I feel it before I hear it.
That eerie, bone-deep chill. Like eyes crawling across my skin.
Another presence.
Not the agent. Not the footsteps from behind.
Something else.
I twist, fists raised—too slow.
A hand grabs my arm. Another covers my mouth before I can scream.
We vanish sideways—into a narrow alcove I hadn't even seen.
My back slams into the cold stone. His breath hits mine.
Kael.
Storm-gray eyes flash in the dark like tempered steel catching moonlight. His grip is firm but not hurting. Measured.
"Wanna die?" he hisses. "What the hell are you doing here?"
I shove his hand away and look over his shoulder. "Rei—Jace—"
But the corridor is empty.
No one. Just flickering light and distant voices.
I move to bolt—he cages me in. One arm barring me against the wall, the other braced beside my head.
I freeze.
"They're safe," he says lowly. "I pulled them back. Slipped them another way. You, on the other hand…"
He glances down at me, expression unreadable.
"…are too damn stubborn for your own good."
I breathe sharply, "Why would you help us? The Council's golden boy."
That hits.
His jaw tightens. But he doesn't move away.
Instead, he leans in just a breath closer. His voice drops, mockingly smooth.
"You think I follow them ?" he murmurs. "That I trust them blindly?"
I scoff. "You're in their good graces. You win every round. They whisper your name like a prophecy."
He tilts his head, like studying something broken he can't quite fix.
"Maybe that's exactly why I'm still breathing."
My chest tightens. "So you're playing a game."
"Maybe."
He leans even closer now, and I can't tell if it's threat or gravity or something far more dangerous.
His next words brush the shell of my ear.
"Or maybe I'm trying to stop one."
I blink, heart thudding too loud.
He finally pulls back—not far, but enough for air.
I try to look away, to shake off the weight of that stare, but he's still standing too close, and something about the way his eyes roam my face like they're memorizing every expression… makes me forget how to breathe.
"I don't need saving," I say, my voice sharper than I feel.
Kael's eyes flicker down to my lips, then back to my eyes. He doesn't move.
"No," he murmurs. "You need a damn leash."
I glare at him. "Says the Council's attack hound."
That smirk—the infuriating one—edges onto his lips again, but there's heat behind it now. "Keep poking and I might bite."
"Try it." The words slip out before I can stop them. A challenge.
For a beat, neither of us moves. The air charges, thick with something unnamed. The space between us feels stretched thin, like the tension might snap if either of us so much as blinks wrong.
But then his gaze drifts downward.
I follow it—and freeze.
My jacket's shifted. The chain I always keep tucked beneath the fabric has slipped free. Dangling just barely from my collar.
Pendant.
The sigil of Vireya.
My breath locks in my chest. My hand flies up to shove it back beneath the fabric, but it's too late.
Kael's eyes sharpen. "Where did you get that?"
I swallow. "Doesn't matter."
His arm shoots out, hand catching mine before I can turn. Not tight. But enough to still me.
"That's not just a trinket," he says quietly, all heat traded for something colder—deadly calm. "That's a clan mark. Vireya."
His eyes narrow. "They were wiped out. All of them."
I yank my hand back. "Not all."
His breath hitches—barely. Like I just pulled a thread too tight.
"You're lying."
"Am I?" I whisper.
He stares. A long, charged silence.
Then something flickers across his face—recognition, regret, something else I can't place.
"You've been hiding it," he says. Not a question. "Even from the Trials."
I nod once. "Because if the Council knew who I was... I'd already be dead."
Kael steps in again, Closer than before. I should push him away.
I don't.
"You have no idea what they will do to you," he says, voice a low murmur. "Vireya blood is the Council's biggest threat. They burned your people alive."
"Exactly," I whisper. "Which is why I'm here."
He doesn't ask what I mean. He knows.
And for a moment, the electricity between us isn't rage or rivalry or attraction.
His hand grazes the side of my neck, barely a touch.
"If they find out," he murmurs, "I won't be able to stop them."
"You gonna turn me in?" I ask, breathlessly.
Kael meets my eyes, then slowly shakes his head.
"No," he says. "But I might be the only one who can keep you alive long enough to finish what you started."
We stare at each other again and the line between danger and desire—blurred into nothing.
And I realize it then.
He's not just falling.
He's already.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps slices through the thick air between us—measured, quick, and closing in fast.
I jerk my head toward the echo. Kael's already turning, hand instinctively going to the hilt at his hip, body tense like a drawn bow. But I recognize the rhythm of that stride.
I know it like a heartbeat.
"Wait," I say, stepping past him.
And then—