Page 7 of Dark Rebel's Mystery

Soran had hinted on more than one occasion that he had feelings for her, and she'd had to let him down gently. Her excuse was that as the leader of their group, she couldn't fraternize with any of its members, but the truth was that she just wasn't interested—never had been, as far as she knew.

If she'd ever been with a man, it had to be before she'd lost her memory in the asylum. She didn't get periods like other women did, so she couldn't have children, which would have been her only motivation to get intimate with a guy.

Probably not even then.

The truth was that the very idea repulsed her. Perhaps she'd always been like that, or maybe something had happened to her in that place, as it had for so many of the other women she'd helped escape. There was no doubt in her mind that she hadn't been spared and had been violated like the others, but mercifully, unlike them, she didn't remember it.

There were other things she wished she could remember, though. Like that fragment of a recurring dream flickering at the edges of her consciousness. Golden eyes. A child's face. A beautiful girl that looked a lot like her.

The same golden eyes, the same chestnut-colored hair. It could have been just a memory from her own childhood.

"Kyra?" Soran's voice broke through her reverie.

She blinked, forcing her attention back to the present. "Yes?"

She hadn't noticed that the rest of her team had assembled in the tent, each holding a cup of coffee.

"What's our next move?" he asked.

Intelligence suggested increased military presence in the region, and after talking to the rescued prisoners, she'd learned that the elite team they'd encountered at the compound had arrived along with a high-ranking commander of the Revolutionary Guard.

The only reason for them to be stationed in this remote area was to fight the rebels. That meant that the window for operations was narrowing, and from now on, their missions would be more dangerous, and the stakes would be higher.

"We can't keep running defensive operations forever," Hamid argued, spreading a worn map across the makeshift table. Hisfinger traced mountain passes and strategic points. "We need to strike first and eliminate this new threat."

Zara's hand came down firmly on the map. "We're not an army, Hamid. We're a resistance. We can nip at their heels. That's all."

The debate was familiar. Kyra listened, her mind both present and distant. Something about how the light caught the map, the specific angle of Hamid's finger—it tugged at a memory just beyond her reach. Or was it the amber pendant trying to tell her something once again?

After more than an hour of futile arguing, she called the meeting to an end. When everyone had left, she drank the last remaining drops of coffee in her cup and closed her eyes, finally alone with her thoughts.

Who was she?

Kyra's memories were fractured like broken glass, sharp edges that cut whenever she tried to piece them together. A restlessness settled over her. The dream from the previous night—that child with eyes of gold refused to fade.

"Something troubles you." Soran entered the tent. After fifteen years of fighting together, he could read her better than anyone.

Kyra smiled, but she knew that the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous habit," he teased, but his eyes were serious.

The amber pendant pulsed again, a rhythm matching her heartbeat.

A reminder.

A warning.

But of what?

4

KIAN

Anandur turned to Kian. "Do you want me to check on Toven, boss?"

The god was late, which wasn't typical of him. Normally, he was punctual to a fault.

"No, that's okay." Kian leaned into the comfortable back seat of his SUV. "He must have a good reason for keeping me waiting." And if he didn't, Kian preferred not to hear it in front of his bodyguards.

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