Chapter 34
Ancient Stone
The Windstone’s glow pulsed in Emma’s hands, casting writhing shadows across the cave walls.
The assassin was already pushing himself up from where the artifact’s power threw him, and her heart hammered against her ribs.
She had no idea how she’d done that—made the wind obey her—and no clue how to do it again.
The storm outside roared, thunder shaking loose small stones from the ceiling. Rain pounded the cliff face, the sound rolling through the cavern like drums.
Footsteps. Fast. Purposeful. Muted. She felt them more than heard them.
Zach materialized out of the darkness like a wraith, rolling into the chamber with a knife already in his hand. The dim glow of the Windstone showed the absolute focus in his dark steel eyes, the lethal grace in every movement.
Relief flooded through her. He came. He was here.
There was no time for the relief to set.
The assassin lunged.
Not at Emma this time. At Zach.
The two men collided with devastating force, crashing into the cave wall hard enough to crack stone. She stumbled backward, clutching the Windstone to her chest as they grappled in the shadows. Metal flashed. A blade—the assassin's—whipped toward Zach’s throat.
Zach caught his wrist mid-strike, twisted, and the distinct crack of breaking bone echoed in the chamber. The assassin’s knife clattered across the stone floor.
The injury didn’t stop him. He slammed his forehead into Zach’s face, driving his knee toward Zach’s ribs. Zach blocked, countered, his own blade appearing from somewhere on his person—his boot, maybe—and then they were moving so fast Emma could barely track them.
Every movement was precise, economical, brutally efficient. No wasted motion. No hesitation. This wasn’t a bar fight or a scuffle.
The assassin was fast, trained, deadly.
Zach was better.
Or… he should be. He was slowing down.
Emma’s breath caught as Zach’s next strike came a fraction slower. His block was almost—almost—late.
The assassin's lips curved into a smile, blood on his teeth from where Zach had landed a hit earlier.
“Getting tired already, Steele?” he panted, circling. “Thought you were some kind of legend.”
Zach didn’t respond. He barely spoke under normal circumstances. He wouldn’t waste breath on words during a fight.
But something was wrong.
Zach’s movements weren’t as fluid as before. His chest heaved harder than it should. He set his feet as if the ground beneath him wasn’t stable.
The assassin lunged again, faster this time, and Zach’s counter was—
Slow.
Too slow.
The assassin’s fist connected with Zach’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. Zach staggered, and Emma’s heart stopped.
“That's better,” the assassin taunted, grinning wider. “Marcus was right about you.”
Zach recovered, drove his shoulder into the man’s chest, slamming him against the wall. His knife was at the assassin’s throat, pressed hard enough to draw blood.
“Marcus?” Zach’s voice was low, dangerous, but with a slight rasp beneath it.
The assassin smirked, even with a blade at his throat. “Said you’d be trouble. Said you’d be the hard one to take down.” His eyes flicked to Emma, to the Windstone in her hands, then back to Zach. “Too bad for you the island had the solution for us.”
Emma’s stomach dropped.
“Lionfish venom’s a nasty thing,” the assassin continued, still smiling that awful smile. “Especially with a little something extra mixed in to hide the symptoms. You’re already dead, Steele. You just don’t know it.”
“You’re lying.” Zach’s voice lacked conviction. His knife hand trembled, almost imperceptibly.
No.
No, no, no.
The assassin laughed. “We learn from our mistakes. You were too fast on the beach, so we had to find a way to slow you down.” He glanced at Zach’s cut arm. “You were sloppy, letting a blade cut you. Now you’ll pay the price.”
Zach shook his head, blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear it.
The assassin’s eyes slid to Emma again. “Don’t worry about your woman, though. Once you’re gone, I’ll take very good care of her.”
Zach drove the knife forward with a snarl of pure rage.
The assassin twisted, breaking free, his hand finding a rock on the ground.
“No!” the Windstone pulsed in her hand. She lifted the artifact; warmth spread from her palms up her arms, into her chest. The ancient symbols carved into its surface blazed with light, and the air in the cave shifted.
Protect him, she begged. Protect Zach.
The wind answered.
Power surged through her, burning in her veins. Wind exploded through the chamber with the fury of a hurricane, loud enough to drown out the storm outside.
