Chapter Twelve
Lia
My room isn’t large, but there’s a small round table tucked into the corner with a few chairs. Kylo sets the box down, and I slide into a seat.
“I didn’t know which toppings you liked.” He sits, shoulders tight. “I brought a few options.”
“I’m not picky with pizza.” I grab a slice. “As long as there’s no anchovies.” I wrinkle my nose. “This is way too much. You can have some too.”
I peel open the ranch container and dip the pizza in. The first bite is warm, greasy, and salty. The ache in my stomach loosens, and a soft groan slips out.
He shifts in his seat, his boots scuffing loudly against the floor.
The first slice is gone before I realize I’ve reached for it again. I slow down on the next bite. The tension in my neck unwinds, inch by inch, until my shoulders drop. “This is so good.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, revealing his dimple. “Figured you were hungry after our training.”
He takes a slice, dragging it through the ranch and scooping up a heavy dollop. His jaw flexes as he chews.
I try to pace myself, but the pizza is gone before I’m ready for the meal to end.
He wipes his mouth with a napkin and glances toward the corner of the room. “Is your fridge stocked?”
“Yeah.” I nearly trip over my own feet as I stand to retrieve two waters. “I don’t drink soda. All I have is water.”
“Water’s fine.” He takes the bottle, his fingers brushing mine—a brief, searing contact that I pretend not to feel. “I’m not a fan of sugary drinks.”
Of course he’s not. The man looks like he was carved from granite.
He pauses, the bottle halfway to his lips. “Carved from granite, huh?”
My face goes up in flames. I look down, suddenly very interested in the label on my own water bottle. “Stop doing that. It’s invasive.”
“I’ll take the compliment,” he adds with a lazy, arrogant tilt of his head that makes me want to kick him.
“It wasn’t a compliment. It was an observation.” I gesture at his absurd physique. “You know you’re attractive. Nobody looks like that by accident.”
He lets out a short, rough bark of a laugh, more surprise than amusement. “Two compliments in one day? I’m flattered.”
I’m sure you are, you cocky—
“Go on,” he dares, his eyes locking onto mine with a challenge that makes my stomach flip. “Finish the thought.”
I can’t hide my smile, though I bite my lip to try. “I don’t think I will.”
He stands, gathering the empty containers and napkins, dropping them into the bin by the table.
“Are you feeling better?”
Did Marco give me a concussion? Am I hallucinating a version of him that isn’t barking orders?
I search for the drill sergeant or the cold telepath, but find neither. His expression is unreadably soft. He’s not looming over me like he does on the mats.
He’s just… there.
“Yes.” It comes out softer than I intended. I’m staring at the door behind him, dreading the moment he walks through it. The emptiness of the room is waiting to rush back in, along with images of Julian I don’t want.
“If you feel hungry again, eat something. You need to fuel your body for our sessions. Leo and Zayne are heading out on a recon mission tomorrow. You and I will resume training.”
“Leo’s going on a mission?”
He’s leaving me? What if Marco—
“Marco won’t touch you again,” he says. “Not while I’m here.”
“Okay.”
He steps into the hallway. “Get some sleep. You need it.”
“Kylo,” I call.
Our eyes lock. I’m paralyzed by the heat in his stare.
“Thank you.”
He studies me for a beat, then nods. “Rest.”
He walks away, leaving the quiet behind him. It doesn’t turn on me the way it usually does.
The bed waits where I left it. Sheets twisted. A dark, damp imprint on the pillow. Evidence of the girl who’d been folded into herself not long ago.
I don’t curl back into that spot.
I sit on the edge, breathing until the room feels real again.
For the first time since I’ve been here, I don’t want to be alone with it.
The days blur together.
Training hasn’t let up.
It’s evolved.
Kylo still pushes me until my legs collapse. Every session is a grueling cycle of drills that leaves my muscles burning.
When I catch my reflection in the mirror, the girl staring back has changed. My arms are tighter. It’s a slow transformation, but progress nonetheless.
Kylo doesn’t let me skip meals. He hands me protein bars after each session and adds food to my plate at dinner. He watches more than he talks and never misses anything.
Marco hasn’t been around to cause any problems.
Leo, though, is another story. I barely see him. The distance between us keeps growing. We used to talk every day, and now we share a few words over dinner before exhaustion takes over.
Then we wake up and do it again.
“Let’s practice telepathy,” Kylo says.
