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Locked in the shadows of the van, all our gazes swing upward, worried the helicopter will spot us. We release a collective breath as the sound of whirring blades recedes.

Cassian’s agony intensifies then, the fear so bitter it floods my mouth and drops me to my side. I can’t care or think about anything else but this. An icy burn penetrates my body. I hiss. Arch my spine. Releasing Lia, I thrust my fists down hard, grinding my knuckles into the unforgiving floor, as if that pressure could offer me some relief.

“Jacinda? What’s wrong?” Tamra cries, her voice a distant echo in my ears.

Another chopper flies overhead, deafeningly loud and then gone, a faint drone as it fades away.

“Cassian,” I get out from between clenched teeth.

It’s not the gray draki doing this to him. I know this with a deep vibration in my bones.

Something else has him … is with him. His fear tastes different … more acrid.

I close my eyes as my agony—his agony—swings into something else.

Dread sweeps over me. I curl into a small, self-contained ball, holding myself tightly.

And suddenly I’m fine. I’m fine. But
he
isn’t. Cassian isn’t fine. He isn’t anything. He’s gone. Just like that.

Like a string snapped. There’s nothing there anymore. No connection. No bond.
No Cassian
. It’s too soon for distance to have severed us. The sound of my racing heart fills my ears. I poke around inside myself, hunting for him, some proof that he’s still there. With me. But nothing.

No Cassian.

I lurch up with a gasp and scream his name. “Cassian!”

We pull over hours later.

I’ve stopped screaming, aware that I was freaking out the others. I can’t imagine what Will must have thought stuck behind the wheel, driving to the sound of me in the back. Now I’m just hugging myself again, rocking and swaying as if I were a child in need of comfort. And I am. In so many ways. From the beginning, Cassian has always been there. Even in Chaparral when he wasn’t there, he was there, a constant specter. And then he did appear—never going away even when I wanted him to. Always looking out for me. And now he’s gone.

Tamra tries to comfort me, but I can hardly speak to the others. Especially Miram. How can I look at her and tell her what I know for a certainty? That Cassian is gone. Dead.

At one point, Tamra whispers to her, explaining how Cassian and I were forced into bonding back in the pride—and that I still chose Will.

I see Miram pull back, the fury flashing in the dull brown of her eyes. She turns to me with a look I know well. She loathes me now more than ever. In her eyes, I’ve rejected everything I should have embraced—our pride, the draki way. Her brother. She can’t understand this, and I don’t expect her to.

How could I choose Will over the precious draki
prince
of our pride? It’s the question I see in her face, and there’s no simple reason I can give.

Then again, there’s nothing simple about Will. I think back to what he can do—bend earth, resist shading, his immense strength—and it’s glaringly inaccurate to consider him a human. But then I can’t think of him as a draki either. And this strikes me as sad. Will doesn’t belong anywhere. Not among humans. Not among draki.

But he belongs with me
. The conviction is still there, as senseless and dangerous as always, seeping into my bones, my heart. A fact I wouldn’t change even if I could.

The back door of the van swings open, and Will stands there in the quiet twilight. Dark woods crouch at his back and I know he’s made certain we’re far from the stronghold. Wherever we are, we’re safe for now.

His gaze sweeps all of us before settling on me. The concern is there, shimmering in the hazel depths of his eyes. He undoubtedly heard my screams, but couldn’t stop until now.

“Are you okay?” Will asks.

I hold his gaze. “He’s gone. Cassian’s dead.” My voice chokes on the words, hating to say them. Especially in front of Tamra and Miram, but I can’t hide my knowledge from them forever.

Will is silent. His face reveals nothing. I catch a glimmer of something more in his eyes, but I’m not sure what it means.

Miram lets out a wail and falls into Tamra’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says.

I feel my face threaten to crumple and draw a deep breath, fighting back the burn of fresh tears. I don’t need another meltdown. But it’s horrible. Feeling this grief over Cassian, but unable to show it because I don’t want to be insensitive to Will—don’t want him to think I was in love with Cassian.

A moment of awkward silence passes, and he looks around us. “We need to drive a little more. I’m not comfortable stopping yet, but I wanted to check in on you all. A few more hours and we can eat and get some rest.”

He waits for a moment as if I’m going to respond to this. None of us speaks. The only sounds are Miram’s sobs. I don’t look at him again. I can’t. Not with these horrible feelings churning inside me. Instead, I give a sharp nod.

The doors slam shut. I listen to the crunch of his footsteps and the thud of the driver’s door. In moments, the van is rumbling all around us again and we’re moving on into the night.

“You did this, Jacinda,” Miram whispers heatedly, ignoring my sister shushing her. “You did this. Cassian is dead because of you.”

“And you had no part?” I bite out, hurting so much inside and unwilling to endure all the pain for this—all the blame. “Weren’t you the one who followed me and got us caught? Weren’t you the one who refused to escape with me when we first had a chance?”

She glares at me hatefully, and this almost makes her bland visiocrypter eyes look alive. Something else shines there, too—the awareness that I’m right. She can’t hide her guilt completely. And then I remember Cassian, and the love he felt for her. Knowing Miram will forever blame herself makes me feel worse. Even Tamra looks at me with such disappointment, and I feel awful.

Miram swipes at her nose with a sniff and fixes her gaze on the wall of the van.

Lia blows out a breath. “And I thought I had it bad with all the drama in my life.”

I look at Lia, this girl, this stranger. I don’t possess the energy to ask her about her life and where she comes from and what her drama could possibly be. Any other time I would have loved to meet a draki from another pride—to compare notes and find out if there was a better way of life outside my pride, away from Severin’s autocratic ways. But I can’t think about that now. Maybe later.

I lie on my side, slide my hand beneath my cheek, and stare blindly. Strange, I’ve left the enkros stronghold behind, the prison that almost broke me down, but I don’t feel as though I’ve escaped.

