Page 96 of Taken

“Saved his life.”

“Nearly at the cost of your own.”

I look away, unable to hold his gaze. “It was my choice.”

“Why?” he asks, the question gentle but direct. “After everything, after finally getting free… why risk it all for him?”

The answer is complicated, tangled in years of captivity and connection. In the memories the ritual revealed. In feelings I don’t quite understand.

The emotion I felt in him was mirrored in my heart. Love. And yet… Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Because it’s certainly not stopping me from appreciating the way the fabric of Talon’s shirt is pulling taut across his chest.

What the hell is wrong with you, Lila? You just survived death.

“He protected me,” I say finally. “In small ways. In the only ways he could.”

Talon says nothing, but his expression shifts subtly. Understanding, perhaps. Or something else.

“I want to see outside,” I tell him, changing the subject. “Properly.”

He hesitates, then nods. “Can you stand?”

“With help.”

He moves to the bed, strong arms sliding beneath mine as he helps me to my feet. My legs shake but hold. Leaning heavily against him, I shuffle toward the window. Each step sends pain shooting through muscles unused to freedom, to movement, to choice. The frantic run from the stronghold has left me stiff and aching.

The window seems miles away, but finally, we reach it. Talon pushes it open, and the shock of mountain air floods the room: crisp, wood-scented, achingly pure.

I grip the windowsill, trembling as I gaze out at the vista spread before me. Mountains rise in the distance, their peaks snow-covered, jagged against a blue so intense it hurts my eyes. The sanctuary sits in a valley, log buildings scattered amongtowering pines. A creek tumbles over rocks below our window, water flashing silver in the sunlight.

“My God,” I whisper.

So much space. So much sky. So much beauty I’d forgotten existed.

Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and unexpected. Twenty years stolen. Twenty years of concrete walls and artificial light instead of this. Twenty years of never feeling rain on my face or wind in my hair or grass beneath my feet.

“It’s still here,” I whisper, the words inadequate for the storm inside me. “The world. It’s still here.”

Talon’s hand settles warm at the small of my back. “Yes. And so are you.”

I turn to look at him, really look at him. Not Allard Reeve, Syndicate security chief, but Talon—whoever he truly is beneath the layers of deception and duty. His eyes meet mine, something flickering in their depths that makes my breath catch.

“Thank you,” I say simply. “For getting me out.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We’re not done.” His voice roughens. “Your daughter—”

“Is safe,” I finish for him. “With the Cravens. With her mate.”

“Yes, but the Syndicate won’t stop. And now they’ve seen the phoenix.” His jaw tightens. “Everything’s changing, Lila. Faster than anyone predicted.”

“I know.” I turn back to the window, to the sky and trees and freedom. “I can feel it.”

The door opens again. Zoe stands there, her expression tight.

“Sorry to interrupt the field trip, but there’s someone else who needs to see her.” Her eyes flick to Talon, something passing between them I can’t quite read. “Viktor’s arrived.”

Talon nods, turning to help me back to bed. “The founder of Aurora,” he explains. “He’ll have questions.”

“About the Shard,” I guess.

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