I'm losing my mind. That's the only explanation.
A soft knock on the bathroom door pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. “Tor? You okay in there?”
Carnage's voice is gentle, concerned, and it makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.
“Yeah,” I call back, my voice barely steady. “I'll be out in a minute.”
When I finally emerge, he's waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes search my face, seeing too much.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. “There's nothing to talk about.”
He doesn't believe me, I can see it written all over his face but he doesn't push. Instead, he reaches out and squeezes my shoulder gently.
“Halo's working on cracking the encryption on Kellan’s phone, but it's taking longer than we hoped. Whoever set it up knew what they were doing.”
Hope flickers weakly in my chest. “Do you think we'll be able to find out who his handler was?”
“Eventually, yeah. And when we do, we'll figure out who the other person is that's getting immunity.” His expression hardens. “Someone else is out there and the fact we don’t know who it is or what their intentions are, doesn’t sit well with me.”
The determination in his voice wraps around me like armor, making me feel less alone. Less broken.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything. I don't know what I'd do without?—”
“Don't.” He cuts me off gently. “You don't need to thank me, Tor. We're in this together, remember?”
I nod, blinking back tears that threaten to spill over.
The next few days blur together in a haze of planning and preparation.
We finalize the details for Saturday. How we'll grab my father after the hockey game, how we'll transport him to Lividica in Hollow Hills, where we have the upper hand against Xaden. It's Denver Kings territory, a place where Xaden's power doesn't reach, where we can control the situation.
Carnage spends hours teaching me to shoot better: adjusting my stance, correcting my grip. He's patient in a way that makes my chest ache with gratitude.
“You need to be able to protect yourself,” he tells me as we stand in the makeshift shooting range they've set up in the basement. “Especially now.”
His gaze drops meaningfully to my stomach, and I feel heat creep into my cheeks.
“I'm not going to put myself or the baby at risk,” I assure him.
“I know you won't. But the world we're walking into doesn't care about that.” His expression is grim. “So we train smart. We train safe. But we train hard.”
He teaches me hand-to-hand combat techniques that won't endanger the pregnancy. How to use leverage instead of strength, how to target vulnerable points, how to escape holds. Every lesson is another layer of armor I didn't know I needed.
By the time Saturday morning arrives, I'm wound so tight I feel like I might shatter at the slightest touch.
I'm getting ready for the game, pulling on jeans and Xaden's shirt that I still can't bring myself to throw away when my phone rings.
Maddison's name flashes across the screen, and when I answer, her voice is pure panic.
“Tor, you need to come to the library. Now.”
My heart slams against my ribs. “What's wrong? What happened?”
“Just… Get here. Now! I can't explain over the phone.”
The call ends abruptly, leaving me staring at my phone with dread pooling in my stomach.
