Page 207 of Lana Pecherczyk
“What difference does it make?”
“Unless she’s psychic, Cloud is a meticulous planner. If he wrote the word fake, then it probably is.”
“She’s dead. What’s the point?” The lines on the map blurred.
“Think.” Ash flicked River’s ear.
“Ow. Why did you do that?” He rubbed his boo-boo.
“Because you’re giving up,” Ash said, tone strained, eyes stark. “And if you give up, then what hope?—”
His jaw clicked shut, and he looked away.
Well shit.
Ash was afraid, River realized. He’d never seen his adopted brother so openly vulnerable before. Not even just recently, at the Shadow Market, when he saw his mother, his abuser, for the first time in decades.
Dawn filtered through the stained glass window. Movement outside—his parents noticing the ruined nesting caravan’s door, hugging tightly. Talo cupped Ravi’s hair, whispering comfort into her ear. Probably something to help build courage and tell River about it. They didn’t know he was inside.
Just like that couple at the Shadow Market, his parents seemed to find strength and solace in each other.
He looked around. Looked back outside.
This was it.
The mud. The mess.
And if River couldn’t lead through it—he glanced at Ash, still scowling at the maps—what hope did any of them have?
River had a mate. He had an anchor.
Blake was alive. She had to be.
His resolve hardened. No more self-pity. No more feeling untethered. River’s instincts were where he shone, where he flowed. His unhinged insanity could work to his advantage.
That’s what makes you the best person for the job.
Blake’s voice in his head spurred him on.
He closed his eyes, turned his focus toward that connection he’d once blocked. Was it truly gone or just muffled? He exhaled, followed the flow from his heart, down his arm. Thought about Blake.I love you. I love you. I love you.
A distant, muffled flicker answered like a voice underwater, too faint for words but unmistakably her. Alive.
He opened his eyes. “The second trove is fake.” He pointed at the canyon. “She’s there.”
“The canyon.” Ash’s finger tapped the location, not far from the ruins where the kelpie had attacked the second time, from where Cloud’s sanctuary lay hidden … from where the friendship of three foolish crow shifters had begun. “You sure?”
River stared at the map, pieces sliding into place. The old theme park ruins. The maintenance tunnels. Bioluminescent worms in abundance. Mana sometimes found ways to flow around the metal and plastic. It grew over it, reclaimed it. Even in desecrated places like Crystal City, mana flowed in spots that were fostered correctly. Ruins were the perfect hiding place for a forbidden trove. Metal in the surrounding environment would mask its treasures.
They’d seen it in action with Cloud’s sanctuary, so why not for the Collector’s hoard?
River grabbed his Guardian jacket and changed clothes. He strappedPeacemakerto his hip with steady fingers. No more trembling. No more hesitation.
“Wait.” Ash still stared at the map, brows knitted. “After the battle with Maebh, the Order searched around here for years. Wouldn’t they have found the hoard’s location again?”
“Maybe she amplified the wards and we missed it.”
“Wards won’t hide metal from a Guardian.”
