Chapter 37 Something to Live For
The table looked like a war zone.
Printouts of floor plans, guard schedules, and security codes sprawled between half-empty cups and greasy takeout containers. Strings of red and black marker crisscrossed the whiteboard, detailing weak points in Ekklesia’s systems, the podcast’s launch time, and fallback locations.
“Which means they’re scared,” I said. “Which means they’re vulnerable.”
Leo pulled up another file on his laptop, his expression darkening. “There’s something else. The facility is heavily warded. I’ve been tracking the energy signatures. They’re layered, and reinforced. This isn’t standard security.”
Hecate leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied the data. “Those are wards against Hades,” she said. “Specifically calibrated to repel his divine presence. They’re not just expecting you, Kian. They’ve built a cage designed to keep you out or trap you if you try to push through.”
“What?” My voice cracked.
Kian’s brow furrowed. His hands curled into fists as he stared at the data. “I can’t go in,” he said, voice flat. “They planned for this.”
The words hit like cold water.
“They made sure I can’t protect you,” he continued. He turned away, jaw working. “I’m locked out.”
My chest squeezed. “Kian, we planned this—”
“I know,” he said, the resignation in his tone edged with dread. “But I can’t help from inside.”
Silence fell like a guillotine. He stood tall, hands clasped behind his back like a commander at a war council, his composure his armor. But I knew him well enough to see through it to the fear beneath.
“Then we prepare the ones who can go in,” Hecate said, her gaze solemn.
I took a breath, my stomach twisting. I pulled the flash drive from my pocket and set it on the table.
“The podcast goes live at noon. But we’re not waiting for it to spread organically.
We’re sending it directly to every local news station, city council member, and advocacy group we can find, with the leaked documents attached. Call for a public protest.”
“Public pressure,” Leo said, nodding. “Force them into crisis management mode.”
“Exactly. Once the media picks it up, protesters will swarm the facility. There are already calls for protests all over social media. Ekklesia will have to pull guards to manage the crowd, handle PR, and keep things from escalating publicly.” I traced a line on the map. “That’s when their resources split.”
“And while they’re managing the optics,” Luz added, “I trigger the gas line. Make it look like an infrastructure failure during an already chaotic situation.”
“Evacuation protocols kick in,” May said. “But now they’re competing with crowd control and media containment.”
“We’ll have a five-minute window,” Leo said. “Maybe less. Their system will try to lock down, but with external pressure and an internal hazard, response gets fragmented. That’s when we move.”
I looked at the board, at the careful lines and calculated risks—the plan was sound.
“Leo loops the camera feeds,” I said, pointing to the security schematics.
“Once we’re past the perimeter, we’re ghosts on their screens.
Hecate handles the biometric locks. Her magic gets us through without triggering alarms. The facility’s layout funnels everything toward the central hub. That’s where they’re holding her.”
“The intel says my Mom is chipped,” I said. “We get in, extract her, and get out before they realize what’s happening.”
“I have the chip frequency,” Leo confirmed. “Once you’re inside, I can guide you to her location. In and out.”
“And then we vanish,” I added. “All of us. Amy too.”
“For how long?” May asked.
Kian’s hands clenched at his sides. “As long as it takes.”
The word fugitive hung in the air, unspoken but heavy. I reached for Kian’s hand. His fingers closed around mine, firm but trembling.
“The documents are solid,” Leo added. “Trial protocols, consent violations, the chip specifications. Once it hits the news cycle with the episode, they won’t be able to spin it.”
“You’re sure about this?” Luz asked.
I met her eyes. “No. But we’re doing it anyway.”
Across from me, Kian’s thumb brushed absently over my wrist. I looked at him and saw the storm behind his eyes.
No one said it, but we knew.
This might be the last night we’d ever have like this before the world caught fire.
Kian’s flat had the kind of silence that pressed against my skin. May returned to Amy’s bedside, Leo and Luz went home, and Hecate returned to her own domain.
Tomorrow loomed like an omen.
I couldn’t make myself close my eyes. I sat curled on the couch, wrapped in one of Kian’s sweaters, sleeves swallowing my hands.
“You should sleep, Tealeaf,” Kian said, leaning against the door frame. My breath caught at the sight of him. Freshly showered, wearing only gray sweatpants, his hair wild around his face.
“I can’t,” I admitted.
