Chapter Nine
Hannah
After the explosion of Gray’s lightning colliding with the Protogenus weapon that tore the signal apart, the Senate chamber went utterly still. No shouting. No camera shutters. No frantic movement. Just the soft, ragged sound of people trying to breathe again.
But all Hannah could hear was Gray.
His breathing wasn’t labored, not exactly, but it was unsteady.
She felt the tremor in him before she saw it, a faint shudder beneath the hand she kept pressed to his back.
Their bond was heavy and sluggish. He had burned through so much power in the last hour that she was amazed he was still standing at all.
She tightened her grip on him, as though her body alone could hold him upright.
“Gray,” she whispered, leaning in close enough that her lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Talk to me. How are you feeling?”
His answer came after a beat too long. “Like I picked up a skyscraper and set it back down the wrong way.”
Her lips twitched, part relief, part tenderness.
Humor meant he was still with her, which was more than she’d dared hope when the recoil of that weapon slammed back through their connection.
His power was vast, terrifyingly so, but it hadn’t been designed to battle machines engineered to strip supernaturals down to the cellular level.
The edges of him frayed under the pressure.
Hannah eased her body against his side, letting him lean into her. Her own power crackled quietly beneath her skin, tired but steady, still responding to his like a tide drawn to the moon. She needed that connection. She needed him.
Senator Caldera had barely finished announcing the initiative’s defeat when security officers swarmed the room, requesting medical evaluations, clearing pathways, urging senators toward safer areas.
Cameras refocused, capturing the scene from every angle.
It should have been overwhelming, but Hannah couldn’t bring herself to care.
Right now the world around them was a blur.
All she could focus on was Gray’s weight leaning subtly into her and the bond that thrummed with exhausted relief.
Rick appeared at their side first, his eyes sharp as he took in Gray’s posture.
“You’re both going to the medical wing,” he said without preamble.
"Status on Pierce's location?" Gray managed.
Rick's jaw tightened. "Signal originated from the Pacific facility. Strike team is already mobilizing. One more lab to destroy. And this time, we're making sure nothing survives."
"And Pierce?" Gray asked.
"Gone. The facility was empty by the time our team arrived. She had an escape route ready—probably planned it the moment she went live." Rick's expression darkened. "She's still out there."
Gray started to get up.
She didn’t let him.
Her hand came up to cup his jaw, turning his face toward hers. He focused on her like she was the only thing in the room.
“You’re going,” she said gently. “We both are.”
His breath shuddered out. He didn’t argue again.
Rick nodded, relief flickering behind his professional mask. “Good. Yaz is already prepping a secured room. Keep close.”
The security detail moved with them, forming a tight perimeter as they exited the chamber. The hallway outside buzzed with reporters shouting questions, aides rushing by with urgent messages, and drones hovering like mechanical hornets.
Hannah kept her body pressed to Gray’s side, shielding him from the crowd in a way that would have amused her at any other time. She was barely half his size, nowhere near his strength, and yet the instinct to protect him burned bright and fierce inside her.
Bond instinct, she realized, the warmth of it threading through her chest. This is what it feels like. Not fear or desperation, just a deep-rooted certainty that they belonged at each other’s side.
When they reached the elevator, Gray leaned briefly against the wall, eyes closing. She could feel the low thrum of his power trying to settle, coils of lightning untangling slowly inside him.
He wasn’t crashing. Not yet. But he was close.
Hannah slipped her hand into his again, letting her power travel along his skin like a soft, controlled current. He exhaled shakily, relaxing another fraction as their energies aligned.
The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the noise of the world.
For the first time since the battle, Gray spoke softly enough that the words were meant only for her. “You kept me steady,” he murmured, opening his eyes to look at her. “If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I could’ve stopped myself.”
Her heart clenched.
“You didn’t lose control,” she said. “You saved everyone. I only helped you shape it.”
His thumb brushed the back of her hand, a silent I feel you through their bond. “You did more than that, Hannah.”
She squeezed his hand gently, letting her gaze soften.
“I’m not letting you fall,” she said. “Not now. Not ever.”
***
THE MEDICAL WING OF the Gemini Institute smelled faintly of antiseptic and ozone, a strange mixture that somehow made Hannah feel both comforted and uneasy.
