Chapter 26
Kade
The world around me is in chaos, but it means nothing.
Alanna is in there. With that monster.
Thirty goddamn minutes. Thirty minutes of pacing the perimeter, useless, every instinct screaming at me to tear my way through the magic, logic be damned, to get to my mate.
I want to kick myself for setting the ward’s timer for so long—I’d anticipated a drawn-out contest between me and that thing, and I didn’t want it leveling half the city in the process.
Instead, it became the countdown of my own personal hell.
I’m fighting the impulse to shift into the wolf and throw myself at the barrier when the inside of the ward suddenly goes pitch black, swallowing it whole. But that dark pit is nothing compared to the emptiness that hits my soul. The bond cuts out. Severed.
I stagger, snarling, panic rising like bile. One second she was there, a vibrant thread in the back of my mind, woven through every fiber of my being, and the next… nothing.
My pacing stops. My breath stops. But I don’t interfere. I can’t. I have to trust Alanna. Even though I can’t see through the ink-black dome, I gnash my teeth and tell myself she’s still in there. Still fighting, somehow.
Seb, clutching a nasty gash on his ribs, limps over and tosses a standard-issue Warden pack at my feet.
I nearly rip it open, checking for the med kit first. Good.
If she’s injured, I’ll be ready as soon as the damn dome falls.
I shove my limbs into the spare clothing next, barely registering the rough fabric of the black cargo pants and gray shirt against my skin.
Seb pats my back knowingly as I refuse to look away from the blackened dome for even a moment.
“That’s some bravery your mate has, brother. We’d be totally fucked without her. She’s a real force.”
I can’t even respond. My throat is too tight with terror. The disappearance of the bond has my wolf clawing at my ribcage in frenzied distress.
She has to survive—she has to. Pressing my hand up against the barrier, I channel every ounce of my will into the void. I don’t know if she can feel me within the depths of the darkness, but I push my presence against it anyway, desperate to offer her even a fraction of my strength.
It takes everything I have to keep a sob at bay. The emptiness where she used to be is maddening, a yawning chasm of absence.
Without warning, searing warmth rushes into my head. The bond slams back into place with all the force of a sledgehammer, and air rushes into my lungs as her essence floods my mind—battered, drained, but undeniably alive.
Before I can even gasp her name, a wave of iridescent light pulses from the center, until it’s so bright that the whole dome is lit up, a supernova trapped in a bottle.
It obscures whatever is going on in there just as much as the darkness did—but it’s her magic this time. That’s got to be a good sign.
After an agonizing eternity, the ward flickers, then vanishes like smoke in a gale. Freed from its confines, the supernova erupts and blinding incandescence explodes outward in a shockwave that forces me to shield my eyes.
Then, just as quickly, the tide reverses. The light swirls inward, rushing back into her silhouette, soaking into her skin until the night returns. Until only she remains.
Alanna is on her knees in the middle of the wreckage, her hair a wild storm around her face, her body trembling from the unbelievable amount of magic she just absorbed.
She sways, planting a hand on the cracked pavement.
Then, with a grit that sings through the bond, she forces herself upright. Her legs shake, but they hold.
She’s standing. She’s whole. She’s alive.
And there’s no echo-beast in sight.
The relief is so violent it makes me dizzy. A strangled cry I don’t recognize as my own is torn from my throat. My mate. My brilliant, brave, powerful mate.
With all the speed of the wolf, I erase the distance across the debris-strewn plaza, every other instinct incinerated by a primal necessity: Get to her. Now.
Then I’m in front of her, faster than she could even register my arrival, and I don’t slow down until I crash into her, wrapping my arms around her small frame, pulling her tight against my chest. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her scent like she’s oxygen itself.
She melts into me for a glorious moment, and all is right in the world. But then she stiffens, leaning back. Her hazel irises are ringed with iridescence, still blazing with whatever she did in there, yet her brow is furrowed.
“Kade?” she asks, and I hate the confusion in her voice. The confusion I put there. By being an asshole.
“You’re okay,” I manage, unable to stop myself as my shaking hands move over her shoulders, her back, her head, checking for injuries, reassuring myself that she’s real and safe and mine. Except, she’s not mine, not really. Not after the way I acted. “I was . . . worried.”
Fucking understatement of the century. Why can’t I find the right words?
