“—don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare leave me. Narla. Narla!”
She tried to open her eyes. The effort was monumental—her lids weighted with exhaustion, her body heavy and wrong.
“She’s waking up.” Another voice. Female. Avine? “Give her space?—”
“I’m not leaving her.”
“Wyatt, the healers need room to?—”
“I said I’m not leaving.”
Narla forced her eyes open.
The world came into focus slowly. Soft light filtering through gauzy curtains. The warm tones of Avine’s suite at the Siren’s Rest. Familiar faces crowded around the bed—Avine near the door, Junie clutching a vial of something purple, Cassia crackling with storm energy that she was clearly struggling to contain. And Wyatt.
He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand gripping hers so tightly, it should have hurt. His face was ravaged—gray withexhaustion, eyes red-rimmed, jaw shadowed with stubble. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
But he was here. Solid and real and alive.
He’s alive. Derren didn’t?—
His name scraped from her throat—barely a whisper. His entire body shuddered. His free hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone, his touch impossibly gentle despite the desperation radiating off him.
“You’re awake.” The words were torn from his chest. “You’re—Jesus, Narla. I thought?—”
“How long?”
“Thirty-six hours.” Avine stepped closer, her expression soft with concern. “The dark fire—it came within inches of your heart. If Ember hadn’t led Wyatt to you?—”
“Ember?”
“He flew into the kitchen window so hard, he cracked the glass.”
Wyatt’s hand tightened on hers. “Screaming. Beating his wings. I’ve never seen an animal that frantic. He kept flying toward the door, then back to me, then toward the door again. I knew something was wrong.”
“He led you there.”
“Three hours in made in two.” His voice had gone flat. Factual. The tone he used for case reports. “Broke every speed limit. Nearly crashed twice. Followed your owl the whole way—he kept circling back to make sure I was still behind him.” His composure cracked. “Found you in the parking lot, hidden between cars. You were so still. There was your lips had gone cold, your skin ash-grey. I thought?—”
“I’m here.” Narla pulled her hand free, reached up to cup his face. His stubble scraped against her palm. “I’m still here.”
“Barely.” His eyes were wet. Wyatt Gentry, who’d spent his whole adult life refusing to feel anything, was crying. “The darkfire was spreading. The healers had to carve it out of you—physically cut away the corrupted tissue to stop it from reaching your heart. If you’d been alone another ten minutes?—”
“But I wasn’t.” She stroked his cheekbone with her thumb. “Ember found you. You found me. My parents?—”
“They’re fine.” Cassia’s voice was fierce.
“Derren—”
“Gone.” Wyatt’s jaw tightened. “By the time I got to you, he’d vanished. But he left a message. Written in dark fire on the pavement beside you.”
Narla’s stomach dropped. “What did it say?”
Wyatt’s expression went cold with fury. “Three words. ‘Come find me.’” The room fell silent.
“He’s done hiding.” Junie’s voice was hard. “He knows we’re coming. He’s inviting the confrontation.”
“Because he thinks he’ll win.” Cassia’s storm energy crackled audibly. “Five centuries of surviving—he’s confident. Arrogant.”
