Page 22 of Dark Rebel's Reckoning

The man in the photo was in his mid-fifties or early sixties, with patchy blond hair that was gray in spots and a few extra pounds. He looked like someone who had been handsome back in the day, but his bitter expression detracted from his appeal. This was a man who had been dealt a nasty hand in life, and it showed in every line and groove on his face.

The worst part was that she felt nothing looking at him. There was no recognition, not even a sense of familiarity. She was looking at a complete stranger who was the father of her daughter, and someone she had once loved.

"Anything?" Jasmine asked.

Kyra shook her head. "Whatever they did to me, it was a thorough job."

Jasmine took the phone from her hands. "I wish I had a picture of him when he was younger. Maybe that would have stirred something. I have a photo album back home. There should be some pictures there."

"I would love to see it if you are okay with sharing it with me."

"Of course." Jasmine leaned over and kissed her cheek, making Kyra's heart swell with love and appreciation for this daughter she hadn't known she had.

"I feel so fortunate to have you." Kyra reached for Jasmine's hand. "I'm infinitely richer now than I was yesterday, and not just because I am free."

"Me too." Tears shone in Jasmine's eyes.

Kyra nodded, letting a moment of silence stand between them. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, yet the adrenaline of learning these things about her past and her futurekept her from fully succumbing to fatigue. She leaned back into her seat, letting her eyes drift over Fenella, who had settled deeper into the blanket, lost in her own thoughts.

Outside, through the airplane window, the sky stretched endless and open, the horizon a pale line of a pinkish dawn.

Some answers had come, but more mysteries remained—especially her own induction into immortality. She'd noticed how Max had flinched when that topic arose, so maybe she shouldn't discuss it in his presence.

She slanted a glance at him. He was such a handsome guy, tall and broad-shouldered. He wore a simple white T-shirt that was a little dirty now, and black cargo pants. His dark blond hair was mussed as if he'd run his fingers through it repeatedly, and it occurred to her that he resembled Boris a little. The blond hair and blue eyes, the square jaw, but Max was leagues above Boris, which made sense since he was the scion of gods.

Hey, so was she, and it was much better than being an experiment gone wrong or right, or the daughter of fanatics who had ruined their daughter's life because she had married outside their faith.

That was speculation, though. Jasmine didn't know that for a fact. Still, it made sense, given what Boris had told Jasmine. The divorce papers didn't make sense though. Why would anyone bother with that?

Oh well, unless there was a way to unlock her memories or the monster in the body bag knew what had actually happened to her, she would never know.

With a sigh, Kyra leaned back in her seat, letting her head rest against the cushion. At last, she closed her eyes, letting the faint hum of the airplane settle into her bones.

Soft chatter drifted from a few rows behind, and occasionally, someone stirred, but Kyra was enclosed in her own bubble of stillness. The events of the day—the rescue, the revelation that she had a daughter, and the story of gods and immortals—all blurred together in a surreal montage.

The gentle rocking of the plane lulled her. The sweater's fabric felt soft against her skin, and she kept thinking that this was the beginning of a new chapter in her life.

She drifted in that half-awake state, neither asleep nor fully alert, letting her mind parse what had been revealed to her since she was freed. She was immortal. She had a grown daughter. She had been locked away by enemies much more dangerous and formidable than she'd imagined, and she was wrapped in a man's sweater—a man who looked at her with longing in his eyes.

At least now, she was finally free to figure out her past and realize her future.

15

SYSSI

Syssi breathed in the crisp air and zipped up her jacket. Despite the overhead heaters near the hangar's large sliding doors, the winter chill still nipped at her cheeks.

"You don't have to stand outside," Mey said. "We can sit inside the warm hangar or with Okidu on the bus."

Syssi cast her a smile. "I like the cold. We don't get enough cold days out here."

It had snowed at the higher elevations surrounding the LA basin, but the hills around the clan's airstrip rarely got even a dusting of snow, which was a blessing, since Syssi did not want anything delaying or complicating the jet's landing. Kalugal's plane was as large as the clan's strip could handle, and if Kian ever decided to outdo his cousin and purchase a larger jet for the clan, he would have to invest in lengthening the strip and building a larger hangar.

Mey threaded her arm through Syssi's. "I'm not a fan of the cold, but I won't leave you alone out here." She chuckled. "We've done a lot of bonding over our shopping spree, you and I. However,I can't get over Amanda not jumping on the opportunity. She's supposed to be the queen of shopping."

"She is, but not this kind. Rodeo Drive is more her style."

"True." Mey sighed. "I'm not a fangirl of Walmart either, but there was no time to shop around or order online. Besides, we didn't have the women's sizes, so there was no point in buying quality stuff."

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