“My colony,” I replied simply, nodding at the group by the door. “They’re all as good as family.” About Miranda, I just shrugged. “She’s new, but she’s the reason we’re here tonight.”
Hayden’s jaw clenched, a muscle flickering beneath his skin. His gaze pinned me, studying me—slow, deliberate, as if memorizing every inch of my face. I stepped backward, the space feeling suddenly too close.
“So I’ve answered your questions,” I pressed. “It’s your turn.”
He cast a glance over his shoulder, then strode back toward the group of black boxes. The others receded into the shadows, their movements defensive, watchful. Hayden crouched,snapped a lid down on one box, then stood, his height imposing in the candlelight.
“Hand me the tape,” he called, voice clipped.
A woman fished in her jacket and tossed him a small roll. Hayden caught it in one hand and crossed the space between us. He held out his hand, fingers steady, eyes intent.
“Give me your right hand,” he said.
I hesitated, frowning. “Why?”
“Just give it to me.”
Uncertainly, I placed mine into his. His palm was warm—rough, callused. He wrapped a thin film around my ring with practiced efficiency, below the bandage that covered my thumb-tip.
“What’s this for?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Precaution,” he said, low enough that only I could hear. “In case signals can be tracked, even down here. It’s better if no one outside knows you’re with us tonight.”
His eyes lingered on mine for a heartbeat before he let go. I flexed my fingers, feeling a strange rush of adrenaline.
“Celine, Damian, wrap the others,” Hayden said without missing a beat.
I watched as two of his companions moved through the group. Celine was short but muscular and sharp-eyed, her black braid swinging as she worked. Damian was taller, all sharp angles, his movements oddly gentle as he pressed the film around my friends’ rings, one by one. The tape caught the candlelight, flashing silver over Nico’s knuckles, then Jessie’s.
Nobody objected, not even Robert, though his jaw tightened with each pass. I wondered what exactly the tape was blocking—signals, surveillance, something worse? It was impossible not to think of that first day on the islet, when Ryland’s father had wondered if Fairwell could be spying on us. Annahad laughed it off then, but I’d long since stopped believing anything Anna found funny.
When they’d finished, Hayden called his companions together for a whispered conference in the shadows. I could only catch fragments—words like “protocol,” “exposure,” “risk”—before he raised his voice, almost for our benefit: “I need to talk to them. I owe them some answers.”
For a moment I expected him to wave us over to the makeshift seats in the main chamber, but instead his gaze found mine again and he jerked his chin toward a narrow doorway at the far side of the cave—a darker gap in the stone I hadn’t noticed before.
“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he muttered. “You and your close crew. Leave Miranda with the others for now.”
Miranda, already a step behind us, froze. I shot her a quick, apologetic look. She just gave a small, tight smile and moved back toward the flickering circle of black-clad figures, her eyes wary but curious. I could see the gears turning in her head—she’d get her questions answered one way or another.
I felt every set of eyes on our backs as Hayden led me, Robert, Nico, Jessie, and Rosalie across the chamber and into the side tunnel. The passage was even narrower than the first, curling upward. Ten uneven, half-crumbling steps later, we emerged into a smaller, hidden chamber, lit by four candles.
This room had an odd, makeshift comfort: an old threadbare rug covered most of the damp floor, battered chairs clustered around a warped wooden table. On one side, I noticed tiny holes pocked the wall. I moved closer, peering through one of them. I gasped softly when I saw the moonlit ocean churning far below. These were... lookout points? Tiny lookout points that would have been impossible to spot from the outside. We were in some kind of… hideout, meant for watching the outside world from the shadows.
The scrape of chairs pulled me back. My friends sat in a circle, faces drawn, skin still ghost-pale. Hayden circled to the far side of the table and pulled out a chair for himself, not sitting until everyone else had found a place. His presence seemed to take up the whole room—tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair falling in untidy waves. Candlelight flickered off the planes of his face, making him look somehow older, almost haunted.
Robert leaned close to me, voice pitched low. “Who is this guy, Tani? Seriously.”
I stared at Hayden, his posture both guarded and oddly open, as if he was wrestling with how much to reveal and how much to keep hidden. “I honestly don’t know,” I murmured back. “But perhaps we’re about to find out.”
THIRTY-NINE
I sat directlyacross from Hayden, maybe five feet of old rug and shadows between us. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, every muscle taut. “So,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “I’m all ears.”
Hayden didn’t answer right away. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and stared at his hands, working his knuckles together until his skin blanched. There was a sudden kind of storm in his posture—a contained violence, a bracing for impact.
“There are things about me you don’t know,” he said finally, his tone rough, almost weary.
No kidding,I thought. But I kept my mouth shut and waited, the air between us drawn tight as wire.
