Chapter 19
Seph
I woke to a small child staring at me.
She couldn’t have been more than five. She sat at the end of my bed, wide brown eyes fixed on me, dark hair a wild tumble around her shoulders.
I stayed still for a moment, taking in my surroundings. The room was small, single-sized. Lemon-yellow curtains stirred faintly at the window. The walls were a soft cream, the kind meant to be comforting. Beyond the glass, green fields stretched under open sky.
None of it felt familiar.
I pushed myself upright, keeping my eyes on the girl. “Um. Hi?”
She made a small, startled sound—more breath than voice—then slipped off the bed and bolted for the door. It banged shut behind her.
I pulled myself upright, wincing as pain flared through my skull. My head was wrapped in thick bandages. I lifted a hand and touched them carefully, feeling the tender ache of the wound beneath.
A glass of water sat beside the bed. I grabbed it and drank greedily.
Then I froze.
My hands were bare.
I set the glass down too hard and scanned the room. I’d been dressed in a baggy nightgown—thin, shapeless. My own clothes were nowhere in sight.
My pulse kicked up.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood—then immediately swayed as dizziness crashed over me. I grabbed the mattress, breathing through it until the room steadied.
From somewhere beyond the walls came a sound.
Growls. Moans.
I went still.
Where the hell am I?
I pulled on a long-sleeved henley that fell almost to my knees, and a pair of track pants I had to roll twice to keep from tripping over them.
But no gloves.
I felt exposed. Wrong. Like I was missing a layer of skin.
My shoes sat neatly beside the bed. I shoved my feet into them, skipping socks, then eased the door open.
The smell hit me first.
Clinical disinfectant. Bleach and cleaning chemicals. The sharp scent reminded me of a hospital.
The corridor was narrow and clean, leading toward what looked like a kitchen. As I moved down it, a door opened at the far end.
A teen stepped out—tall, all elbows and angles, maybe a few years younger than me. When he saw me, he froze.
“You’re awake,” he said.
Something growled behind him.
He shut the door.
I watched as he crossed to a sanitiser dispenser on the wall and scrubbed his hands, methodically.
Like he’d done it a hundred times.
“Where am I?” I asked.
He forced a smile. He had a gentle face, with kind grey eyes.
“My house,” he said. “My name is Andre. I found you on the road a few miles out on the highway on my way back from Telluride.” He glanced at my face. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
Something thudded against the wall behind him.
Andre followed my gaze, then smiled—too quick, too rehearsed.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “My mum’s just been a little… sick lately. It’s better if we keep the door shut.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His smile faltered for half a second.
“She went to the hospital for a check-up,” he said. “She picked something up while she was there. That’s all.”
He swallowed hard. “We’re fine.”
He raised his voice. “Mia!”
The little girl from my room poked her head out of her room.
“Mum needs her meds. Can you get them sweetheart?” he asked her.
She bit her lip and looked at me again, before ducking into the bathroom. She came out with a large needle ready to go.
I couldn’t help it, I flinched.
Another thud against the door made me jump.
My gaze snapped back to it.
Andre had one hand clamped around the handle, knuckles white, like he was holding the door shut by will alone.
Mia slipped up beside him and pressed a syringe into his palm.
“I’ll just be a sec,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Then he turned and slipped back into the room, shutting the door hard behind him.
“Can I help?” I asked, the words following him before I could stop myself.
“No!” he snapped from the other side. Then, softer, rushed. “I’ve got it. Thank you. Mia will get you some food.”
The door clicked.
Mia tugged on my arm.
I let her pull me away, step by careful step. She still hadn’t said a word.
She led me to a chair and pushed gently until I sat. Then she padded straight into the kitchen and came back with a small piece of dry bread.
“No. I don’t need to—”
She shoved it into my hand and made an exaggerated eating motion, brows knitting in stubborn insistence.
I stopped arguing.
The bread was stale, but edible. I felt horrible, because this family didn’t appear to have much.
I chewed slowly.
When Andre finally emerged from the room, he looked far too tired for someone his age.
