Chapter 20
Nadia
It’s evening. The cafeteria is busier than usual—shift change bringing multiple teams together at once. The noise is familiar. Comforting. Voices layered over the clatter of trays and utensils, the aroma of hot food, the easy rhythm of people who work together and trust each other with their lives.
This is home. Has been since I got here.
I grab a tray and load it with food I’m not sure I can eat. My appetite has been unpredictable since the heat cycle started, and even though it’s waning now, my stomach still feels unsettled. But I need to maintain appearances. Need to prove I’m fine. Normal. Ready to get back to work.
Not driven by my wolf, who wants things I won’t give her.
Not here. Not now.
I scan the room and spot them at our usual table near the windows—Mara, Ember, Luke, Kieran. My people. My comrades in arms. I can’t believe I almost turned my back on them forever.
Mara sees me first and waves enthusiastically. “Nadia! Get over here. We’re taking bets on whether the cafeteria meatloaf is actually beef or an elaborate conspiracy involving questionable protein sources.”
Vintage Mara—turning dinner into a paranormal investigation.
I cross to their table and slide into the empty seat between Ember and Kieran. “My money’s on questionable protein sources.”
“See?” Mara points at me triumphantly. “Nadia gets it. Luke thinks I’m being paranoid.”
Luke—tall, dragon, Craven clan—gives Mara a look that’s equal parts exasperated and fond. “I think you see conspiracies in everything. Last week, you were convinced the new coffee blend was designed to make us complacent.”
“It was suspiciously smooth,” Mara defends. “No coffee should be that easy to drink. Something’s wrong with it.”
Ember laughs and leans into Luke’s shoulder. “Don’t encourage her. She’ll start a podcast episode about it.”
“Already recorded,” Mara says cheerfully. “Drops Thursday. ‘The Great Seattle Coffee Conspiracy: What They Don’t Want You To Know.’”
The easy banter wraps around me like a weighted blanket. This is what I needed. Normal conversation. Friends who don’t ask complicated questions. Just… this.
Except Kieran is quiet beside me. He’s picking at his food without eating much, his expression distant. He does that sometimes—gets lost in memories he doesn’t talk about. Three years as a Syndicate prisoner leaves marks that don’t heal easily.
“How are you doing?” I ask him quietly.
He glances at me. His eyes are amber-gold, haunted. “Fine. You?”
“Fine.”
We’re both lying. We both know it. But neither of us pushes.
Mara, however, has no such reservations. “So, Nadia. All that time in the wilderness with a mysterious defector. That’s basically the plot of every enemies-to-lovers romance novel ever written. Tell me everything. Did he brood handsomely? Did you have to huddle for warmth?”
My face heats immediately. “It wasn’t like that.”
It pretty much was.
“Mmm-hmm.” Mara’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Close quarters. Adrenaline. Chemistry. I’m just saying, if this were a movie, there would definitely be a scene where—”
“Mara.” Ember cuts her off gently but firmly. “Maybe we don’t interrogate Nadia about her classified mission?”
“It wasn’t a mission,” I say. The correction comes out sharper than I mean it to. “I resigned. Went rogue. Viktor didn’t authorize anything.”
Kieran blinks. “Wait. You—”
I guess not everyone knows that I threw a fit and stormed out.
“Everyone knows she brought him in,” Luke says carefully. His dragon senses are reading me like a book. “That’s what matters.”
“Must have been difficult,” Ember adds. The witch side of her hybrid heritage makes her sensitive to emotional currents, and right now mine are probably screaming. She’s giving me space to deflect or answer honestly.
“It was a survival situation,” I say, keeping my voice level. Professional. “There was a Syndicate attack on the convoy he was in. I got him out, we found shelter, then I brought him in.”
My wolf paces. She doesn’t like the clinical summary. Doesn’t like reducing our experience to an emotionless report.
She wants more.
I ignore her.
“And now the Council has granted him sanctuary,” Ember says. There’s understanding in her tone. Her mother defected from the Syndicate not long ago; she knows what it means to believe someone can change sides.
Kieran’s fork clatters against his plate. “I can’t believe they actually did it. Granted sanctuary to one of them.”
The table goes quiet.
“They torture people,” Kieran continues. His voice is low but intense. “Brainwash them. Turn them into weapons. I spent years—” He stops. Swallows hard. “He’s Syndicate. That doesn’t just go away.”
“Some people realize they’re on the wrong side,” Ember says gently. “My mother did. She defected. Brought me with her. Aurora welcomed us too.”
“That’s different.” Kieran meets her eyes. “She had a child. A reason to leave. What’s his reason? Convenience? Got caught doing something and needs protection?”
“He has intelligence on Vex’s hybrid experiments.” The words come out clipped. Too defensive. I dial it back. “That’s what formed the Council’s decision.”
Kieran’s expression shutters. He knows about Vex’s experiments. Probably feels guilty about that too.
“I’m sorry,” I add quietly. “I know this is difficult for you.”
He nods once. Doesn’t speak. Goes back to pushing food around his plate.
My wolf won’t settle. She’s agitated now. Protective. She doesn’t like Kieran’s pain, but also doesn’t like defending Jericho to people who matter.
Mara breaks the tension. “So what’s he like? Tall, dark, and brooding? Does he do that thing where he stares into the distance, looking tortured by his past?”