Maybe it was because the scent clung to Gray, too.
The ozone always did, curling around him like a signature she’d learned to recognize long before she understood what it meant.
Yaz guided them to a private treatment room, its glass door frosting over the moment it slid shut behind them. Isolation protocol. Security protocol. But all Hannah cared about was Gray sinking onto the edge of the exam bed with a slow, deliberate exhale that spoke more to exhaustion than pain.
She moved immediately to stand between his knees, her hands cupping his face before he could look down and hide the strain tightening the edges of his eyes.
“Hey,” she said. “Don’t disappear on me.”
Their bond pulsed with the same exhaustion she saw on his face. Threaded through it was a warmth like sunlight whenever she looked at him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, leaning into her touch. “Just coming down from the energy I spent.”
She stroked her thumbs along the rasp of stubble on his jaw. “Let me help.”
Gray’s hands slid to her waist, fingers curling there. “You are helping.”
But she wanted to do more.
His skin was warm under her palms, but that wasn’t what worried her. It was the subtle tremor beneath the surface, the faint crackle of unstable electricity beneath his skin that told her his power was still settling, still recalibrating after the violence of what they’d done in the Senate chamber.
She brushed a strand of hair away from his temple, pressing her forehead gently to his. Their connection brightened in response, a soft blue shimmer.
“Breathe with me,” she said.
Gray’s grip tightened on her waist. “Hannah.”
“Just do it.”
She guided his breath, syncing hers with his until the knot of tension in him loosened by degrees. Every inhale softened. Every exhale steadied. And with each breath, their bond smoothed out the jagged edges of his power with a gentle, insistent rhythm.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and raw. “You center me.”
“You do the same for me,” she said.
He let out a soft laugh, almost disbelieving. “You saved me in there.”
“We saved each other,” she corrected. “And we’ll keep doing that. You’re not carrying this alone.”
He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead fully against hers. For a moment she let herself feel the thrum of his heartbeat. The bond glowed stronger and steadier between them, weaving their energies together so seamlessly it was hard to tell where she ended and he began.
A soft knock came at the door before it slid open and one of the Initiative’s variant specialists, a calm, silver-haired man entered.
“Mr. Spark,” he said gently, “I need to run a quick scan to assess the aftershock effects.”
Gray opened his eyes but didn’t pull away from her touch. “Do what you need to.”
Hannah stepped aside just enough to let the physician work, but she remained close, her fingers brushing Gray’s arm, offering connection even in the inches between them. The specialist ran a handheld scanner along Gray’s forearms, the device humming faintly.
“Your neurological and bioelectrical patterns are stabilizing,” the doctor said. “Slower than ideal, but nothing dangerous. You pushed far beyond safe parameters, but the bond seems to have buffered you.”
Gray glanced at her. Hannah hadn’t taken her eyes off him.
“So she kept him from frying himself,” Yaz said dryly from the doorway, arms crossed. “Good. Because I do not want to be the one to explain to Rick why the city’s strongest Pollux variant cooked his circuits in a Senate building.”
The doctor chuckled softly. “Not cooked. But without her... yes, he would’ve been in significantly worse condition.”
Gray absorbed that quietly.
Hannah didn’t miss the subtle shift in him. His gratitude wrapped around her like warm hands closing over her soul.
When the doctor left, giving instructions for rest and hydration, Gray finally reached for her hand again.
He didn’t tug her closer. He simply held her hand. “Thank you,” he said softly.
She sat beside him on the bed, leaning her shoulder against his, letting their fingers interlace. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re bonded. This is what we do.”
He turned his head, pressing his lips to her temple in a kiss so gentle it made her breath catch.
“Bonded,” he repeated quietly, the word full of wonder.
His love was unmistakable through their connection. It wrapped around her like lightning that didn’t burn.
The room quieted after the doctor and Yaz left, the door sliding shut with a soft hiss that seemed to seal them into a pocket of calm.
Hannah exhaled slowly, letting the tension bleed from her shoulders as she watched Gray slide back against the pillows.
He looked exhausted, but still beautiful to her, all sharp jawline and storm-shadowed eyes and that restless strength that never quite left his body.