The first thing Briar registered was the pain. It wasn't a sharp shock, but a deep, throbbing pressure centered just behind her eyes, a relentless drumbeat against the inside of her skull. It was a physical tether pulling her up from the warm, empty darkness of unconsciousness.
The second thing she registered was the smell: antiseptic, sharp and sterile, cutting through the dull ache.
She forced her eyelids open. The light was soft, filtered through thin blinds, but it was enough to make her hiss and squeeze her eyes shut again. She tried to move her head, and the world tilted violently.
A sound nearby brought her back. A soft, even breathing.
She slowly opened her eyes again, letting them adjust to the sight. She was in a simple bed in a small, private infirmary room. Sitting on a hard chair next to her was Felix. His head was slumped forward, his black hair falling across his forehead. His face, even in sleep, was etched with exhaustion and worry.
Briar tried to lift her hand, but the movement felt slow and heavy. The effort stirred the thin blanket, and Felix's eyes snapped open. The relief that washed over his face was immediate and raw, overriding the dark circles beneath his eyes.
" Briar, you're awake," he whispered, quickly leaning close. "Don't move too fast."
The sound of his voice drew movement from the corners of the room. The rest of the team was there. Corbin was standing near the wall, perpetually watchful. Rhys was leaning against a window frame, restless and tense. Eta and Theta were sitting quietly on a bench, and Beatrice was huddled near them, pale but alert. They looked exhausted.
The sight of them brought the memories rushing back: the ambush, the blinding smoke, the desperate realization they were surrounded. The sound of the explosion and the sudden, wrenching realization that someone was missing.
Her throat was dry and rough, but the question burned through her pain, overriding all others. It was the only thing that mattered.
"Emmett," she rasped out, her voice barely a breath. "Where is Emmett?"
The question fell into the quiet room, a small, fragile word that shattered the protective silence they had maintained.
Felix inhaled sharply, his hand freezing on the blanket. He looked at Corbin, unable to answer.
Corbin stepped forward, his cold, intelligent blue eyes locking onto Briar's. He was the one built for this moment—the one who could deliver a brutal truth without flinching.
"He's gone, Briar," Corbin stated, his voice direct and devoid of emotion, a necessary shield. "The man who ambushed us—the one who had landmines planted—took him."
The words landed not as information, but as a physical blow. Briar felt a sudden, sickening lurch in her chest, a wrenching, hollow emptiness that dwarfed the pain in her head. Her lungs locked. She tried to process it, to deny it, but the silent, collective grief of her team confirmed the reality.
She closed her eyes, fighting the overwhelming sting of tears. Emmett. The quiet boy who she'd spent weeks trying to pull out of his shell, the only one who seemed to understand her own internal fight. He was gone.
The raw heartbreak was immediate, a deep, twisting anguish born of guilt and affection. She remembered the last time she'd seen his face—calm, cold, utterly controlled, even in the chaos.
He's in danger. He's alone.
"Is... is Theodore—" she managed, her voice thick with emotion.
Rhys turned to her, his own tension evident. "He's alive, Briar. Severely injured by shrapnel, but he was stabilized and moved. He's recovering. He's safe for now."
Briar sighed, but the relief about Theodore was short-lived, immediately consumed by the crushing weight of Emmett's absence. She couldn't afford to be weak. She couldn't afford to be a patient. The one she cared for most was a hostage.
She pushed against the mattress, using the pure force of her despair to override the agonizing pain in her skull.
"Help me up," she demanded, her voice still weak, but edged with steel. "We have to go."
Felix instantly tried to push her back down. "No, Briar! You can't. You need rest. The doctor said you took a severe concussion—"
"I don't care what the doctor said!" Briar snapped, her eyes—though still weary—burning with a terrifying, fierce resolve. Her instinct to protect, was rejecting the reality of her injury. "We lost him. We can't wait for him to be rescued. We have to move."
.....
A nurse quickly entered, drawn by the raised voices. After a tense, low consultation with Corbin, the decision was made. They couldn't risk staying. Briar was stable enough for transport, provided she was carefully monitored.
Within the hour, they moved. Theodore was already gone, spirited away to a secure, private location using Aveline's hidden contacts. Briar was discharged, her body screaming protest with every movement, but her will was absolute.
They returned to Theodore's home. It was a familiar, if currently unsafe, sanctuary. Briar, pale and unsteady, was settled into the living room. The rest of the team huddled around her. She remained upright on the sofa, refusing to rest.
She looked at Corbin, whose eyes held the strategic focus they all needed.
"We have a lead," Corbin stated, pulling out the worn bullet casing as he addressed the team. He held it up, displaying the crest. "This crest points to immense wealth. We've used the material and design to narrow the possibilities down to a handful of people in the city's highest echelon."
He paused, the full weight of the next step settling over the room.
"We don't have the final name," Corbin continued. "This crest is too archaic to deduce anything from it. We need someone who can interpret this symbol—someone outside of our current network, someone who deals in the obscure heraldry of the Kingdom's elite—to give us the name of the man who took Emmett."
Briar looked at the team: Felix, nursing his worry; Rhys, ready as always; the twins, exhausted but focused; and Beatrice, frail but present. They were battered, but they were together.
She inhaled deeply, the ache in her chest still raw, but it fueled her resolve. The fear was still there, but the resolve was stronger.
"Then we shouldn't wait another minute," Briar said, her voice quiet. "We have to find an interpreter, get the name, and bring Emmett home."