I still feel beaten, forever their prisoner.

9

W
e stop several hours later, pulling to the side of a small rural road.

We need to discuss our next steps. The plan was to split up at this point—Cassian and Miram returning to the pride while we go our own way. Clearly that’s changed now.

I can’t envision strolling back into the township. Especially now. Without Cassian. And yet Miram still needs to get home.

I swallow and close my eyes. A target will forever mark my back after the pride learns what happened to Cassian. Lifting my face to the night, I let a breeze caress my skin and know that they will never let me go, never stop hunting me. They’ll blame me for Cassian. Severin will never rest until I pay, until I’m back with the pride, a prisoner. He’ll send one of his strongest after me.
Corbin
. He might be Cassian’s cousin, but he doesn’t possess one ounce of his integrity. He’d show me no mercy.

“Jacinda.”

I jerk at the sound of my name. I’m the only one still inside the vehicle. Tamra stands outside the van, looking in at me, her expression tight with worry, her smooth brow wrinkled. Will is just beyond her, shifting his weight on both feet. I’ve never seen him like this—so uncertain at how to approach me.

Scooting out, I drop down on the ground and face him. The thought whispers across my mind that I should tell him none of this is his fault. I need to reassure him that I don’t blame him for making us leave Cassian. He deserves that. But I can’t look at him and say the words. No matter that my head tells me to utter them, my heart refuses. It’s too soon, my grief is too fresh and I can’t give voice to it. Instead, I walk past him.

I see Lia and Miram silhouetted in the distance, standing beside two electric lanterns. Several sleeping bags sit near them but they make no move to unfold them.

Will’s footsteps sound behind me. I sigh, knowing I can’t ignore him forever. I don’t
want
to ignore him. I want everything to be right between us again, but I’m not sure that will be possible just now. I can’t just stick my head in the sand and pretend that I’m okay. I might have chosen Will, but Cassian is—
was
—a part of me. And what does it mean for me and Will if I don’t feel free to express my grief?

I open my mouth to speak, still not sure what to say. Words die in my throat as I spot Lia beginning to strip off her clothes. Immediately, I understand. I know that she’s leaving us.

Miram, however, doesn’t have a clue. “What are you doing?” she demands, eyeing the girl like she’s lost her mind.

Lia shrugs one bone-thin shoulder as if it were obvious. “Going home.” Her blue-black eyes lock on mine. Kicking free of her too-big shorts, she folds her clothes into a tight bundle, tying the sleeves of her shirt together so nothing escapes, creating a sort of handle.

Facing me, she squares her shoulders. “Thank you. You saved my life. I’ll never forget that. Or you.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, worry for her knotting my chest. “Do you know how to—”

“I know my way home.”

Again, I try. She’s so young. It doesn’t feel right to let her go off alone. “But you can’t fly during the day. What will you—”

“I’ll lie low in daylight. It shouldn’t take me long to get home. A couple days. I’ll be fine.” She smiles confidently, and I realize she isn’t a child. Not anymore. Who could be after living as a captive of the enkros?

And I know she’ll be fine. She’s a water draki. She’ll never stray too far from a water source. It will offer her protection if she needs it. For a brief moment, I think to suggest she stay with us, but what can we offer her except risk and instability? She’s probably better anywhere else.

“Good-bye, Lia,” I say. “Take care.”

“Oh, I will. The rest of my life will be very dull, I promise you that.”

I smile a little. “That does sound like heaven.”

She surprises me with a quick hug before turning and walking a few steps, her human exterior melting away as she manifests into the deep blue of a water draki. Then she’s gone, springing up into the night. I watch the dark gleaming blue of her body until it’s indistinguishable against the night sky.

Watching her go is another weight, a bit more added grief, knowing that I’ll never see her again—never know for certain if she made it home and claimed that dull life for herself.

“C’mon, Miram,” Tamra says gently. “Let’s unroll these sleeping bags.” My sister glances at Will. “Got any food?”

He nods and turns back to the van.

The mention of food makes my stomach growl, but my weariness wins out. I move my heavy limbs. Dropping down, I unroll my sleeping blankets and slide inside, feeling the need to do something to get away … even if it’s pretend sleep. Facing Will right now, telling him what’s in my heart—or rather what’s not, what’s dead and lost—that’s simply too much.

Only I don’t end up pretending. The moment my head hits the ground exhaustion takes hold and I’m gone.

I wake abruptly, every nerve in my body wired tight. A strange sense of exhilaration hums through me. I sit up, the plastic-slick fabric of my sleeping bag sliding to my waist with a scratchy whisper.

I scan the area around me. Miram and Tamra sleep nearby. For a moment I admire the flow of my sister’s hair, a silvery waterfall spilling across the ground. I’ve gotten used to the sight of it. I no longer think of her as the
new
Tamra. She’s simply Tamra. My sister. A relieved breath shudders past my lips. At least I haven’t lost her.

And you still have Will
.

At this reminder, my gaze crawls, searching for him.

I find him. Watching me. He sits with his back to a tree, one leg bent so that his arm drapes over his knee. I can almost believe he’s been waiting for me to wake.

I sit up a little straighter. “Will.”

The soft sound of my voice jars in the dead quiet of the wood. I glance at the sleeping girls, worried I woke them. They don’t move.

“Why are you awake?” I ask.

“Just sitting over here thinking.”

I lick my lips. “About what?”

He stares at me for a long minute across the distance, his hazel eyes nothing more than two dark gleams. “About how you will always wonder if I wanted to leave him behind.”

My breath catches and it takes me a moment to respond. When I do, I’m glad at the steadiness of my voice. “Did you?” I ask, even though I don’t suspect for a moment that he did. That’s not Will.