“I did it. I actually did it.” Her eyes are shining as she wavers slightly, the manic energy of battle starting to leave her system.
“Hey, I’ve got you.” I steady her in my arms, my hands clutching her like she’s the one keeping me upright. “You’re fucking incredible,” I whisper, cupping her face, dwarfing it in my large palms. I need to kiss her.
But that’s not what she needs right now. And she must read my desires on my face, because she pulls away completely, hurt flashing across her features.
“Thanks for coming. I couldn’t have done it without your help,” she says, but there’s something mechanical about it. It goes through me like one of the echo-beast’s icy tendrils through my heart. She starts to turn away, like she can’t bear to look at me. “I have to check on the others.”
“Alanna.” My voice cracks. “Wait. Please.” Her gaze meets mine, wary.
I take a step closer, but with effort, keep my hands to myself.
“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” The words feel small and useless for the magnitude of my fuck-up.
“I’m sorry for what I said and for leaving and for the way I’ve been acting.
None of it was—I mean, I thought . . . I was—I was wrong.
I’ve been so wrong. I hurt you and it wasn’t fair.
Can we—can we talk? I promise I’ll explain everything this time. If you’ll just let me.”
She just stares at me, her lips parting slightly. For a long, tense moment, the world narrows to the space between us, my inadequate apology and stupid, fumbling words hanging in the air. Then, she gives a single nod and I can breathe again.
“We’ll talk.”
I reach for her, the first of a thousand explanations already on my lips. “Alanna, I—”
But before another word can be spoken, a frantic shout cuts through the air, shattering the moment. “Alanna! Alanna, you—you’re okay.”
Alanna’s head snaps toward the sound. It’s a teenage girl with blue in her hair, tears streaming down her face while she kneels beside a figure on the ground near the ruins of a light sculpture.
“Em!” Without another glance at me, Alanna pulls free from my orbit and sprints across the plaza.
A flash of selfish desperation pierces me—we were so close. But it’s gone as quickly as it came. Her family needs her. Helpless to do anything else, I follow her.
“I—I thought . . . when you went . . . Alanna.” Em sobs into Alanna’s arms, hiccupping roughly into her shoulder. “I don’t . . . understand . . . anything that’s happening.”
“I know. I know. It’s okay now. We’re alright.” Alanna rubs soothing circles across her sister’s back as she clings to her.
The hug breaks, but Alanna keeps a steadying hand on Em’s arm. Em’s tear-filled face turns to the man on the ground. “But Dad . . .” she whispers, her voice wavering. “He’s hurt.”
She’s right. Their father is conscious, and he groans as he tries to sit up, his arm bent at an unnatural angle.
A dark bruise is blooming on his temple.
But he doesn’t seem to care about the pain.
He’s staring at Alanna like he was afraid he’d never see her again, drinking in the sight of her like she’s the first sunrise after an endless night.
I know the feeling.
“Honey,” he manages, shakily, holding his good arm out to Alanna.
For a fleeting moment, there’s a push and pull of conflict in her expression—years of hurt warring with the profound love for the father who just shielded her with his own body.
Then it passes, and all that’s left is relief.
A choked sob escapes her as she closes the distance, collapsing into his one-armed embrace.
Em piles on and then the three of them are huddled together, a mess of grateful tears.
I watch them, unable to tear my eyes from Alanna for even a moment, with a tight ache in my chest. Her family.
Terrified, but here. Together. The pain of a memory—another sister, another crisis—flickers at the edge of my mind and I close my eyes for a moment to acknowledge it.
Damn, I miss her. And for the first time, that feels like something I can . . . accept.
Alanna’s father clutches her hand. “That Thing. And you. What was that? Alanna, I—” His throat works as he swallows some strong emotion. “I was so scared for you. Both of you.”
“I was scared for you too, Dad.” Alanna’s voice cracks. “You’re hurt. We have to get you some help.”
“I’m just glad you’re both okay.” In his eyes, I can see everything he’s not saying—that he came within a breath of losing both his daughters today, his worst fears come to life.
When they pull away, he finally notices me standing here.
He takes in my size, my dirt-streaked appearance, and the protective territoriality that must be radiating from me.
No matter how harmless I try to appear, there’s an air of dangerous readiness around me at all times that I can’t seem to hide. His expression hardens. “Who is this?”