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“You okay?” Talon asks, still beside me, as the room empties.

“Not particularly,” I admit. “But better than I was a week ago, locked in that cell.”

He helps me up, hand lingering beneath my elbow. “I’ll show you to your quarters. You really should rest.”

We walk through corridors carved from living rock, the Outpost’s vastness becoming apparent. People nod as we pass, curiosity and respect mingling in their glances. Word has spread. I’m the Rossewyn witch, the Shard-wielder, the asset Talon extracted at great risk.

The quarters, when we reach them, are more comfortable than I expected. A real bed. A private bathroom. A window, not to the outside, but to a massive central atrium where natural light filters down through cleverly designed channels in the mountain.

“It’s not the Ritz,” Talon says, watching me take it in. “But it’s secure.”

“Are you kidding me? This is luxury.” I move to the window, placing my palm against cool glass, watching people move through the atrium below. “All these people living here. Fighting the Syndicate. I never knew…”

“That was by design. The Syndicate doesn’t acknowledge opposition. It suits them to let their assets believe resistance is futile.”

I turn to face him, struck by the intensity in his eyes as he watches me. The moment in the cabin rushes back. His hands on my skin, his mouth on mine, the weight of him between my thighs. Heat blooms in my cheeks.

“About what happened…” I begin, uncertain of how to navigate this new territory.

He takes a step closer, not crowding but definitely in my space. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” I answer honestly. “I just… It’s a lot. Everything’s happening so fast. A week ago, I was a prisoner. Now I’m free, running for my life, and you and I—” I gesture helplessly between us.

“I know.” His voice softens. “It’s not exactly conventional timing.”

I laugh, the sound surprising me. “Conventional flew out the window a long time ago, Talon.” I taste his name as I say it, liking how it feels on my tongue.

He smiles—a real smile that transforms his face, makes the dragon in him glow through human features. “True enough.”

We stand there, the air between us charged with possibility, with questions neither of us is ready to answer.

“I should go,” he says finally, taking a reluctant step backward.

“Talon.” I reach for his hand before he can retreat further. His skin is warm against mine, that simple contact sending a shiver up my arm. “Thank you. For standing up for me in there. For giving me a voice.”

His fingers curl around mine, thumb tracing my pulse point. “Always,” he says simply.

And somehow, I believe him. After everything that’s happened, I believe this man who is practically a stranger. Trust him in a way that defies logic or experience.

He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture is oddly formal yet intimate, sending heat spiraling through me.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ll be close if you need anything.”

He leaves, the door closing softly behind him. I sink onto the edge of the bed, feeling the warmth of his lips on my hand, the memory of his mouth on other, more intimate places. My fingers rise to the ghost of the mark on my neck, still sensitive to the touch.

What is happening to me?

This connection, this pull toward him, defies explanation. It’s too fast, too intense, too overwhelming after years of emotional numbness. Yet, I can’t deny it exists. Can’t pretend I don’t crave his touch, his presence, his protection that never becomes possession.

I stretch out on the bed, exhaustion finally catching up with me. Outside my door, the Outpost hums with activity: planning, preparing, mobilizing against enemies who want what I can do. What I am.

Tomorrow will bring more complications. Viktor’s agenda, Hargen’s feelings, approaching the Cravens, possibly seeing Elena after so long. But for now, in this moment of quiet, I allow myself to feel something I’d forgotten existed.

Hope, yes. Freedom, absolutely.

But also this impossible connection to a dragon whose touch makes me feel more alive than I’ve felt in decades. More myself.

More… everything.

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