Page 13 of Magic Undaunted

“He’s one ofthem,” Finnian said, his voice low and dangerous. “We’re here to save our own and other innocents, not?—”

“He’s coming with us,” Elyria interrupted, her tone sharp and final.

Finnian’s jaw tightened. “You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment.”

A heated silence settled between them, the tension thick as the rest of the rebels watched warily. She knew what Finnian was implying. He wasn’t blind to the history she shared with Stryker, and neither were the rest of those with her. They knew there was something unresolved between them. But this wasn’t about that.

“I’m not,” Elyria said, her voice low, controlled. “He could have information. What he knows could be valuable. We’re not leaving him behind.”

Finnian’s eyes flicked to Stryker, then back to Elyria, before he let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But if this comes back to bite us, it’s on you.”

Elyria swallowed the knot in her throat as Finnian turned away, quietly snarling orders to the others. She knelt beside Stryker’s cell, her heart and mind racing as she unlocked the door.

“Elyria,” Stryker rasped, his voice rough but laced with the same intensity that had always drawn her in. Even now, broken and bruised, he still exuded power, still had that magnetic pull she couldn’t ignore.

“We need to get you out of here,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as she helped him to his feet.

“Too weak to shift,” he murmured. “I couldn’t hold them off.”

His body was warm against hers, sending a jolt of awareness through her that made it hard to breathe.Focus, Elyria. Focus.

He leaned against her for support, his breath hot against her neck as he struggled to stand. “Why are you doing this?”

She glanced up at him, her heart pounding as their eyes met. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, the danger, the rebels, the rescue operation—all of it swallowed by the electric pull between them. She wanted to tell him the truth. Wanted to admit that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, that seeing him here had brought everything rushing back.

But instead, she steeled herself. “Because I’m not like the Council,” she said, her voice hard. “I don’t abandon people, even when they disappoint me… even when they are overwhelmed by a force greater than their own.”

Stryker’s gaze darkened, something unspoken passing between them, heavy with both tension and regret.

Before either of them could say anything more, Finnian’s sharp whisper cut through the air. “We need to move. Now.”

Elyria nodded, tearing her gaze away from Stryker as they began their escape. But even as they slipped back out of the fortress and through the Phantom Bayou, she was convinced that Stryker being there might have changed everything. He was with them, and nothing would ever be the same again.

The night descended like a hangman’s rope threatening to end all of them as Elyria led her group through the twisted paths of the Phantom Bayou. The rescued fae stumbled behind them, weakened but alive, supported by herteam as they made their retreat. Beside her, Stryker moved in silence, his steps steady despite his injuries, his presence a constant, electrifying pulse that she couldn’t ignore.

The decision to bring him back to their base had been the only one she could make, but it hadn’t been an easy one. Finnian’s distrust was palpable, and she could feel the tension among her rebels. Stryker wasn’t just any prisoner—they all knew his ties to the High Council. He had hunted some of the rebels, destroyed several of their hiding places, and they knew her history with him.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past or any lingering feelings she had fought to suppress. They were in dangerous territory, and the threat of pursuit was very real. Every step they took, every whisper of wind through the warped trees, felt like a warning.

“Keep moving,” she ordered, her voice low but firm as she glanced over her shoulder at the group. “We need to be out of the Phantom Bayou before the mage’s forces realize we’ve taken their prisoners.”

The rebels obeyed, their movements silent and practiced. Finnian caught her eye, his face hard with disapproval, but he said nothing. Not yet.

Stryker hadn’t spoken since they left the fortress, but his presence weighed on her. She could feel his gaze on her, burning like a flame against her skin. He had questions, she could see it in the way his mouth formed a thin line and tightened as if he was holding back. But he knew now wasn’t the time for those questions. Not with danger nipping at their heels.

The silence between them grew heavier as they neared the edge of the Phantom Bayou. As they approached the rebel camp, Elyria ripped a piece of her shirt off, fashioning a blindfold and placing it over Stryker’s eyes before binding his hands with a piece of kudzu vine. He started to protest, seemed to thinkbetter of it, and accepted both without complaint. She had no illusion about whether she’d actually incapacitated him; she hadn’t, but she knew it would make her people feel safer. Elyria could feel her heart racing, though whether it was from the looming threat behind them or Stryker’s proximity so close to her side, she couldn’t say. The air between them all but crackled with unspoken emotions, the betrayal and unresolved feelings swirling like a tempest on the horizon waiting to break.

She glanced at him, her breath catching for a moment. He looked worn, his once regal presence now faded under the weight of his injuries, but the fire in his dark eyes had still been there, burning as fiercely as ever.

“Elyria,” Stryker said finally, his voice low, rough from the pain but steady. “Why are you doing this? Why save me?”

Forcing herself to stay focused, she shrugged. “I told you,” she said, her voice cool and controlled even though inside, everything felt like it was unraveling. “I don’t abandon people.”

He shook his head. “This isn’t about that. Not entirely. You could have left me there. You should have. You have no reason to trust me.”

Elyria turned away, even though he couldn’t see her. He was right. She had no reason to trust him—not really. But something deeper, something she couldn’t quite name or suppress, had compelled her to make this choice. And now, she was trapped between the past they shared and the uncertain future that lay ahead.

“We’ll talk when we get to base,” she said, her tone final, shutting down any further conversation.

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