I can run a mile without gasping, but thirty seconds of Kylo inside my head drains me in a way no physical exertion ever has.
“Extract me from your mind.”
His voice isn’t spoken aloud. It’s a low, melodic hum that tethers me in place. I catch myself leaning into it.
“How?” I ask. This time, the word lands where I intend it to, not by accident.
“Isolate the sound.” His real voice and his mental one overlap. “Don’t follow the thread. Sever it. Find the latch and slam the door.”
Marco gave me something to fight.
Kylo doesn’t.
That’s what makes it harder.
I throw my strength into it again and again until it slams shut, cutting him off.
“Onto the next step,” Kylo says. “Dissecting the mind. Your goal is to control what I can access—offer me what you choose, and lock away what you don’t. This is how you protect your privacy against a telepath.”
Unlike Marco’s brutal invasions, Kylo’s presence is controlled—almost careful. He skims the surface, a light pressure against the back of my skull. I focus, desperately pulling forward decoy thoughts.
The smell of old library books.
The long nights spent studying.
Think it, and it appears.
That’s the trap.
He breezes past them, locking onto other memories.
Mom laughing as she handed us melting cones in San Francisco. Leo making the football team, and me screaming from the stands. The two of us longboarding through Mission Beach, wind in our faces, the sun warm on our backs.
We stayed out as long as we could, avoiding home.
“Block me, Lia,” he says. “I have full access.”
The image of Leo and me blurs. I picture a heavy curtain of darkness sweeping over the memory, blacking it out.
“Not bad,” he says. “With enough reps, the shield will become a reflex.”
He motions toward the open floor of the training area. “Let’s move to telekinesis. Think of your mind as a muscle. Train until failure. I want more force behind your throws today.”
Great. Back to the fun part.
This is where he sends me flying to see if the ceiling mats are as soft as the ones on the floor. I’m pretty sure I’ve left a dent in every corner of this room.
“Brace yourself.”
My sternum takes the full hit. He hasn’t even touched me, but I’m tossed backward like a ragdoll. I push up, teeth gritted, tasting the copper of my bitten lip. I face him again.
We repeat the cycle.
Dodge. Fall. Fail.
I reach for my telekinesis, but it’s like trying to grab smoke with my bare hands. It won’t answer. It won’t even whisper.
My legs turn to lead. Sweat stings my eyes, blurring his silhouette. I rush him, dropping low to sweep his legs, but he twists out of the way with a grace that feels like an insult. Another flick of his wrist, and I’m sprawling again.
The ceiling swims above me in a dizzying circle.
“I’m going easy on you. Come on, Lia. Focus. You’ve used it before. Find it now.”
What more does he want from me?
I sit upright, fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. I ignore the fear, tapping into the ugly shame I’ve carried since the day Mom died. Shame for freezing. For the desperate urge to fight back, and the helplessness of not knowing how.
A jolt of white-hot energy rips through my limbs. He stumbles, his heels skidding against the mat for a split second. My chest swells with a triumphant breath.
I actually moved him.
A wall of force hits me and knocks me flat on my back.
Kylo is there, looming over me, his hand braced inches from my ear.
My lungs stop working.
I track the chocolate-dark strands falling over his forehead, the storm-blue of his eyes, the tiny, frustrated crease between his brows.
My heart is a trapped bird, battering itself against my ribs. For one reckless second, I wonder what would happen if he leaned down. If his lips softened against mine.
Kylo jerks back like he’s been burned.
He’s on his feet, his jaw locked tight, a muscle leaping in his cheek.
“That’s enough for today.”
He’s gone almost as soon as the words leave his mouth.
I’m skipping dinner tonight.
Needing to breathe, I open the balcony window. The salty breeze rushes in, carrying the sound of crashing waves and the hush of the night. Stars twinkle above, scattered like diamonds, and the moon hangs low and luminous.
It should be peaceful. A distraction.
But I’m stuck replaying the way he moved. The way he looked at me. The way my body leaned into his touch.
Did he catch that traitorous thought?
The one I never should’ve had.
My face flushes hot, and the cool night air feels like ice against my skin. I rest my forehead against the window frame, eyes squeezed shut. One moment of kindness from him, a few shared meals, and my defenses thin.
This is how it starts.
I should know better.
If I could just master this, I wouldn’t have to spend another hour under his scrutiny.
There would be distance.