“Mara,” I say. Warning.
“I’m just curious! You spent days with the guy. Longest interaction any of us has had with a Syndicate commander. What’s your read?”
Everyone’s watching me now. Waiting.
What’s my read? That he’s dangerous and controlled and centuries of discipline barely contains what’s underneath? That his fire feels like coming home? That when he kissed me, I forgot every reason I should hate him?
I realize I’m pressing my thighs together. Muscle memory. The phantom taste of dragon and want.
I shift in my seat. Keep my breathing even.
“He’s…” I search for words that aren’t lies but aren’t the whole truth. “Professional. Military. Follows protocol. If his intelligence is accurate, then he’s a valuable asset.”
Luke is still watching me. Reading something in my expression that I’m trying to hide.
“But do you trust him?” Kieran asks. Direct. Challenging.
Do I trust Jericho? I don’t know. I barely know him. Shared survival doesn’t build trust. It builds something else. Something complicated and messy and utterly inappropriate given everything he’s done.
“I trust the Council’s judgment,” I say instead. Deflection.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Before I can answer, Ember intervenes. “Kieran. He’s alive. He has information that can help us. That’s what matters.”
He subsides. Not convinced but willing to let it drop.
I’m grateful. I don’t know how to answer that question honestly without revealing too much.
I realize I’ve been scanning the cafeteria while we talk. Looking at faces. Searching for someone who won’t be here. Jericho’s under restrictions. Monitored. He wouldn’t be allowed in general population spaces yet.
But I keep looking anyway.
My wolf approves. She wants to find him. Wants to know where he is, what he’s doing, if he’s safe.
I tell her to shut up.
Mara notices. Of course she does. “Looking for someone?”
“No.” Too quick.
Her eyebrow arches. She knows. I can see it in her face—that particular mix of curiosity and amusement that means she’s figured something out.
Ember is watching me now, too. Reading my body language with her hybrid instincts that see through lies. She and Mara exchange a look. Some silent communication I’m not privy to.
Viktor’s arrival pulls their attention away.
He appears at our table with his own tray, shoulders relaxed in the way they only get when he’s off duty. Not commander. Just… one of them. Family.
“Mind if I join you?” he asks.
“Of course.” Mara gestures to the empty chair. “We were just discussing the meatloaf conspiracy.”
Viktor sits and eyes his food skeptically. “Should I be concerned?”
“Always,” Mara says seriously. “Trust nothing. Question everything. That’s the motto.”
He almost smiles. Then his attention shifts to me. “Nadia. How are you doing after your ordeal?”
Viktor has always looked after his people—one of the reasons Aurora inspires such loyalty. The question is real. He wants to know.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Ready to report back to duty whenever you need me.”
Mara jumps in. “Does this mean she’s back on the team?”
Viktor studies me. “There’s always a place for you here, Nadia. If you’re ready. If you want it.”
“I do.” The words are immediate. This is home. These people are family. I belong here.
“Good.” He looks pleased. Relieved, even. “I’m glad to have you back. We need you.” Then his gaze sharpens slightly. Professional assessment returning. “As long as you have a clear head about… everything.”
The pause before “everything” is deliberate. He means Jericho. Means the complications. Means whatever happened in those mountains that he suspects, but I haven’t confirmed.
“Completely clear,” I say. I hold his gaze. Keep my voice steady. Convincing.
I’m lying. To Viktor. To them. To myself.
But Viktor accepts it. “Good. Briefing tomorrow, 0800 hours. I want you there.”
“I’ll be there.”
The conversation shifts. Mission details. Training schedules. Facility updates. Normal Aurora business. I participate. Answer questions. Laugh at appropriate moments.
But part of me is still searching the room. Still wondering where Jericho is right now. What he’s doing. If he’s eating alone in his restricted quarters. If he’s thinking about the motel room, the way I can’t stop thinking about it.
My wolf won’t settle. She’s pacing circles beneath my ribs. Wanting. Needing.
I catch myself and turn my attention back to the table. Luke is telling a story about a training mishap. Ember is laughing. Mara is interjecting with commentary about conspiracy theories involving faulty equipment. Kieran is almost smiling.
This is good. This is what I need.
Except heat flickers through me when I think about Jericho’s hands. The way they felt on my skin. The way his fire answered my call.
I shift again. Cross my legs. Try to focus on Luke’s story.
The meal winds down. People start dispersing back to duties or quarters. I should feel better. Surrounded by family. Accepted back. Normality restored.
I don’t.
Mara catches my arm as I’m clearing my tray. “Hey. You sure you’re okay?”
She’s not teasing now. Just concerned. The way good friends are.
“I’m fine,” I say. Again. “Just tired. I need sleep.”
“If you need to talk—”
“I know. Thank you.”
She squeezes my arm and lets me go.
I head back toward my quarters. The corridors are quieter now. Fewer people. Night shift taking over.
I should sleep. Tomorrow is back to work. Back to normal. Back to being the operative Viktor trusts to have a clear head.
My wolf whines. She doesn’t believe any of this will work.
Neither do I.
But I can hope that tomorrow brings clarity. That sleep will settle the restlessness. That my body will remember it has a job to do and a life that doesn’t include a Syndicate commander with eyes like winter storms.
I can hope.
Even if hope feels like another lie I’m telling myself.