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“Give me the picture.”
Caden held out his hand from the driver’s seat, blood darkening the sleeve of his white shirt.
Nora laughed once. It came out ugly. “Sure. And then what? You tell me it’s fake? You tell me I’m confused because I almost got strangled by psycho chain people in a parking garage?”
“It’s evidence from Selene.”
“It’s a photo of you outside my mother’s house while it was burning.” She shoved it against the windshield between them. “That part seems pretty clear.”
The photo was old enough that the corners had curled. Cheap glossy paper. A date stamped in orange along the bottom.
October 14.
The night her mother died.
A burning house filled most of the frame. Flames poured from the front windows. Smoke climbed into the black sky.
And there he was.
A teenage boy in a dark coat, standing near the curb with his face turned toward the fire.
Caden.
Not the man sitting beside her now with blood on his shirt and fury tucked under his jaw. The boy in the picture looked younger than she’d expected. Maybe seventeen. Maybe eighteen. His hair was longer. His face thinner.
But it was him.
Nora knew his face now. Knew the hard line of his mouth when he was trying not to say something. Knew the flat gray of his eyes when he was scared and pretending he wasn’t.
The boy in the photo had that same look.
Like he knew the fire was about to do something worse.
Caden’s hand stayed out.
“Nora.”
“No.”
The car was still parked on level three of the garage. The collector’s black chains had burned into the concrete twenty feet away. One sprinkler head dripped water in a steady little tick. Somewhere below them, tires squealed. Security. Police. Maybe more Council people coming to clean the place before anyone normal saw too much.
Nora’s scraped palms stung. Her ribs hurt when she breathed. The ring on her left hand sat hot and heavy against her skin.
She hated it.
She hated that five minutes ago Caden had been on his knees in front of her, one hand on her chest, telling her to breathe with him while fire tried to crawl out of her mouth.
She hated that she had listened.
“You were there,” she said.
Caden looked through the windshield instead of at her. “Yes.”
Just that.
No denial. No careful lawyer words.
Her throat went tight anyway.
“You were there when she died.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought maybe that was something you should mention before you put a ring on me?”
His fingers flexed once. “I was going to tell you.”
“Oh, wow. Great. When? After our fake honeymoon? After you found my brother? Maybe after I burned down half of Manhattan for you?”
“Nora—”
“Don’t.” She slapped her hand against the dashboard. The ring flashed orange.
Caden grabbed her wrist before the heat could spread.
Not hard. That almost made it worse.
His palm was cold against her skin. His shoulder trembled under his ruined shirt, just a little. He was hurt. Bad enough that his color looked wrong.
She pulled free.
“You don’t get to touch me right now.”
His hand dropped.
For a second, he didn’t look like Caden Cross. Billionaire CEO. Man who bought buildings before breakfast and made cops nervous just by showing up.
He looked exhausted.
Then his face shut down again.
“We need to leave.”
“I need answers.”
“You need to be somewhere Selene can’t send another retrieval team after you.”
“Retrieval team?” Nora stared at him. “That’s what you call them?”
“It’s what they call themselves.”
“Cute.”
“They weren’t there to kill you.”
She glanced toward the burned chains on the floor. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“They were there to take you alive.”
That landed colder than the garage air.
Nora looked at the ring.
“Why?”
Caden started the car.
“Caden.”
The engine came alive with a low growl. His hands tightened around the wheel.
“Because if Selene gets you without that ring on your hand,” he said, “you won’t get another chance to ask me anything.”
He put the car in reverse.
Nora grabbed the gearshift before he could move. “No.”
His eyes cut to hers. “Move your hand.”
“No.”
“Nora, there are at least six people coming up that ramp.”
“Then tell me why you were at my mother’s house.”
A headlight beam slid across the far concrete wall.
Caden swore under his breath.
“Now is not the time.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep picking the worst possible moments.”
“Funny. I feel like the worst possible moment was when my mother burned alive and you apparently decided to stand outside and watch.”
His face went still.
The car behind them turned onto the level.
Black SUV. No plates.
Caden shoved the gearshift into reverse despite Nora’s grip. The engine jerked. She caught herself against the door as he spun the car around hard enough to make her shoulder hit the window.
“Seat belt,” he snapped.
“Go to hell.”
“Nora.”
She clicked it in.
He floored it.
The SUV came after them.
Of course it did.
Nora twisted in her seat as Caden shot down the ramp. Two men got out of the SUV behind them. Dark suits. No guns that she could see.
That was somehow worse.
One lifted his hand.
A black chain uncoiled from the concrete like it had been sleeping inside it.
“Oh, hell no.”
“Hold on,” Caden said.
“I am holding on.”
He drove straight at the barrier arm.
Nora made a noise that was not a word.
The arm snapped over the hood and flew behind them. Caden took the turn onto the street too fast. The back end fishtailed. His injured shoulder slammed against the seat.
His breath punched out.
“Caden.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are bleeding all over your expensive car.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That is not reassuring.”
The black SUV burst out of the garage behind them.
Caden checked the mirror. His jaw tightened.
Nora looked down at the old picture in her lap. The teenage version of him stood outside her childhood home, frozen in grainy yellow light.
Her mother’s face flashed through her head.
Not the dead version. Not the photo from the funeral where people had tried to make her look peaceful.
