by Olivia Ash
As I stand, I impulsively stretch my arms as far as they’ll go. The pleasant sensation goes all the way down my back and into my legs. My muscles hum with delight, and I can almost feel my magic fizzing through my body. Repairing me. Healing me.
“Oh man.” I stretch my neck, rolling my head back and forth to limber it up, lost in the ecstasy of the quickly releasing tension.
“That’s unbelievable,” Drew mutters. “How are you standing right now?”
“Anyone else would be dead, Rory,” Jace adds with a subtle nod as he watches me, incredulous. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“I probably wouldn’t be without you guys.” I smile gratefully at them before returning my attention to Irena. “When does she wake up?”
“She got the fourth dose this morning,” Jace says. “She gets the last one in a week, but honestly, she looks better than ever. I wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up before the next dose.”
I smile with gratitude, almost unwilling to believe we’ve made it this far with her health. We’re so close.
“You need to lie down.” Drew sets his hand gently on the small of my back, trying to usher me back into the bed.
“Hell no.” I laugh and bat his hand away. “That’s the last thing I need. My muscles are tight as hell.” I stretch again, trying to limber them up.
With a few careful steps, I slide the curtain back to give Irena some privacy.
The thunder of boots in the hallway catches my attention, and I set my hands on my hips as I wait for the familiar footsteps to reach us.
Moments later, Tucker sticks his head in, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. “Sweet Jesus, you’re awake.” He elbows past Drew and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly.
“Hey, Tucker.” I chuckle and hug him back. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did—”
“Nah,” the weapons master interjects. “You would’ve beat his ass one way or another.” Tucker waves his hand flippantly, like he hadn’t found me bleeding out and at death’s door in the middle of the woods.
“You know him, though,” I say, tilting my head so that I can see Tucker’s face. “The stranger.”
It’s not a question because I already know. The expression on Tucker’s face—that was undeniable recognition.
Tucker sighs, his smile fading, and his gaze shifts across the other two men in the room. “Are you seriously going to sit there and let her work right now?”
Drew scoffs. “You try to stop her, then.”
“I’m serious,” I say sternly, trying to get them to focus. “The man in the woods—”
“Carter Holt,” Jace interrupts, much to my surprise.
I hesitate, tilting my head in confusion. “How did you—”
“Tucker told us everything.” Jace gestures toward the weapons expert and casually leans against the wall. “The man you fought is a Knight named Carter Holt.”
“I used to train with him,” Tucker says, crossing his arms. “Brutal and very good at what he does. Hates me with a passion. As much as I despise that man, I have to admit he’s easily one of the best Knights alive.”
I frown, rubbing my jawline as I try to stitch all of this together. “If he’s a Knight, then why did he have Spectre tech?”
“He had Spectre tech?” Drew asks incredulously.
I nod. “A knife. This Carter guy told me he’s working for Zurie.” I pause, my training warning me to keep the rest to myself. This is a new life, though, with new allies. I try to ignore the impulsive warning to keep secrets. Doing so would only hurt us all in the end. “He said his job is to bring me in.”
“Damn it.” Jace squeezes his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Oh, man,” Tucker says, his voice a bit dazed, as if he just realized something massive.
“What?” I prod.
“Carter always talked about the Spectres. Knights idolize you guys, you know,” Tucker gestures loosely between me and the curtain where Irena still sleeps. “It’s the ultimate dream, to ascend into the Spectres.”
“Was it your dream?” Jace asks with a quirked eyebrow.
“Hell no,” Tucker scoffs. “I just wanted out, like any sane man would.”
“Spectres always talked about Knights with disdain,” I admit, crossing my arms. “As disposable.”
Tucker laughs. “Ouch.”
“Not me,” I correct. “Obviously. But Zurie, Diesel—all of them despise the Knights. Working with them is a last resort.”
“At least we know who the mysterious vigilante is,” Drew says.
“But he didn’t work alone,” Jace points out. “And Spectres almost always work alone.”
“He’s still technically a Knight,” Tucker points out. “And a high-ranking one at that. Maybe he called in some backup.”
“That would make sense,” I admit. “Zurie won’t like it, of course, but this changes everything. If Zurie’s recruiting, that means she’s desperate.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Jace asks. “Desperate people make mistakes.”
“Not her.” I shake my head, eyes glossing over at all the memories of watching Zurie get backed into a corner. “It is definitely not good for us. A desperate Zurie does horrifying things, Jace.”
The three men around me stand in silence, each of them lost in thought as they process the news.
“Oh, man,” I mutter as another thought comes to me. “If she’s recruiting, I wonder… I wonder if… I mean, it would break so many rules…”
“Rory,” Jace says curtly. “You’re doing that thing Tucker does.”
“Look hot?” Tucker interjects.
Jace chuckles and shakes his head, rubbing his eyes as he tries to ignore the joke.
I slowly pace the hospital room. “With me and Irena out of the picture, Zurie has no heir. No one to take over her role as the Ghost. That means the role passes to Diesel—unless she takes on a new soldier to mentor.”
“You think she’s training Carter to be the Ghost?” Tucker asks, his eyebrows nearly in his hairline.
