Chapter Thirty-One
TOREN
The sound of Harper's voice on the phone makes my blood run cold.
I'm standing in the hallway, frozen just outside the living room door, listening to her make a call that feels like it's ripping something vital out of her chest. Her tone is completely devoid of emotion, flat, dead, hollow and it terrifies me more than anything else could.
“I need your help,” she says quietly, and the silence that follows is suffocating. “I know. I know what I said. But things have changed... No, I'm not asking for me. I'm asking for a friend.”
Friend. Me. She's doing this for me.
Guilt crashes over me in waves so violent I have to grip the doorframe to stay upright. What kind of monster am I?
What kind of friend lets someone sacrifice pieces of themselves for a war that isn't even theirs to fight?
When Harper finally ends the call and walks back into the living room, her face is a carefully constructed mask of indifference. But I see the cracks. I see the way her hands tremble slightly before she shoves them into her pockets.
“It's done,” she announces to the room. “I have men coming to help with the supply train operation. They'll be here tomorrow afternoon.”
Carnage's expression darkens immediately. “Who the fuck are these guys, Harper?”
“People I trust," she replies evenly, but there's steel beneath her words.
“That's not good enough,” Vatican snaps, rising from his seat. “We don't know them. We don't trust them. For all we know, they could be working for the other side—”
“They're not.” Harper's voice cuts through the room like a blade. “I trust them with my life, which means you can trust them with yours.”
Pope leans forward, his eyes narrowed. “And why should we believe that?”
“Because I'm vouching for them,” she says, her gaze unwavering. “Because I called in a favor that's going to cost me more than any of you can possibly understand. So either accept the help or don't, but don't you dare question my loyalty.”
The room falls into tense silence. I stare at my best friend, this girl I thought I knew and realize there are entire parts of her life I know nothing about. Entire chapters of her story she's kept locked away in the dark.
Who are you, Harper?
Who were you before you became my friend?
The question burns in my throat, but I can't bring myself to ask. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Omen breaks the silence first. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, it's on you.”
Harper nods once, accepting the weight of that responsibility without hesitation. Then she looks at me, and for just a moment I see the ghost of the girl I know, the one who held me when I broke down in Walter House, the one who never gave up on me even when I'd given up on myself.
“It's going to be okay, Tor,” she whispers, but I'm not sure either of us believes it.
Later that night, after everyone else has gone to bed, I find myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection like it belongs to a stranger.
My hand drifts to my stomach, resting there as if I can already feel the life growing inside me.
Xaden's child.
A piece of him that I can't escape no matter how hard I try.
He doesn't want it. Doesn't want us. He's probably convinced himself it isn't even his, that I'm lying, manipulating, trying to trap him.
The truth is so much more complicated.
So much more painful.
I hate him.
God, I hate him for what he's done to me, for the way he's twisted my heart into something unrecognizable.
But I also... feel something for him that I can't name.
Something that terrifies me because it feels too much like love, too much like the kind of devotion that destroys you from the inside out.
How can I love someone who wants to hurt me?
How can I carry his child while planning to destroy everything he's built?
The questions spiral endlessly, driving me to the edge of madness.
I haven't seen him since the library. Since he made me fall apart beneath his hands and then let me go like I meant nothing.
Maddy texted me and said that the hockey team is training all week, that Coach excused them from classes so they can focus on Saturday's game.
Part of me is relieved. The distance gives me space to breathe, to think, to plan without his suffocating presence clouding my judgment.
But another part of me, the part I'm terrified to acknowledge, aches for him.
I’ll miss the weight of his gaze, the heat of his touch, the way he looks at me like I'm both his salvation and his damnation.
I'm losing my mind. That's the only explanation.
A soft knock on the bathroom door pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. “Tor? You okay in there?”
Carnage's voice is gentle, concerned, and it makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.
“Yeah,” I call back, my voice barely steady. “I'll be out in a minute.”
When I finally emerge, he's waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes search my face, seeing too much.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. “There's nothing to talk about.”
He doesn't believe me, I can see it written all over his face but he doesn't push. Instead, he reaches out and squeezes my shoulder gently.
“Halo's working on cracking the encryption on Kellan’s phone, but it's taking longer than we hoped. Whoever set it up knew what they were doing.”
Hope flickers weakly in my chest. “Do you think we'll be able to find out who his handler was?”
“Eventually, yeah. And when we do, we'll figure out who the other person is that's getting immunity.” His expression hardens. “Someone else is out there and the fact we don’t know who it is or what their intentions are, doesn’t sit well with me.”
The determination in his voice wraps around me like armor, making me feel less alone. Less broken.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything. I don't know what I'd do without—”
“Don't.” He cuts me off gently. “You don't need to thank me, Tor. We're in this together, remember?”
I nod, blinking back tears that threaten to spill over.
The next few days blur together in a haze of planning and preparation.
We finalize the details for Saturday. How we'll grab my father after the hockey game, how we'll transport him to Lividica in Hollow Hills, where we have the upper hand against Xaden. It's Denver Kings territory, a place where Xaden's power doesn't reach, where we can control the situation.
Carnage spends hours teaching me to shoot better: adjusting my stance, correcting my grip. He's patient in a way that makes my chest ache with gratitude.
“You need to be able to protect yourself,” he tells me as we stand in the makeshift shooting range they've set up in the basement. “Especially now.”
His gaze drops meaningfully to my stomach, and I feel heat creep into my cheeks.
“I'm not going to put myself or the baby at risk,” I assure him.
“I know you won't. But the world we're walking into doesn't care about that.” His expression is grim. “So we train smart. We train safe. But we train hard.”
He teaches me hand-to-hand combat techniques that won't endanger the pregnancy. How to use leverage instead of strength, how to target vulnerable points, how to escape holds. Every lesson is another layer of armor I didn't know I needed.
By the time Saturday morning arrives, I'm wound so tight I feel like I might shatter at the slightest touch.
I'm getting ready for the game, pulling on jeans and Xaden's shirt that I still can't bring myself to throw away when my phone rings.
Maddison's name flashes across the screen, and when I answer, her voice is pure panic.
“Tor, you need to come to the library. Now.”
My heart slams against my ribs. “What's wrong? What happened?”
“Just… Get here. Now! I can't explain over the phone.”
The call ends abruptly, leaving me staring at my phone with dread pooling in my stomach.
I rush to where the guys are gathered with Harper, making last-minute preparations. Carnage takes one look at my face and goes on alert.
“What is it?”
“Maddy called. Something's wrong. She needs me at the library.”
“The game starts in two hours,” Vatican points out, checking his watch.
“I know, but—” My voice cracks. “She sounded panicked. I have to go.”
Carnage doesn't hesitate. He tosses me the keys to the Suburban. “Take the car. Go. We'll drop Harper at the rink after she makes introductions with the guys coming to help.”
“You sure?” I ask, already moving toward the door.
“Positive. Just be careful, Tor. And call us if anything feels off. Take your gun!”
I nod, my mind already racing ahead to what could possibly be waiting for me at the library. What could have Maddy so panicked that she couldn't even explain over the phone?
As I climb behind the wheel and start the engine, my hands are shaking so badly I have to grip the steering wheel just to keep them steady.
Saturday was supposed to be the beginning of everything: the game, the operation, the kidnapping.
The start of our war.
But as I pull out of the driveway and speed toward the library, I can't shake the feeling that something has already gone horribly, catastrophically wrong.