Her mother at the kitchen counter, swatting Nora’s hand away from cookie dough.
Her mother kneeling to tie Milo’s shoes.
Her mother saying, Don’t play with matches, bug. Fire doesn’t care if you’re sorry after.
Nora swallowed hard.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“That means nothing when you say it.”
“It means my house.”
She turned toward him. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s warded.”
“Your house has wards now?”
“Yes.”
“Like magic wards.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You saw chains come out of concrete.”
“I know what I saw. I’m still allowed to hate it.”
“You can hate it from behind a locked door.”
Nora watched the city blur past outside. Traffic lights. Late-night buses. People standing under awnings with paper cups in their hands, having regular problems. Rent. Bad dates. Hangovers.
Nobody on that sidewalk knew the street under them might have something sleeping below it.
Nobody knew Nora could set a garage on fire by panicking.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She froze.
Caden noticed. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t answer it.”
“It could be Milo.”
“It could be Selene.”
“It could be my brother.”
“Put it on speaker.”
Nora dug the phone out. Unknown number. No caller ID.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Caden reached for it.
She pulled it away. “Try taking my phone and see what happens.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“And I’m trying to find my brother.”
The phone stopped buzzing.
A second later, a text came through.
ONE IMAGE.
Nora opened it before Caden could stop her.
It was a picture of the old Vale house.
Or what was left of it.
The city had torn the place down years ago. Nora knew that. She’d watched from across the street while machines chewed through the blackened walls. There was a pharmacy there now. Bright lights. Cheap shampoo. A red neon sign that blinked all night.
But in the photo, the house stood intact.
Fire rolled behind the windows.
And a little boy stood on the front porch.
Milo.
Maybe eight years old. Wearing dinosaur pajamas. One hand pressed against the glass of the front door.
Nora’s breath stopped.
Under the image was an address.
Not the old house.
A subway service entrance three blocks from it.
Then another message appeared.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT HIM BREATHING.
Caden read it over her shoulder.
“No.”
Nora shoved the phone toward him. “That’s Milo.”
“It’s bait.”
“It’s my brother.”
“It’s an old photo.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Selene.”
“Then tell me what she wants.”
Caden didn’t answer.
The SUV behind them was gone now. Either they’d lost it, or it had stopped needing to chase them.
Nora hated both options.
“Take me there,” she said.
“No.”
“Take me there.”
“No.” His voice came out sharp enough to cut. “You are not walking into a service tunnel because someone sent you a picture and a threat.”
“What do you expect me to do? Sit in your house while they hurt him?”
“I’ll send people.”
“Your people?”
“Yes.”
“The people who wear ash-gray suits and call kidnapping a retrieval?”
“My people are not Selene’s people.”
“You’re all the Council.”
“That doesn’t mean we all want the same thing.”
“It kind of does.”
Caden hit the brakes at a red light. The car stopped hard.
He turned toward her.
Blood had soaked through his shirt near the shoulder. His face was pale, but his eyes were locked on hers.
“You think I don’t understand what this looks like?” he said. “Fine. I was there that night. I failed your mother. I have been trying to fix the damage from that fire ever since.”
Nora’s hand closed around the picture.
“Failed her how?”
The light changed.
Cars behind them honked.
Caden didn’t move.
“Nora.”
“Say it.”
A horn blared again.
She unbuckled, leaned across the console, and grabbed the front of his shirt.
Caden’s eyes dropped to her fist, then back to her face.
“You want me alive so badly?” she whispered. “You want me to trust you enough to put this stupid ring on every morning and follow your rules?”
“Nora—”
She pressed her left hand flat against his chest.
The ring burned bright between them.
Orange light spilled over his throat, his jaw, the blood on his collar.
Caden sucked in a breath.
“Tell me the truth.”
The car behind them laid on its horn.
Nora didn’t care.
“Tell me why you were outside my house. Tell me what happened to my mother. Tell me why Selene thinks she can use me like a damn battery.”
His heart slammed under her palm.
For the first time since she met him, Caden Cross looked scared of saying the wrong thing.
Not scared for himself.
Scared of her.
“I was sent there to close a breach,” he said quietly.
Nora blinked. “A what?”
“The fire at your house wasn’t an accident.”
Her fingers dug into his shirt.
“I know that.”
“No. You don’t.” His voice roughened. “Your mother didn’t die because a stove line blew. She died because something came through the fire, and I couldn’t force it back.”
The ring flared.
Heat crawled up Nora’s wrist.
“What came through?”
Caden looked at the photo in her other hand.
Then at the subway address glowing on her phone.
“The same thing Selene is trying to wake up now.”
Nora’s mouth went dry.
“And Milo?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Caden snapped. “But I know why they took him.”
“Why?”
His gaze dropped to the ring.
“To get you underground.”
A soft chime sounded from the car’s dashboard.
Caden went still.
Nora looked up.
The navigation screen had changed by itself.
The route to his house was gone.
In its place was a single red line leading toward the subway service entrance.
Then the car doors unlocked.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Caden’s hand shot for the lock button.
Too late.
A voice came through the speakers.
Not Selene’s.
A boy’s voice. Thin. Shaky. Familiar enough to split Nora right down the middle.
“Sis?”
Nora stopped breathing.
“Milo?”
Static hissed through the car.
Then her brother spoke again, louder this time.
“Don’t let him open the door.”