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“Eventually,” I reply, checking the instruments. “But the scrambler should buy us enough time to reach the city.”

Lila sits beside me in the co-pilot’s seat, her face lit by the instrument panel’s soft glow. Her fingers trace the outline of the Shard beneath her shirt, expression distant, thoughtful.

“What will you say to her?” I ask, voice soft enough that Hargen can’t hear over the engine’s roar. “When you see her?”

She turns to me, vulnerability breaking through the determined facade. “I don’t know. What do you say to a daughter who grew up without you? Who might hate you for abandoning her?”

“You didn’t abandon her,” I remind her. “You saved her. Gave yourself to keep her safe.”

“She doesn’t know that.” The pain in her voice is raw, unfiltered.

I reach across, my hand finding hers. “Then you tell her the truth. All of it. And give her time to understand.”

She nods, fingers tightening around mine. Yet again, her touch sends fire through my veins, the dragon in me rumbling with satisfaction. What is this pull between us? This connection that feels ancient, inevitable? I’ve fought it since I first saw her in that Syndicate facility, but each day, each moment in her presence weakens my resistance.

And now… Now I don’t want to resist anymore.

The mountains give way to farmland, then scattered suburbs as we approach Seattle from the east. Lights glitter below us, the city spreading out like a web of stars against the darkening land.

“Thirty minutes to Craven Towers,” I report, checking our approach.

Hargen leans forward from the rear seat. “Direct approach? Or perimeter landing?”

“Perimeter,” I decide. “Less visible. We can approach on foot, see what we’re dealing with before making contact.”

Lila suddenly gasps, her body going rigid beside me. Her hand flies to her chest, where the Shard rests beneath her shirt.

“Lila?” Alarm spikes through me. “What is it?”

The Shard glows visible through the fabric of her shirt, pulsing with crimson light. Her eyes unfocus, staring at something none of us can see.

“Elena,” she whispers, voice tight with fear. “I can see her. Feel her. Something’s wrong.”

I keep one hand on the controls, the other steadying her shoulder. “What do you see?”

“She’s running. Not in the Towers anymore.” Lila’s breathing quickens, her pulse racing beneath my fingers. “Harbor district. Abandoned warehouses. Metal and rust and water.” A shudder runs through her. “Caleb is with her, and the brother—Dorian. They’re in trouble.”

“Circle forces?” Hargen suggests, already pulling up tactical maps on his device.

Lila nods, swallowing hard. “Malakai Steele. I can feel him. He’s hunting them.”

“How many?” I ask, tactical mind already calculating.

“Too many.” Fear gives way to fierce determination in her eyes as she focuses on me. “We need to hurry, Talon. They’re in danger. Right now.”

I bank the helicopter sharply, changing our trajectory toward the harbor district. The engines protest as I push them beyond recommended limits, urgency overriding caution.

“There’s no way Viktor would have known about this,” Hargen says, his voice grave. “The timing…”

“Doesn’t matter now,” I cut in. “How far to their location?”

“Twelve minutes at this speed,” he answers, consulting the navigation system. “Assuming the coordinates from Lila’s vision are accurate.”

“They are,” she says with absolute certainty. “I can feel her. Through our blood.”

The helicopter races across the night sky, Seattle’s downtown core giving way to industrial zones, then the sprawling harbor district. Below us, abandoned warehouses and stacked shipping containers create a maze of metal and shadow.

“There,” Lila points suddenly. “That cluster of buildings. I can see flashes of light—magic, fire.”

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