unflinching.
“Because uncontrolled power gets people hurt,” she said. “I imagine that’s a lesson you already learned, Jess.”
I hid my flinch, but nodded. That wasn’t comforting.
But at least it was honest.
I looked down at my shaking hands. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“I know,” Sable said immediately.
She stood, offering me her hand — not rushing, not crowding.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”
I hesitated.
Then I took it.
And as she pulled me to my feet, the heat under my skin didn’t vanish — but it settled.
For the first time since Darkmoor, I didn’t feel like I was about to explode.