Page 212 of Without a Trace
Trace leaned against the kitchen counter like he was debating leaving the room entirely. Alden sat at the edge of the couch, head in his hands. Zeke watched me like I was a grenade already rolling across the floor.
I sat in the center of it all. Hoodie unzipped, knees scraped raw. My voice barely back from screams and shocks it had taken earlier. Thirelin still hummed beneath my skin, even now that we’d left it behind.
The safe-house wasn’t safe. Not from what we’d become.
But when Rhett passed me the glass—I drank.
The burn was welcome pain. It cut through the noise. Through the ache.
“Oh no,” Kane muttered. “She’s in that mood.”
I tipped the glass back again. “What mood?”
“The one where you make us all regret surviving,” he said.
Alden looked up. “Scarlett…”
I spun slowly, eyes on all of them now. “What? We’re in a hidden fortress in the woods, betrayed by the girl I swore was my best friend, bonded by prophecy and shit none of us even understand… surrounded by silence like it’s holding its breath.” I smiled—sharp, unraveled. “Might as well be drunk while we wait to die, right?”
Trace looked like he might break the glass in his hand.
“I’m kidding,” I said, smiling too wide. “Mostly.”
Zeke stood. “You need to rest.”
“I need a fucking lobotomy,” I said. “But tequila will do.”
Rhett poured another round while Kane clinked his glass to mine.
The fire cracked low.
The bottle was half-empty now. My glass full.
They were all talking—finally. Voices layered, circling the room like smoke. Not loud. Not angry. Just tired. Tense. Truth slipping out in pieces.
Zeke stood by the map on the far wall, tracing lines with his finger like he could still fix it all with strategy. Kane paced. Rhett leaned on the arm of the couch, sipping slow, sharp-eyed. Alden hadn’t moved in ten minutes. And Trace—Trace sat across from me like gravity tied him there.
“Lena…” Rhett said under his breath. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“She knew everything,” Zeke added. “That you were sisters. That your father was alive. She knew the bond had formed—and she wanted it broken before it rooted too deep.”
Kane ran a hand through his hair. “So what now? We go hunt her down? Pretend we’re not walking into a war?”
Trace’s tattoos had stopped glowing hours ago. But I could still feel the heat of them on my skin. The way Thirelin had answered our presence. The way the walls had pulsed like it knew us—like it wanted us back.
Like it wasn’t done with me.
“—the Codex doesn’t even say how the bond ends,” Kane said. “Just that someone always breaks.”
“Well, maybe it’s different this time,” Rhett muttered.
Zeke laughed once, dry. “It’s never different. That’s the point.”
“Y’all just had to seal the bond, didn’t you?”
Kane muttered under his breath—half-joking, but no one laughed.
It dropped like a blade.