He dropped into the chair beside me and rubbed his face with both hands.
“How long has she been sick?” I asked gently.
“Just a few days,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “But I think she’s getting better.”
I forced a smile. “I’m glad. And… thank you. I don’t mean to add to everything you’re dealing with.”
Andre smiled back, soft and genuine this time. “If I hadn’t helped you, my mum would’ve tanned my hide.” His eyes flicked toward the closed door. “She’s… pretty awesome.”
Another bang echoed down the hall.
I kept my voice steady. “Where’s your dad?”
“He left a couple of days ago to get help.” Andre hesitated. “But he got called in.”
“Called in?”
“To the command. He’s a soldier.”
I stilled. “A soldier?”
Gravel crunched outside.
I was on my feet before I realised I’d moved, crossing to the window.
Three large trucks were pulling into the driveway. Branded with the unmistakable sun-shaped crest of the Order of Light.
The bread slipped from my hand and hit the floor.
I staggered back a step.
Andre looked up at me. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern genuine.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the window.
“No,” I whispered.
Under my skin, my power stirred—drawn sharp by fear. It clawed for purchase, restless and hungry.
It wanted to consume.
A loud knock thundered against the front door.
Andre didn’t look away from me this time. He studied my face, something clicking into place, then stood.
I backed toward the hallway—toward the room I’d woken up in.
His eyes darkened. “Are you in trouble?”
“Yes.” My voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I can go.”
He lifted a hand, stopping me.
“No. Go back to the room. There’s a crawl space.”
“Andre—”
I met his gaze.
In his aura, I saw warm orange light—steady, compassionate. Empathic. Like Lyra. But threaded through it was something sharper, clearer.
He was a heart reader.
He smiled, small but certain. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”
The door banged again.
I ran.
In the bedroom, I yanked open the wardrobe. A false panel gave way beneath my fingers. I slipped inside and pulled it shut behind me.
The crawl space was narrow, running along the interior wall of the house. I edged forward carefully, heart hammering, every breath measured.
The walls were thin.
Thin enough that I could hear everything.
“Andre,” A male voice said.
“How are you today, Commander?” Andre asked politely.
“Not too good, my boy.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Andre said.
The commander sighed, and for a moment I thought I recognised him.
In the wall in front of me was a small hole—as if a picture frame had once hung there and been torn away. I pressed my eye to it and peered through.
Dominic Lightwood.
My father’s vice-chairman.
With Gideon gone, that made him the most powerful man in the Council.
Why was he here?
“I’m not sure if you’ve heard the news,” Dominic continued. “But Gideon Quinn has been taken by the Equinox Front. Not only that, but there are sightings of a dragon in the area. You can understand our concerns.”
“I thought the dragons were extinct?” Andre said quietly.
“So did we. But one of them attempted an attack on the Temple of the Order of the Light. We were lucky we had safeguards in place.”
Andre let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry to hear that. We don’t have a TV, so I didn’t know.”
“Understandable.” Dominic folded his hands behind his back. “The thing is, Andre, there have been sightings of some… unsavoury individuals in the area.” His gaze sharpened. “I wanted to ask if you’d noticed anything suspicious.”
Andre didn’t hesitate.
“No, sir,” he said evenly. “I’ve been busy taking care of my mother, that’s all.” A pause. “And Mia, of course.”
“Mia,” Dominic repeated. “Right.” He tilted his head slightly. “Is she here?”
“Somewhere.” Andre raised his voice. “Mia!”
Soft, hurried footsteps padded across the floor. The little girl appeared at his side and slipped her hand into his, silent as a mouse.
“Hello there,” Dominic said pleasantly.
“She doesn’t speak, sir,” Andre replied tightly.
Dominic inclined his head, as if this confirmed something he already knew. “I see.” His gaze lifted. “And how is your mother doing? Is she here as well?”
“My mother is sick.”
“Really?” Dominic’s tone warmed. “That’s a shame. I have Aiden Donahue with me outside. He’s an excellent healer. If you’d like, we could take a quick look.”
Andre didn’t move. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“It will only take a moment.” Dominic turned his head toward the door. “Aiden!”
