Chapter 23 #2
Something in her expression shifts. Sharpens with recognition. Knowledge. Her eyes narrow as they flick between us, sensing the invisible threads now connecting us.
“What happened out there?” she asks, voice dropping lower.
“The helicopter crashed. Mara—” My voice catches on the name, the guilt still raw. “Mara fell. We… we lost her. We survived in the caves for three days before the Syndicate captured us.”
Her grip tightens on my shoulders. “Captured?”
I nod, keeping my voice steady. “Luke got us out. We escaped, gathered intel, made it to extraction.”
Her eyes narrow slightly as she studies my face. “And in those three days…” She pauses, choosing her words with careful deliberation. “You were alone with Kenan.”
It’s not a question. It’s an observation weighted with implication that makes my face heat despite myself. My dragon stirs beneath my skin, scales threatening to emerge along my jawline in response to my emotions.
“We were surviving, Mom. That’s all.” The deflection comes easily, though there’s a lie wrapped in it that doesn’t sit right.
Vanya holds my gaze for several long seconds, reading more than I want her to see.
Then: “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, medical needs to check you.”
Her tone is final, but I see the promise in her eyes: This conversation isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Dammit.
We move toward the helicopter, where the rest of the extraction team waits. My dad approaches with a warm but cautious smile.
“Good to see you in one piece, Ember.”
I manage a small smile in return. “Mostly one piece.”
Tabitha appears beside him. “Did you gather any intel?” she says.
“I… yes,” I answer, still feeling overwhelmed by everything that’s happening.
My mother raises a hand, stopping me. “Save it for the debrief. We’re wheels-up in two minutes.”
Across the clearing, Caleb and Dorian flank Luke, their heads bent in low conversation I can’t hear. I watch Luke’s body language—tense, controlled, deliberately not looking in my direction. Already the wall is going up, the mask sliding back into place. Operative, not lover.
The distance between us feels like miles instead of yards. As if the intimacy we shared has been packed away, replaced by professional personas neither of us can afford to drop now that we’re back in the real world.
My mother guides me toward the helicopter with a gentle hand on my back. The gesture feels both comforting and constraining after three days of making my own choices, surviving on instinct and courage.
Inside, she directs me to a seat near the front; maternal positioning, keeping me close. Luke settles in the rear with Caleb and Dorian, separated by crates of equipment.
Hargen takes the seat across from me, studying me. I focus on fastening my harness, avoiding his gaze, but I can feel his attention, the slight narrowing of his eyes as they move between me and Luke. For a moment, I’m certain I sense a hint of understanding.
The rotors spin up to full power; the clearing drops away below us. I watch the Carpathian peaks recede through the window. Snow and stone and shadows that nearly became my grave. Yet still, they’re beautiful.
Relief mixes with a strange melancholy as we climb higher. Something was left behind in those mountains. Not just Mara. Not just innocence. Something indefinable that can’t be reclaimed in the light of day, in the reality of professional boundaries and maternal concern.
“How are you feeling, darling?” My mother’s voice is gentle.
“I’m okay, Mom.” My response is subdued.
“You’re sure? After what happened with Mara…” she starts to say.
“I can’t talk about it right now, Mom.”
“Of course.” She squeezes my hand. “I don’t blame you. You must be shattered.” Her lips pinch together. “I know I am. When we thought we’d lost you…”
Hargen squeezes her shoulder when her voice breaks. “It’s all over now, angel,” he tells her. “She’s back. She’s safe.”
My mom nods. “It just took so long.” She glances at me.
“We got here the day after you went down, sent search parties, but it’s been a nightmare.
” Her voice rises, and she catches herself.
“The Syndicate presence made it impossible to scout the mountains properly. And for some reason, none of us was able to harness our powers.”
I glance at her sharply. “You couldn’t reach your dragons?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “We were practically human.”
“It happened to us, too,” I tell her. “We’d hoped to shift that first night, but we couldn’t.”
“Really?” She cocks her head.
“Yes. It was like the mountain drained us.”
“Interesting,” says my father. “I think it’s something we should raise with Parlance and the others when we get back to Aurora.”
“I agree,” says my mother. “But for now, I think our daughter needs to rest.”
I manage a wan smile. “You’re right. I could use the world’s longest nap,” I say. But my eyes keep drifting to the back of the helicopter, seeking Luke across the cabin, drawn by a pull I can’t explain or resist.
Mid-flight, his gaze finally lifts, finds mine through the dim interior.
Our eyes lock for three heartbeats. Everything we can’t say passes in that look: What now?
What happens when we land? The connection between us hums, almost visible—at least to me.
Something more than physical, more than emotional.
Something that feels like destiny, though I’ve never believed in such things.
Then Caleb says something; Luke’s attention breaks away, back to the conversation I can’t hear.
My chest aches with a loss I have no right to feel. My dragon half stirs restlessly beneath my skin, missing his proximity, his touch.
When the helicopter lands in Bucharest, a medical team checks me over quickly, confirming what I already know: sprained ankle, minor injuries, nothing serious, cleared for transport.
Across the landing zone, Luke boards the waiting plane with Caleb and Dorian. He doesn’t look back at me, not once, as he climbs the steps. But I see the way his hand pauses momentarily on the railing, as if fighting the urge to turn.
On the flight to Seattle, Mom insists I sit with her and Hargen in the main cabin.
Luke, Caleb, and Dorian take the rear seats, separated by a bulkhead, just out of earshot.
I strain to hear their conversation but catch only fragments: mission parameters, intelligence assessment, extraction protocols.
Hargen distracts me with gentle questions about the caves, the Syndicate facility, my injuries.
But my attention keeps drifting to the partition separating me from Luke, wondering what he’s saying.
Wondering if he’s thinking about me at all.
Wondering if he feels this strange connection, too, or if it was just another mission parameter for him.
When we finally land in Seattle, we transfer to waiting vehicles. My mother guides me toward one SUV with a firm hand on my elbow. Across the tarmac, Luke is directed to another vehicle with the Cravens.
Our eyes meet one last time—brief, loaded with everything unsaid.
A thousand questions neither of us can ask here.
His eyes darken, pupils dilating as they had in the mountains.
For a moment, I see scales at his throat—his dragon reacting to mine; our powers are slowly returning.
Then the car doors close, and he’s gone from view.
Three days ago, being separated from him wouldn’t have mattered.
Now it feels like missing a piece of my soul.