He didn’t argue. He lowered himself onto the couch beside me, stretching long legs until his head came to rest in my lap. My hand found his hair, sliding through the damp curls.
His eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping him.
“Better?” I asked, smiling down at him.
He hummed. Then his lashes lifted, and storm-blue eyes caught mine. “Sing for me.”
My breath hitched. “Kian—”
“Please?”
Just one word, but it held so much vulnerability.
I swallowed. He’d heard me hum before, but never like this. I’d never sung for anyone before. Still, something in the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth, broke me.
I took a shaky breath and began to sing an old song from a movie that resonated in ways I couldn’t explain. “Anyway, I love you. That’s all I have to tell you. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
The words fell into the room, carrying everything I couldn’t yet bring myself to tell him. His eyes closed, his hand covering mine on his chest. His face softened, and his breath caught, a shimmer of wetness gathering beneath his lashes.
When the last line slipped away, Kian’s eyes opened, locking on me like I’d handed him something priceless. When he spoke, his voice was no more than a whisper.
“You’re beautiful.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. “It wasn’t anything—”
“It was everything,” he cut in. His eyes glistened with something I couldn’t name.
I wanted to ask what life he was remembering, but I decided not to. It wasn’t the right time.
I whispered instead, “I hate this. The waiting.”
“I know,” he whispered, voice like gravel. “I know.”
I bent forward to press my forehead against his, holding onto the steady beat of his heart. “I don’t want to lose you.”
His hand tightened around mine. “You won’t.”
“Promise me that you won’t do something reckless,” I whispered.
He went quiet, releasing a quiet sigh.
“Kian.”
He looked at me, eyes carrying a weight I didn’t understand. Finally, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“I promise.”
It felt like devotion but tasted like a lie. I clung to it anyway. His thumb traced along my jaw, his eyes filled with devotion and adoration. At that moment, I needed him like oxygen. I wanted him wrecked and worshiping. I wanted to feel everything we were too afraid to say.
I kissed him as though it were the last time.
His mouth devoured mine, hands framing my face while his thumbs stroked my cheekbones. We moved with frantic need, my fingers traced the ridges of his muscles, his hands sliding beneath my sweater to find bare skin. Fabric fell away in desperate handfuls. His palms mapped my ribs, my waist.
I traced the scars across his chest and back. His mouth closed over my breast, and I gasped, arching into him, my fingers tangling in his hair. His hands slid to my sweatpants, but I caught his hand. He looked up at me in surprise.
“Let me,” I breathed, guiding him to sit back on the couch. He obeyed, his eyes dark with hunger as I stripped before him. His erection was visible pressed against his sweatpants, his fingers twitching with the desire to touch me.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, reaching for me. I caught his wrists and pressed them to the couch. I leaned in to trace my tongue along the globe of his ear, drawing a shuddering breath out of him.
“Don’t move,” I whispered, smirking at him. “And don’t you dare come.”
He groaned at that, but obeyed as I sank to my knees, freeing him from his sweats. He was already hard in my hand, flushed with need. The way his pupils dilated, tracking every single movement made my core clench with anticipation.
“Mel—” he breathed, but the words died in his throat as I trailed my tongue up his length, flicking it against his head. A needy gasp tore from him, his hands digging into the couch hard.
I took him as deep in my mouth as I could and his head fell back, a groan on his lips. I hummed, swallowing around him.
“Fuck!” The word ripped from him as he thrust up into my throat. “Gods, Mel, if you—if you keep doing that—”
He nearly shouted as I massaged my tongue against the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock. His hips bucked again, pushing further into my throat that tears pricked my eyes. I moaned around him and he shuddered.
“Mel—please,” he rasped, his knuckles white from where his nails dug into the upholstery.
I looked up at him, pulling back enough to circle the head of his cock with my tongue.
The look of absolute desperation in his eyes sent another spike of desire through me, and I wanted more of those broken pleas.
I hollowed my cheeks and sucked hard, taking him deep once more just to hear him moan my name before finally releasing his cock. His chest heaved as he watched my hand slide along his length, my own arousal slick on my thighs.
I climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, rolling my body along his length in deliberate strokes, adoring the way he trembled beneath me.
It was almost enough to make me come right there, my core throbbing with the need to have him.
He grit his teeth, eyes fluttering shut as he fought for restraint.
“Let me touch you,” he hissed, gasping as the head of his cock rubbed against my clit. “Please—”