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“You knew,” he spits, stalking toward where I’m sitting on the edge of my bed. “You knew, and you didn’t tell us.”

“Knew what?” I keep my voice flat, uninterested, though I feel my pulse ramp up.

“The witch—your daughter—connected with the Heartstone.” Rage makes his voice tremble. “She’s controlling it. Using it against us.”

A fierce pride swells in my chest. My daughter. My blood. Standing against creatures that would use her.

“Sounds like you failed,” I say, unable to resist the small victory. “Seems to be happening a lot lately.”

The slap comes out of nowhere, sending stars bursting behind my eyelids. I smile, regardless.

“Joke while you can, witch.” He leans closer, breath hot against my stinging cheek. “Your daughter may have the Stone, but we have something she’ll want.”

“Me.” I laugh, the sound harsh and hollow. “You think she even knows I exist? After all this time?”

“She will. And she’ll trade the Heartstone to keep you alive.”

The air suddenly feels too thick to breathe. “She won’t.”

“She will if she’s anything like you. Sentimental, weak when it comes to family.” He straightens, adjusting his cuffs with mechanical precision. “The extraction team is already prepping for your transfer to the Seattle facility.”

“You’re taking me to her?” Dread and hope war in my chest. “You’ll never make it past the Cravens.”

“We have our methods.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And if not, well… You’ve served your purpose. Perhaps your death will be more useful than your life.”

The threat lands exactly as intended—like a blade between my ribs. But beneath the fear, something else stirs. That ember of power, responding to my anger, my desperation.

“You’ve always underestimated me,” I say quietly.

“Have I? Years in this facility suggests otherwise.”

“Years of me letting you think you had control.” The words are brazen, but I don’t care.

He laughs, the sound genuinely amused. “Delusions? Now? After all this time?”

I feel the power building inside me, responding to my need. The dampening field around the room seems weaker somehow, strained by the upheaval of the last twenty-four hours, perhaps. Or maybe I’m stronger now, fueled by knowledge of my daughter’s freedom, by the vision’s clarity.

“Not delusions.” I lift my chin, meeting his gaze directly. “Patience.”

I reach for that ember, coaxing it to flame. Years of captivity, of extraction, of violation… all of it channels into this moment.

“Patience?” He leans closer… mistake. “While you rotted in this cell? While your daughter grew up alone? That’s not patience, witch. That’s defeat.”

I’m on my feet in an instant. Before he can react, my hand shoots up, fingers closing around his throat.

“Thisis power.”

Magic pulses from my palm. Not the controlled flow of extraction but raw energy that’s been building somewhere deep inside. Creed flies backward, slamming into the wall hard enough to crack plaster. His eyes widen in genuine shock as he slides to the floor.

Emerson scrambles for the alarm, but I’m faster. Another pulse of magic knocks her sideways, sending her crashing into a nearby chair.

For one glorious moment, I’m free. Unrestrained, enemies scattered, power flowing through veins that have been parched for too long.

Then reality reasserts itself. Alarms blare throughout the facility. My legs, weak from extraction and captivity, buckle beneath me when I try to stand. The magic drains as quickly as it came, leaving me emptier than before.

Guards pour through the door, weapons drawn. I’m wrestled back onto the bed, restraints locked around limbs too weak to resist. A needle plunges into my neck, cold spreading through my blood.

Through narrowing vision, I see Creed regain his feet, fury and fear warring on his face.

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