A crackling hum came from twin monoliths. They were obelisk in shape and a mottled bottle green. A magical barrier to keep anyone from swifting in. Or swifting out.

My heart ricocheted in my throat as we faced those monoliths and the additional security measures that stood between me and freedom—the massive steel gates; the 15-foot wall threaded with adamere that surrounded our estate, and the secondary electrified fence that was infused with magic. There were guards on duty too. All of them were dressed in crisp, black uniforms, and strapped with guns and swords.

One of the guards headed for us as soon as he spotted who sat beside Graysen in his car.

Graysen rested an elbow casually on the curve of his open window and revved the engine, hard and loud. The guard stiffened and I saw the hesitation in his pace. No one liked facing a pissed-off Crowther, especially this one. Graysen slammed the heel of his hand against the horn, long and furious, revving the engine again, and his foul curse floated in the air.

The guard pulled to a stop and turned, waving his hand at his companion. Several jarring noises rattled loudly as the heavy locks unlinked the twin gates, and they rolled slowly apart. Though I was sure the guard's decision to release us had more to do with the long line of shiny black SUVs suddenly arriving behind us than going against my father and allowing me to leave.

My father had been utterly outraged when Graysen informed him he was taking me out for the day. I'd been left in the car which idled right beside the grand marble steps leading up to the front entrance of our mansion. Graysen and my father stood on the terrace, facing off against one another and he'd refused to let my father speak with me. I hunkered down low, keeping my gaze straight ahead, fixed on the neatly trimmed boxwood hedging the circular pebbled driveway, trying to block out my father's fury. But I'd snatched glances from the corner of my eye. My father argued, his cheeks burning red. No one questioned him or went against his orders. Only Graysen rebelled against him, and now I discovered his leverage over my father was me and the Alverac.

Graysen finally ended the argument by simply walking away. He sauntered down the marble steps whistling a jaunty tune. He really enjoyed winding my father up. But neither of us had a choice when my father quickly barked instructions at his men to follow us.

Oh well. I might be shadowed by a vanguard of bodyguards, but at least my one day of freedom was my own. Graysen had given me full authority to dictate how we were to spend our day in the city.

In front of us, the metal gates opened.

My fingers bunched nervously into my skirt. After hiking back to the mansion after our swim, we'd dressed for our day out. I wore a loose silk-crushed shift, the color of pewter, and tied my hair up into a ponytail. Graysen hadn't mentioned anything about my bare feet. No scathing remark to find shoes. He'd changed into a new pair of jeans, a fresh black t-shirt, and twin daggers buckled to the outside of his calf-high boots.

We rolled through the parted gates, the purr of the engine mirroring the excitement of the creature rumbling in my chest. Graysen flicked through his music and settled on a song—Kavinsky's 'Night Call'. Sage lay in the back. My wraith-wolf was so big he took up the entire backseat. His ears pricked forward as the synthwave beat filled the interior of the vehicle.

I jittered my bare feet in excitement. Twisting around I looked through the rear windshield, staring in disbelief as the gates receded behind us with our building speed.

The other side of the estate pretty much looked exactly like the winding driveway we'd just left behind—except it carved through the tall gloomy forest—long and straight and littered with dead leaves. We had a cascade of my father's bodyguards right behind us, but I was leaving the estate!

Sunrays poked between the heavy canopy of the forest. "Ready?" Graysen asked, the dim sunlight glinting off the wayfarer sunglasses shielding his dark eyes. He cocked a curious eyebrow, his gaze sliding down my figure to ensure my seat belt was secure. "Want to lose these shadows?"

I nodded with a stupid grin on my face. That grin wasn't going to shift anytime soon.

Graysen put his foot down on the accelerator and the engine's response was a thunderous roar. The sudden surge forward of the Mustang pushed me back into my seat. "Holy fuck, Crowther," I gasped, leaning over and squinting at the dashboard as he shifted gears rapidly, pushing the car faster. My eyes rounded.

