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Creed gives a dry chuckle. “I expected you’d say that. We have something I believe you’d very much like to see.”

He lifts a tablet, turning it to show a video feed. My heart seizes as I recognize the figure on screen—it’s me, captive in my sterile cell.

Elena stares for a moment, a storm of expressions flickering across her features.

“Mom?” she whispers, and my heart nearly bursts. Joy and anguish twist through me. She knows me. She remembers me.

“Alive, as you can see,” Creed continues. “For now.”

Elena’s face hardens. “What do you want?”

“The Heartstone. Bring it to us, and your mother goes free.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” Her voice drips with contempt.

“You don’t have an option.” Creed smiles thinly. “The Syndicate has held her for decades. We can hold her for decades more.”

Elena’s eyes narrow. I see her calculating, assessing, forming a plan.

“I’ll need proof she’s alive,” she stalls. “Not a recording. Live connection.”

“Arrangements can be made.” Creed steps closer. “But right now, you’ll be coming with us.”

“I don’t think so,” says my daughter.

What happens next takes me completely by surprise.

Elena moves so fast that I barely register it. A blast of magic erupts from her palms, sending two operatives flying. She ducksa third, spinning to kick him sharply in the knee. The crack of breaking bone makes me flinch.

Pride surges through me, fierce and bright. My daughter fights like a warrior. Like someone who’s had to protect herself her entire life.

Because of my absence. Because I wasn’t there.

“Subdue her!” Creed orders, falling back as the fight intensifies.

An operative lunges forward, but Elena sidesteps and slams her palm into his sternum with magic-enhanced strength. I feel Serena hovering uncertainly, caught between her conscience and fear of the consequences.

“Do something!” Creed yells, and Serena steps forward, but at the last moment, I latch onto her mind, forcing her to turn straight into the path of Elena’s next blast.

Serena flies backward. Creed shouts out a curse, but Elena flicks a hand, and he’s sent spinning through the air.

“Witch! What are you doing?” Emerson shouts at me, noticing the fluctuation in our connection. “Maintain control!”

I force my expression to show strain rather than deliberate sabotage. “She’s too strong—fighting back.”

Through Serena’s eyes, I watch my daughter battle. She’s outnumbered, but her power flares brightly, creating space around her. One operative goes down. Another. A third retreats, nursing a broken arm.

More operatives move in, but Elena’s power erupts outward in a wave that knocks them back. Her eyes blaze with fire—Rossewyn magic in its raw form. They took her by surprise before, but now, she’s ready to tackle them.

Suddenly, footsteps thunder down the tunnel, and a tall figure emerges from the shadows. Caleb Craven, his eyes blazing amber as partial scales ripple beneath his skin.

“Elena!” he roars, the sound more dragon than human.

Three more dragons pour from the tunnel behind him, shifting partially as they move. They form a protective circle around my daughter, whose magic still crackles between her fingers.

Creed’s face contorts with fury. “Fall back!” he orders, grabbing Serena’s arm roughly. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I feel Serena’s confusion through our connection as Creed drags her back down the tunnel. “But the witch—”

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