Chapter 34 · The Moon Doesn't Own Us

Theron's chest was open.

Not metaphorically. Not some poetic wound-of-the-soul bullshit. His ribs were spread like a cracked door, and inside—light. Silver light that didn't belong in a body, pulsing like a second moon trying to claw its way out.

Lena couldn't breathe. The air in the chamber had gone cold and thick, like the space right before lightning hits. Kade was still gripping her wrist, pulling her back, but she couldn't move. Couldn't look away.

"You're the last key, Lena," Theron said again. His voice was calm. Too calm for a man whose sternum was cracked open. Blood dripped down his stomach, black in the moonlight filtering through the broken ceiling, but he didn't flinch. He just smiled.

Kade's hand tightened. "Don't listen to him."

"She has to." Theron took a step forward. The light inside him flared brighter. "The bond wasn't an accident, Locke. You knew that. You've always known."

Lena's throat closed. She looked at Kade. His jaw was locked, eyes fixed on Theron, and for the first time since she'd met him, he looked—scared.

"What's he talking about?" Her voice came out rough.

Kade didn't answer.

"Tell her," Theron said softly. "Or I will.