13. Leire #3
The sob that tears out of me is ugly. Gasping. Not the pretty crying of movie heroines but the real thing—snot and tears and sounds that come from somewhere so deep they scrape on the way out.
I don’t care. I can’t stop.
Arms wrap around me. Solid. Warm. Aslan pulls me against his chest, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other pressed flat between my shoulder blades. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t try to fix it. Doesn’t offer empty platitudes about how everything will be okay.
He just holds me.
I cry into his shirt until I can’t anymore. Until the sobs fade to hiccups and then to silence. Until the grief has carved out everything it wants and left me hollow. His heartbeat is steady under my ear. His arms don’t waver.
“I hate them.” My voice is wrecked. Barely recognizable. “Whoever did this—the Preservers, the people in my old coven who helped them—I want to destroy them.”
“We will.” His voice rumbles through his chest into mine. “We’re going to find them. Every single one. And we’re going to make them pay for what they took from you.”
The certainty in his voice steadies me. Not hope—I’m not ready for hope. But purpose. Direction. A target for all this rage to point at.
I pull back. Wipe my face with my sleeve. Look at Shadow’s still form.
“Can we break the control?”
Aslan studies the magical bindings. “Not here. Not without preparation. The magic is too old, too layered. We’d need Anouk—her expertise, her supplies. A proper ritual. Maybe tomorrow morning.”
“But we can take him with us?”
“Yes.”
I gather Shadow into my arms. He’s lighter than he should be—they haven’t been feeding him properly, or the control magic is consuming his life force along with his will. His body is limp, unresponsive, but warm. Still alive.
Still fighting, somewhere deep inside.
“I’m going to fix this.” I press my face against his fur, breathing in the familiar scent beneath the neglect. “I’m going to get you back. I promise.”
He doesn’t respond. But I feel something—a whisper of the familiar bond we used to share. Faint. Fragile. But there.
Aslan helps me stand. His hand lingers at my elbow, supporting without crowding.
“We should go. Before whoever monitors those wards realizes they’ve been breached.”
I nod. Settle Shadow more securely in my arms.
We leave the mill, stepping back into the mist, heading for the safety of Mistvale proper. The walk is silent. The grief is still there—raw, aching—but underneath it, determination is building. Purpose. The kind of cold, quiet fury that doesn’t burn out. That sustains itself until the job is done.
We’re halfway back to town when Aslan stops.
“What is it?”
He turns to face me. We’re alone here—no witnesses, no interruptions. Just the two of us and the cat in my arms and everything we’d just found out sitting heavy between us.
“This doesn’t end today.” His voice is low. Rough. “The Preservers, the conspiracy—it’s bigger than one cell, one plot. Whoever sent Iskra, whoever controlled Shadow—they’re still out there. They’ll come for you again.”
“I know.”
“I’m not leaving.” The words come out like they cost him. “Whatever happens next—the investigation, the danger, whatever we find—I’m in it. With you.”
My breath catches. “Aslan—”
“Let me finish.” He reaches up. His hand hovers near my face, then settles—gentle, so gentle—against my cheek. His palm is warm. “I shouldn’t let myself have anyone to lose.”
His thumb traces my cheekbone. I lean into the touch without meaning to.
“I thought—I can handle this. I can protect you without feeling anything. Keep my distance. Do my job.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
His laugh surprises us both. Low. Real. “Terribly.”
“I am a delight.”
“You’re impossible.” But he’s almost smiling. “The Preservers started this war. We’re going to finish it. And when it’s over—when you’re safe—”
“When I’m safe?” I shift Shadow in my arms, freeing one hand to press against Aslan’s chest. His heart beats steady beneath my palm. Strong. Certain. “What then?”
He doesn’t answer with words. He answers by leaning down, resting his forehead against mine, breathing me in like I’m the only air that matters.
We stay like that for a long moment. Not kissing—not yet. Something more intimate. More terrifying. The promise of things we’re both too scared to name but too stubborn to deny.
“We should get Shadow home.” I pull back first because one of us has to. Because there’s a war to fight and a familiar to save and revenge to plan. “The sooner we break the control magic, the sooner he can tell us what he knows.”
Aslan nods. His hand falls from my face. But his eyes hold mine for another beat—two—three.
“We?” Something warm shifts in his expression—not the guarded version of himself he usually shows the world, but the real thing, brief and undefended. “Did you think I was leaving?”
I think about everything that’s happened. The attacks. The revelations. The way he’s been there through all of it, in my kitchen, standing between me and danger like it’s the only place he’s ever belonged.
“No.” I adjust my grip on Shadow and start walking again. “I didn’t.”
We move through the mist, heading for town. For Anouk. For answers.