He used the distraction to step inside.
Andre was forced to give ground as more soldiers followed, boots thudding over the threshold. Mia clutched his hand, pressing close to his side.
Guilt hit me hard and sharp. I’d brought this to their door.
Dominic didn’t look at them again.
He moved through the house at an unhurried pace, peering into rooms as he passed—measured, methodical, like a man already certain of what he would find.
Dominic paused near the end of the hall.
His gaze dropped.
At the foot of the wardrobe lay my crumpled nightgown.
He bent and lifted it between two fingers.
“This isn’t yours,” he said mildly.
Andre’s shoulders went tight.
Before he could respond, Mia moved.
She slipped free of his hand, padded over, and took hold of the hem of the nightgown. She tugged it once, then pressed it against her chest.
Dominic looked down at her.
She didn’t speak.
She simply pointed down the hall—toward the closed door of her mother’s room—then wrapped her arms around herself, mimicking a shiver.
“Mia likes to hold my mother’s clothes,” Andre said quietly. “They make her feel safe.”
Dominic watched them both for a long moment, eyes unreadable. “I see.”
“Sir!”
The shout came from farther down the hall.
I heard muffled cursing—panicked, abrupt.
Then the screaming started. It cut through the house, raw and terrified.
Andre’s head snapped toward the sound. He saw the open doorway at the end of the hall and went deathly pale.
“No,” he whispered. Then, louder—raw. “No!”
“Feral!” Aiden shouted.
Soldiers surged into the house, boots pounding, weapons raised. Someone slammed into Andre, shoving him hard back against the wall. Mia was dragged with him, crushed to his side.
“Don’t!” Andre fought them, wild now. “Don’t kill her—please! It’s not her fault!”
Metal clicked.
Orders barked.
Mia made a sound I’d never heard from her before—a sharp, broken gasp that tore out of her chest, halfway between a sob and a scream.
It sliced straight through me.
I shoved back against the interior wall. The air thickened, heavy and wrong—like the light itself was being dragged away.
Then the chains broke.
Metal snapped. Someone yelled.
Andre’s mother burst into the kitchen, shoving soldiers aside as if they weighed nothing.
For one terrible moment, I saw her clearly.
She wore a white nightgown, like the one I’d been given—only this one was soaked through with blood and darkened stains. Her skin was corpse-pale, her face smeared red. Her hands were twisted into claws. Her teeth bared.
“Mummy no!” Andre screamed.
She lunged—not toward the soldiers, not toward the noise—but straight for the wall.
Straight for me.
For a heartbeat, I swear she saw me.
A taser struck her from behind. She convulsed and crashed forward, her face slamming into the wall inches from where I stood.
She slid down slowly, breath rattling, hands scraping weakly against the plaster—reaching.
For me.
The soldiers stared at one another, confused. Disoriented.
But I understood.
I had drawn her.
Fuck.
I bit down on my hand, hard, swallowing my sobs before they could escape.
“What the hell was that Dominic?” Aiden demanded. “She charged straight for the wall.”
“Is there anyone else here?” Dominic snapped. “Any animals?”
“No!”
“If you are lying to me, boy—”
“I’m not!” Andre shouted. “Stop hurting my mother!”
Soldiers restrained him, dragging him back as he fought uselessly against their grip.
Dominic’s gaze swept the room.
I ducked lower, heart hammering, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Harbouring a feral is a crime, Andre. Take them both,” Dominic said coldly. “The mother too.”
For a moment, Dominic lingered in the house, his gaze drifting toward the wardrobe at the end of the hall. Then he turned away.
Hands closed around Andre’s arms. Another soldier scooped Mia up, her small body limp with shock.
For half a second, Andre twisted free just enough to look back down the hall—toward the room where his mother lay, unmoving.
His face crumpled.
Something inside me broke with it.
Tears streamed down my face, silent and unstoppable.
And then I saw it.
Andre’s hand slipped to his pocket. His wallet fell to the floor and skidded beneath a chair.
Then he closed his eyes.
And let them take him.