The armored transport rumbled across the cratered highway of the Dead Lands, its suspension groaning under the weight of the new passengers.
The atmosphere inside was thick enough to choke a dragon.
Mira was driving, white-knuckled, trying to ignore the tension radiating from the back. Jessa was pretending to sleep in the passenger seat. Kael sat on a crate near the rear doors, cleaning a speck of ghoul blood from his boot with meticulous focus, actively trying to be invisible.
Because in the center of the transport, the air was crackling with a different kind of electricity.
Damien Blackwood sat on the long bench. He was wearing Kael's stolen, blood-stained trench coat, which was tight across his massive shoulders, leaving his chest partially exposed. He didn't care.
His entire world was focused on the woman sitting next to him.
Aria was shivering. The adrenaline of the battle had worn off, leaving her exhausted. She still held The Usher across her lap. The black sword hummed softly, a low vibration that seemed to soothe the child in her womb.
Damien stared at the sword like it was a rival lover.
"Put it down," Damien growled, his voice low and vibrating with Alpha command.
"I can't," Aria whispered, her hands white-knuckled on the hilt. She didn't look at him. She stared at the floor. "If I let go, the hunger comes back. He... he needs it."
"He needs me," Damien snarled. He reached out, his large hand covering hers on the hilt. His skin was burning hot, a furnace of werewolf vitality. "I am the father. My energy should be enough."
"It's not," Aria said, finally looking up. Her silver eyes were filled with tears. "Your energy is fire, Damien. This baby... he's ice. He's Silver. You can't feed him without burning us both."
Damien flinched as if she had slapped him. The rejection—even biological—stung his pride.
"You ran," he said, shifting the topic to the wound that was still bleeding in his heart. "I tore the city apart for you. I killed three Council inquisitors. I broke the treaty with the Vampires just to get intel on where you went. And you ran."
"Because you locked me in the penthouse!" Aria cried, her voice cracking. "You put guards at the door. You took my phone. You treated me like an incubator, not a Mate!"
"I was protecting you!" Damien roared. The sound was too loud for the small space.
Kael cleared his throat from the corner. "Hey. Volume. Unless you want to alert every acoustic sensor within five miles."
Damien turned his head slowly. His golden eyes burned with murderous intent.
"Speak again, Hunter," Damien whispered, "and I will throw you out the back door at sixty miles per hour."
Kael held up his hands in mock surrender. "Just checking the acoustics. Carry on."
Damien turned back to Aria. His anger deflated the moment he saw her shiver again.
"You're freezing," he muttered.
He didn't ask permission. He moved.
Damien pulled Aria off the bench and into his lap.
"Damien, no—" Aria protested weakly, pushing against his chest.
"Shut up," he grunted, wrapping his arms around her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent—vanilla, rain, and the metallic tang of the sword. "You're cold. I'm warm. That's physics."
Aria stiffened for a second, then melted. She couldn't help it. The Mate Bond was singing. His body was a wall of heat, solid and safe. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, the heavy sword still resting awkwardly across her knees.
Damien's hand moved to her stomach. He could feel the bump now—firm, round, undeniable.
His expression softened from rage to something painfully vulnerable.
"He's big," Damien whispered, his thumb tracing the curve of her belly through the dirty jumpsuit. "Too big for three weeks."
"He's a monster," Aria murmured, closing her eyes. "Like his father."
"Good," Damien kissed her temple. "Monsters survive."
He glared at the black sword resting on his unborn child. He hated it. He hated that she needed it. He hated that another man—that Hunter in the corner—had provided it.
"When we get back," Damien murmured into her ear, his voice dropping to a possessive rumble that sent shivers down her spine, "I am going to build a vault. Lined with silver. Lined with whatever this metal is. So you never have to hold a weapon again."
"I don't want a vault, Damien," Aria said tiredly. "I want a life."
"You have a life," Damien tightened his grip, his nose brushing her ear. "You have my life. It belongs to you. It always has."
Aria turned in his arms. She looked at his face—the sharp jawline, the golden eyes, the arrogant mouth that she had missed more than she dared admit.
"You're an idiot," she whispered.
"I'm your Alpha," he corrected.
He leaned in. He didn't ask. He took.