“I’m saying it’s possible,” I admit. “Though he would have a long and bloody string of challenges to prove his legitimacy. Taking me out would be one of those.”
“But he was told to bring you in,” Drew argues.
“I know,” I say, admittedly confused by that little detail.
As my mind puzzles over this new information, trying to make sense of it, a shot of intuition spears me through the gut. I stiffen, lifting my hand in warning for the others to listen for danger.
All three men pause, their wary eyes surveying the room. The bolt of intuition hits me again, like a knife through the back, and I pivot on my heel. The only thing behind me is the curtain hiding Irena’s bed, and yet I feel like I should prepare for war.
I just don’t know why.
All I know is something’s wrong. Very, very wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Four
In the silence that follows my hit of intuition, I barely breathe. I can’t allow any noises to interrupt us. Detecting the slightest huff of air or shuffle of a boot on the tile could be the difference between life and death.
There are no footsteps. No rustling fabric. No movement. And that’s when I realize what set me off.
The heart rate monitor is silent.
Irena.
My heart in my throat, I rip open the curtain—
—and nearly get a fist to my face.
I barely duck the blow. My forearm slides against my opponent’s torso as I redirect the attack. My world briefly blurs as my body reacts on impulse. My hands and legs run through familiar routines I’ve practiced hundreds of times before.
That’s when I realize it’s Irena.
Irena just tried to punch me.
In the face.
She stares at me, glaring with the fury of a sun, her once-brown eyes now bright green. Her dark hair flows around her face, the loose curls as wild as her expression.
&n
bsp; There isn’t a hint of recognition in her expression. Not one moment of clarity.
Just fury.
As I pause, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, she effortlessly grabs my arm. Her foot sweeps my leg, trying to kick out my knee and trip me. It’s an old technique we’ve tried on each other a hundred times, and I effortlessly hook my arm around her shoulder to counter. With a sharp grunt of effort, I use her own body weight against her as I throw her off balance to avoid the blow.
But she doesn’t stop—so, neither do I.
Our dance is fluid and deadly. We never once pause. Bits of it remind me of old times in the sparring ring, of the way we would joke and tease each other as we fought. If she recognized me at all, I would even call this fun.
She cocks her arm to land another blow, this time aiming for my jugular.
“Irena!” I shout, trying to snap her out of this.
Trying to fully bring her back.
For the first time since I pulled open the curtain, she hesitates. Her now-green eyes search mine, a hint of understanding slowly dawning on her face. She blinks rapidly, her eyebrows tilting upward.
“Rory?” she asks quietly.
“Yes.” I smile so broadly my face hurts as relief blisters through me. “Irena, you’re safe. Stop trying to kill me, already!”
“Oh my god.” She sighs with relief and pulls me closer, hugging me tightly as she presses her cheek against mine. I hold her to me, drinking in the soft and familiar scent of her hair.
To my surprise, her grip is tighter than it used to be. After a few moments, I feel pins and needles down my arm as she cuts off circulation.
I grab her shoulders and hold her at a short distance so I can study her face.
Those eyes.
“What happened?” I ask, trying to piece it together. “What—”
Her gaze shifts behind me, and she gasps in horror. “Rory, look out!”
I look over my shoulder as she shoves me behind her, putting herself between me and my men. Irena lifts her hands, ready for battle, and subtly eyes the door as she no doubt plans our escape.
Jace tenses. Drew squares his shoulders, frowning. Tucker reaches behind him, his shirt shifting as he no doubt wraps his hand silently around a hidden gun.
“They’re friends, Irena,” I assure her. “They’re—”
“They’re shifters,” she snaps, her eyes flitting briefly toward me. “I’ll take the big one. Can you handle the other two?”
“The big one?” Drew huffs, mildly offended.
I set my hand on her back to soothe her. “Irena, stop. Calm down.”
She doesn’t.
In the roiling surge of adrenaline that’s still burning through her, the deadly assassin charges her prey. Drew settles instantly into a fighting stance, his shoulders loose, and I know he’ll take her down if he has to.
If he can.
I have to stop this.
I grab her arm and pull her backward with all my strength. We topple to the ground, hitting the tile hard. Tangled together, we slide along the floor as I take her down. She falls, and I instantly lock her arm in an arm bar. For added security, I wrap my leg around her waist and hold her tight.
The whole thing is over in less than a second. We lay on the ground, Irena utterly immobilized beneath me. Our chests heave, and we glare daggers at each other.
“God damn,” Tucker mutters, his eyebrow lifting in surprise as he surveys my handiwork.
“Yeah,” Drew agrees, finally relaxing.
“Rory!” Irena snaps, trying twice to elbow me in the neck. “Stop this! What are you doing?”
“They’re safe, Irena,” I say through gritted teeth. Jolts of pain shoot through me from my still-healing injuries as I use every ounce of my strength to keep her in place.
She’s so damn strong. Way stronger than she used to be.
“Who are you?” Irena practically growls, glaring at me from the floor. “What happened to my sister?”
I sigh in disappointment. This is going to be so much harder than I thought.