But my powers are a misfortune.
Practicing outside our sessions should bring me closer to peace.
In theory.
Eyes closed, I reach for that familiar pulse—the low, thrumming edge of anger that usually announces Kylo before he enters a room. The night is a blank slate, stripped of his intensity. I’m left alone with the ocean spray and my own frustration.
Nothing answers.
I try again.
Still nothing.
Of course.
My abilities are spiteful. They don’t come when asked. They wait until I’m cornered.
Not when I’m calm.
Not when I actually want them.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I push off the balcony ledge, my bare feet padding across the carpet. I don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s on the other side. Leo is leaking a restless, staticky energy.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, pulling the door open.
“I wanted to check on you. See how you’re doing and ask why you skipped dinner again.”
Shadows ring his eyes. His shoulders sit tight, drawn up like he hasn’t rested in days.
“I’m okay. Training’s just been a lot.”
“I’m sorry our lives turned out this way.”
“Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. We were forced into this life.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen when we eventually face the Aether Hunters,” Leo says. “All I know is that you have the potential to change the trajectory of this war.”
“What?” A dry laugh slips out. “I struggle to do something as simple as moving Kylo during our sessions. That’s absurd.”
“Visions. That’s all I can say.”
I don’t like that answer. I start pacing, fingers tugging at my hair. The room feels smaller with every step.
The silence. The secrets. The way he keeps pushing me toward Kylo while locking himself away with Carter all day.
“That’s not good enough. You owe me more than that.”
“Knowing more won’t help you right now. Getting stronger will. So fixate on that.”
“Fixate?” I echo. “Really? I’m trying, Leo. Every day I haul myself up despite everything in me screaming not to. You talk like getting stronger is easy.”
I stop pacing. “What do you think I do all day?”
“Shit, Lia, I—”
“I know I haven’t been myself since we got here,” I cut in. “But you don’t get to pretend this hasn’t cost me something.”
I gesture at the room. “I lost Mom. I lost our life. And now I’m supposed to adapt alone, surrounded by people I don’t know—some of whom have already hurt me.”
Leo exhales, dragging a hand over his face. He looks at me, his eyes dark with a shared kind of ruin. “I know.”
I don’t see a soldier. I see the boy who should be sitting in a lecture hall, half-asleep, trying to stay awake. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek and a heaviness in his gaze that doesn’t belong to a twenty-year-old.
We’re the same, yet he’s keeping secrets that are slowly building a wall between us.
“This is my life now. I accept that. But that doesn’t mean I won’t have hard days.”
This is an argument I won’t win. If he’s not ready to share, he won’t.
He visibly relaxes. “Wise of you to say, little sister. Hard days mean you’re growing.”
The conflict isn’t solved. It never is. This is what we’ve done our whole lives—tiptoe around the bruises, pretend the hurt isn’t there.
Wrap everything in sunshine and small jokes until it feels harmless.
Act like we’re okay.
Leo has always been on my side. I don’t want that to change.
He’s all I have left.
“I’m the same age as you. Shut up.”
He gives a breathy laugh. “I’m older by five minutes.”
I’ve missed that sound.
Sometimes, when I lie awake after a nightmare, I imagine us gone.
I imagine a place halfway across the country.
The smell of roasted beans hitting our noses as we step into a coffee shop.
Late-night study sessions with neon highlighters and iced caffeine.
A place where the words Aether Hunter are just a myth, and we don’t have to be anything other than ourselves.
The gray confines of this room are a grim reminder.
Dreams don’t win wars.
I’m scared. For him. For what this war will take from us. And of what his visions might mean.
“I love you, Leo. I’m worried about you.”
“I love you too. Keep your chin up. We’ll get through this. You’re stronger than you think.”
Maybe I am. If Leo were training me, maybe even Carter, I could believe it.
But Kylo…
“Kylo makes it difficult.”
“You don’t have to like him. I wouldn’t ask if there were another option.”
My body knows how to survive.
It’s my reaction to Kylo I don’t trust.
He pulls away, eyes drifting toward the wall. His expression turns blank. I know that look.
It’s the one he wears after a vision when his mind isn’t fully here anymore. He goes quiet, as if he’s stepped into a different realm.
“What did you see?”
“Nothing. I’m meeting Carter for a late-night meditation session.”
He gives me a quick peck on the top of my head and rushes out the door, shutting it behind him before I can utter another word.