The kiss was hungry, desperate. It tasted of blood and dust, but mostly it tasted of claim. He kissed her like he was trying to breathe for her.
Aria made a small sound in her throat and gripped the lapels of the trench coat. The sword slipped slightly, clanking against the metal bench.
"Get a room," Mira called out from the driver's seat. "Seriously. I'm gonna vomit."
Damien broke the kiss, but he didn't let go. He glared at the back of Mira's head.
"Drive faster," Damien ordered. "Or I'll drive."
"You don't know how to drive a stick, Princess," Mira shot back.
Damien growled, but he settled back, pulling Aria deeper into his coat. He rested his chin on her head, his eyes scanning the transport, challenging anyone to look at her.
Kael watched them, feeling a strange mix of amusement and something else. Pity? Envy?
"So," Kael said, deciding to brave the Alpha's wrath again. "The plan. City Hall. How do we get in? I assume you don't have a key card in that trench coat."
Damien looked at Kael. The hostility was still there, but it was dampened by the fact that Aria was safe in his arms.
"We don't need a key card," Damien said. "The City Hall rests on the old foundation of the Sinclair Estate. Before the Council seized it."
"And?"
"And," Aria spoke up, her voice muffled against Damien's chest. "There's a servant's tunnel. It leads to the wine cellar. My grandfather built it during the Prohibition Era."
"A wine cellar," Jessa perked up from the front seat. "Now we're talking."
"It's not just a cellar," Damien said grimly. "It's where the Nexus is. The ley line convergence that powers the city's shields."
Kael sat up straighter. "Wait. You're saying the Council built their headquarters on top of a mana well?"
"They wanted to control it," Damien sneered. "But they don't know how to use it. Only a Sinclair can tap into the Source directly."
He looked down at Aria.
"That's why Volkov wants her. That's why he wants the child. He doesn't just want the Wolf blood. He wants the key to the city's energy grid. If he sacrifices an Argenti heir on the Nexus..."
"He can open the Gate permanently," Kael finished the thought. "He can merge Oakhaven with the Shadow Layer."
The transport hit a pothole, bouncing violently.
Aria gasped, clutching her stomach. "Damien... he kicked again."
Damien's hand was there instantly, soothing, warm.
"I'm here," he cooed, his voice completely different from the tone he used with Kael. "Shh. Papa is here. Settle down, pup."
Amazingly, the baby calmed.
Damien looked up at Kael, a smug smirk on his face.
"See?" Damien said. "He knows who's in charge."
"He probably just likes the heat," Kael deadpanned. "But sure. You're the boss."
"Damien," Aria whispered, tracing the scar on his chest exposed by the open coat. "If we go back... Volkov will be waiting. He knows we have to go to the Nexus."
"Let him wait," Damien said, his eyes darkening. "I ran from him once to find you. I won't run again."
He took her hand—the one not holding the sword—and kissed her knuckles.
"This time," Damien vowed, "I'm going to rip his throat out. And then I'm going to buy you that strawberry tart you like from the bakery on 5th Street."
Aria let out a wet laugh. "The bakery is probably a crater, Damien."
"Then I'll buy the crater," Damien said simply. "And I'll build you a new bakery."
"God, he's so rich it's annoying," Jessa muttered to Mira.
"I heard that," Damien growled.
"Good," Jessa retorted. "Does your credit card still work? Because we need gas."
Damien reached into the pocket of the trench coat. He pulled out a black card made of titanium. He flicked it toward the front seat. It landed in Jessa's lap.
"Limitless," Damien said. "Buy the gas station. Buy the whole damn district. Just get us there."
He turned back to Aria, wrapping his arms tighter, cocooning her from the world.
"Sleep," he commanded softly. "I'll wake you when we're home."
Aria closed her eyes. For the first time in weeks, surrounded by enemies, holding a cursed sword, in a truck smelling of wet dog and diesel... she felt safe.
"Okay," she whispered. "But Damien?"
"Hm?"
"If you growl at Kael again, I'm sleeping on the couch."
Damien stiffened. He shot a glare at Kael that could melt steel.
"Fine," Damien grumbled. "But he stays three feet away. Minimal."
Kael sighed and leaned his head against the cold metal wall.
"This is going to be a long trip."