“Irena, you’ve been out for a long time,” I say, trying my best to keep my voice calm even though I want to scream at her. “I almost lost you. You and Zurie were—”
At the mention of my former mentor’s name, Irena wrinkles her nose in disgust.
I hesitate, noticing the subtle shift in Irena’s features, but I need to calm her down first before I start interrogating her. “You were both taken, and Mason tried to kill me.”
As I pin her to the floor, I tell her everything. The pit. The magic. The swarm. My men. Our budding family, our newfound alliance. I tell her I’ve quit the Spectres, and that Zurie is after us both.
I tell her everything.
The longer I speak, the less she struggles. With every new development, her breath begins to even. Her lips settle into a thin line as she studies me, ruthless and calm, her eyes slightly narrowed as if she can’t entirely believe what she’s hearing.
When I’m done, I let silence settle on the hospital ward. I’m tempted to keep talking, to fill the aching quiet with something other than her disbelieving glare, but I force myself to wait.
It’s her turn to speak.
For quite some time, however, she doesn’t say anything. She just watches me, as though she’s analyzing a stranger.
“Let me up,” she eventually demands.
“Swear to me you won’t touch them,” I order.
“Rory,” she snaps. “Get the hell off of me!”
“Swear it,” I say calmly, not once wavering despite her cold tone.
Irena grimaces, clearly furious. After a moment, though, she finally groans in defeat. “Fine. I won’t.”
Cautiously, I release my grip on her arm. She instantly slides out of my hold and gets to her feet. As she runs a hand through her beautiful dark hair, she quickly paces the far wall. Her eyes glaze over, and I suspect she’s simply trying to think through everything I just told her.
“A dragon,” she mutters. Her green eyes flit to me and narrow with a hint of doubt. “The dragon vessel, in fact.”
I stand and square my shoulders. “Yes.”
“You’ve taken in shifters,” she says with a nod to the three men behind me. “And a Knight.”
“Yes,” I confirm.
“I should k—” She can’t finish the sentence. Her voice breaks, and she chokes on her words. Her eyebrows tilt upward, and for a baffling moment, it almost looks like she’s going to cry.
“You should kill me?” I finish for her.
In my periphery, Jace stiffens. I can see him shift into warrior mode, fully prepared to end this if he has to. Tucker still holds his gun behind his back, and Drew has been ready for murder from the start.
But she won’t do it. That’s the only reason I told her all of this—because I know her better than she sometimes even knows herself.
Even though she doesn’t realize it, even though she’s fighting it right now, she can handle this.
I know one thing for a fact, however—the moment I get Jace alone, we need to have a little chat with the doctor. Because whatever happened during Irena’s coma, she has definitely changed.
The eyes, her new strength—we might have brought her back, but it’s clear the bio-weapon did something else to her.
“You would never hurt me, Irena,” I say calmly, stepping in front of my men as she paces. “Not in a million years.”
She pauses with her back to me, her hand on her neck as she sighs deeply.
Irena is gifted. Brutal. Deadly. She could probably get Tucker’s gun off of him, and all of us would have at least one bullet hole in us when she left. She’s cleared dozens of rooms full of talented shooters and left nothing but corpses in her wake.
I know because I’ve watched her do it.
I know because she killed all those men, over a decade ago, to save me.
To save me after I screwed up on a mission—after Zurie tried to push me into the field l
ong before I was ready.
That’s what sisters do.
That’s who we are.
“I love you, Rory,” Irena says, her voice tight and sad. “You know I would do anything for you. But this? Dragons?” She turns on her heel and glares at me. “After everything we’ve been through?”
“They’ll surprise you,” I promise, speaking from experience.
Irena’s gaze shifts behind me, no doubt studying each of the men standing, ready for war, at my back.
Her shoulders relax, and she sighs in defeat. “Show me,” she demands, her green eyes shifting to mine. “Show me everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“It’s beautiful,” Irena admits.
She leans her elbows against the railing of a balcony as we look out over the rear end of the embassy property. Her eyes flutter closed, and as she takes in a deep breath of the mountain air, she hums with delight. For the first time since she woke up, a small smile plays at the edge of her lips.
Ah. There’s the sister I know.
“I can’t believe how much I’ve missed,” she says sadly, rubbing her face. “I’m jealous that you got to kill Mason.”
I wink. “Beat you to it.”
“This is… it’s…” She looks out over the misty ravine as dragons dive into its depths. Others soar in tight formation across the sky, surveying the land below, and we are quite literally surrounded by shifters.
“Overwhelming,” I admit.
She scoffs. “You think?”
Standing here with her, it feels like old times. Like it hasn’t been ages since we’ve spoken, like I haven’t gone without her for far too long. We’re close again, and just like that, the world is a little better.
I smile.
“You look beautiful,” Irena admits, scanning my body. “Did the dragon magic do that, too?”
“Yep.” I adjust my bra. “Bigger boobs and everything.”
She laughs and pushes me in the shoulder, throwing me slightly off balance with her oddly enhanced strength. She hesitates, her smile faltering as she stares at her palms with a wary and slightly concerned expression.
“Look,” I say softly. “Irena, the Vaer tried to kill you with something no one understands. I guess it’s only natural for there to be some… side effects.”
