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A collective snort rippled through the group, tension easing ever so slightly as humor did its work. We were a team, however unconventional, bound by purpose and a shared resolve to face the inferno ahead.
“All right,” I said, stopping in my tracks as we reached the food court. “This is it. Remember, we’re in this together. Watch each other’s backs, and if things get too heated...” I paused, flicking my wrist to send a spiral of flames soaring into the air before snuffing it out with a clench of my fist. “...I’ll take over.”
“Lead the way, Tessa,” Niko said, his hand finding mine and squeezing once—solidarity in the brief touch.
“Time to hunt,” I declared, my pulse quickening with the promise of the fight to come.
“Let’s give ’em hell,” Riker finally said, his reluctance replaced with the steady burn of determination.
“Besides,” I added, throwing my hands up as if to balance the gravity of our situation with a dose of levity, “it’s not every day you get to punch a djinn king in his smug face. Opportunities like these are what make life spicy, amigos.”
Elijah pushed his blond hair out of his eyes. “Dude, you don’t even have to ask. You had me at ‘Let’s kick some supernatural butt.’ Besides,” he said, flashing a lopsided smile, “when have I ever let you down?”
“Never,” I said, meeting his supportive gaze. “And that’s why you’re the Robin to my Batman, minus the tights... I hope.”
“Oh, hell no,” Helen said. “I wear the tights in this duo.”
Laughter broke the tension, crackling through the air. Elijah’s loyalty was the kindling we needed to ignite our courage.
With a team like this, maybe we could actually win.
CHAPTER 19
I led the way into the gaping maw of the tunnel entrance. It was like stepping into the belly of a beast, the musty air clinging to my skin. Each footstep echoed—a taunt daring us to come further, to tumble into whatever wickedness Zayn had concocted.
“Feels like walking into a supernatural version of my mom’s kitchen,” I murmured, half-expecting Maria Fury to leap out with a wooden spoon and a lecture about my life choices.
Especially the ones I’d made over the last few days.
I shook my head, reminding myself to stay alert.
That’s when I realized that if I concentrated, I could feel the thrum of arcane energies in the floor beneath our feet.
“Keep an eye out for anything that wasn’t here last time,” I instructed.
“Or anything overly decorative,” Helen suggested.
“Statues, tapestries, suspiciously intricate tile work?” Niko said, his voice a rumble that seemed to blend seamlessly with the subterranean vibe.
“Exactly,” I replied. “We know Zayn has a flair for the dramatic. I wouldn’t be surprised if he threw in a lava pit for good measure.”
The cool dampness of the tunnel air prickled against my skin as I led our motley crew deeper toward King Zayn’s underground lair. My eyes, growing accustomed to the darkness, flicked from shadow to shadow, hunting for signs of treachery in every crevice.
“Steady,” I murmured, the word barely a whisper yet sharp enough to slice through the silence. Just ahead, a thin wire stretched across the path, nearly invisible against the stone floor—a tripwire connected to something decidedly more explosive than a party popper.
“Riker,” I called out softly, nodding toward the danger with a tilt of my head.
With the grace of a panther and the seriousness of a bomb squad pro, Riker moved forward. His massive hands, surprisingly delicate, worked to disarm the trap.
God, those hands—my core clenched as I remembered how they’d felt inside me.
“Got it,” he confirmed, his voice steady as bedrock.
“Nice fingers. You play piano with those?” I said, unable to help myself.
“Only for special audiences,” Riker shot back, a half-smirk playing on his lips.
This time, Niko was the one who growled.