The assassin flew off his feet and slammed into the far wall with bone-crushing force. Stone cracked. Dust filled the air. He crumpled to the ground, gasping, blood trickling from his nose and ears.
The wind died as abruptly as it had risen.
Emma stared at her hands, at the Windstone now shimmering softly between her palms. She’d done that.
She’d done that.
On purpose.
“Emma.”
Zach’s voice pulled her back. He was moving toward the assassin, but his gait was uneven, halting. Each step looked like it cost him.
The assassin struggled to get up, dazed but not unconscious. Still dangerous. Still a threat.
Zach reached him as the man’s hand closed around another weapon—a small blade hidden in his boot. Zach kicked it away, grabbed the assassin by the throat, and lifted him off his feet with one hand.
For a moment, Emma thought he might choke the life out of him right there. Zach’s face was a mask of cold fury, his muscles corded with tension.
His grip faltered.
For a second, but it was enough.
The assassin drove his knee into Zach’s stomach, twisted free, and lunged for the knife on the ground.
No.
She started forward, but Zach was faster. Even injured, with whatever was affecting him—he was faster.
A knife appeared in his hand. One precise strike. Clean. Efficient. Final. The assassin dropped, blood pooling on the ancient stone.
Zach’s legs gave out.
“Zach!” Emma rushed to him, catching him before he could hit the ground. He was so heavy, all muscle and dead weight, but she helped him to his knees. Sweat shone on his face despite the cold. His pupils were dilated, unfocused.
“The artifact.” He looked at her, and something almost like wonder lay beneath the pain in his expression. “How did you… do that?”
“I don’t know.” Emma shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. This wasn’t the time for this conversation. “I didn’t—I just had to protect you.”
He tried to smile. It came out as more of a grimace. “Did a good job.” A tremor ran through him.
“Zach—”
He struggled to stand. Made it halfway up before his entire body swayed. Emma grabbed his arm, steadying him.
“Something’s wrong.” The confusion in his voice terrified her more than anything else. “I feel… drugged. M-muscles… aren’t working right.”
Another tremor ran through him, stronger this time. She couldn’t hold him. They both went down, Emma cushioning his fall as much as she could.
“Zach, we need to get you help—”
“Call N-nick.” Zach’s words were coming slower now, slurring more. “He’ll know… what to do.”
“Phones are out. Zach, I don’t—” Emma's eyes darted around wildly, at the dead assassin, at the glowing Windstone still lying where she dropped it to catch Zach. They were in a cave on a cliff in the middle of a hurricane, and Zach was dying—
“Hey.” His hand found hers; his grip weak but steady. “You’re g-going to be okay,” he said, and she wanted to scream because he was the one who wasn’t okay.
“Zach—”
“The Windstone.” He glanced at the artifact, its glow fading. “You can control it. You can protect yourself.”
“I don’t want to protect myself, I want to protect you!” The words tore out of her, raw and desperate. “You can’t… you’re not allowed to…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say the word.
Die.
Zach’s thumb brushed across her inner wrist, the gesture so gentle it broke something inside her. “Not your fault.”
“Yes, it is. You came here for me. You got hurt because—”
“Would do it again.” His eyes drooped. “Every time.”
“No, stay with me,” she cupped his face, her hands shaking. His skin was clammy—too cold. “Zach, please. Stay awake. We’ll figure this out—”
“Emma.” Her name on his lips, barely a whisper.
“What? What is it?”
“Nick… tell code… protocol seven…”
The words were fragments, disconnected. His eyes closed.
“Zach? Zach!”
His head lulled to the side, his full weight slumped against her.
“No. Don’t you dare.” She pressed her fingers to his throat, searching for a pulse. It was there—thin, thready, but there. “Don’t you dare do this!”
Thunder shook the cave again. Rain was blowing in through the entrance, misting across the ancient stone. The Windstone’s glow was almost gone now, leaving them in near darkness.
Emma held Zach’s unconscious body, his warm blood seeping through her shirt, and a rage unlike anything she’d ever experienced burned in her chest.
She didn’t know how any of this worked: what she was capable of, what the rules were, or what the consequences might be.
But she knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She would not let Zach die.
“Hold on,” she whispered against his hair, pressing her forehead to his. “I’m going to fix this. I’m going to save you.”
Zach’s breathing hitched and grew shallower.