"Yeah, 150 miles per hour, not fast enough, right?" he grinned, and then he pressed his booted foot right down. The gnarled forest became a blur of murky green. In our furious wake, leaves eddied in whirls in rusty reds. My father's men, following in their SUVs, dropped away, unable to keep up with the ridiculous speed of Graysen's car. It was a freaking Mad Max car. A dashboard like a cockpit. Matte black and apocalyptic looking with its supercharger and additional funnels. A typical Crowther toy.

I started laughing. My fingers latched onto the curve of the seat beneath me and I felt the raw vibration of the engine beneath my grip. It was thrilling, exhilarating. Every nerve ending in my body hummed. I felt alive. I felt free!

We carried on at that speed for another twenty minutes, cutting through the forest roads before joining the highway to fly past trucks and cars. My heart thundered in my chest and sometimes I squeezed my eyes shut as Graysen nimbly eased us through narrow gaps between passing vehicles when the traffic grew thicker. As we chewed up the distance between the estate and the city of Ascendria a feeling of unease began to press itself on me. I worried at the inside of my cheek with my teeth before turning to face him. "Won't they just find us again?" My phone had a locater and surely his car did too. Maybe I should have left my phone at home.

He snapped his fingers. "Cell." Then, with sharp reflexes, he darted the Mustang between two milk tankers just as an oncoming truck blared its horn.

Unlocking my cell phone, I passed it to him. He slid his phone out of his jeans pocket and then rested his hands on top of the steering wheel. He opened up an app, sent a file to my phone, and in a series of rapid taps he installed it on mine and set it into action.

"Now you're untraceable," he said, tossing my phone into my lap.

"Your car?"

His forefinger rapped a beat on the steering wheel as he tilted his head down, hair in artful disarray, to give me an appalled look over the rim of his wayfarers. "What kind of amateur do you think I am?"

Yet, as he settled back into his seat, shifting gear and shooting us past the milk tanker, he hissed between clenched teeth. Leaning forward, he punched a code into a system lit up with glowing buttons. His shoulder shifted slightly as he shot a sharp sideways glare my way.

I kept my eyes on the road ahead, not bothering to curb the amused twitch of my mouth. "Yeah, like I thought."

As I glanced over at him, it occurred to me that he was stuck in this car with me. If I wanted to ask questions, now was the time. Maybe he'd answer me about Ferne. About who'd stolen her eyes all those years ago. Maybe he'd tell me about his brothers, his father, his aunt. Or why nobody talked about their mother, Tabitha Crowther.

He caught me parting my mouth to ask and quickly snapped, "No."

"But I—"

"I can see your brilliant little mind turning over. No."

He dropped the speed back so we were still traveling fast, but not at a ridiculous pace. He pushed a button and my window rolled down and the rush of wind teased my ponytail. "Go on, just lean out and relax, will you?" he growled.

I glanced at him like he was completely mad. But I'd seen kids do that my whole life on TV and in films—hanging their heads out of car windows, letting their hair flail and tug in the fierce wind. They always looked like they were having so much fun.

He reached over and pulled my hair free of the ponytail. The long pale locks fluttered across my shoulders and down my back. "It's better like that."

I gave him a dubious look, but I reached a hand out the window and felt the air buffeting my fingers. Freedom, that's what it felt like. I shot a grin back at Graysen. And his smile was just as wide as mine.

Then I stuck my head out. The wind caught my hair immediately, snapping the locks in the current of moving air. The roaring noise of the streaming wind filled my ears and drowned out everything else—the car's engine, Graysen, and the pulsing music. I crossed my arms and rested my chin there, enjoying the feel of my hair sliding across my face and the wind against my cheek. I was in a small private world, just me and the strange white noise and the sight of the countryside rolling past. The feel of cool rushing air, the smell of grass and turned earth, the warmth from the sun. I closed my eyes and just basked in my senses, pushing aside the dark guilty thoughts that frayed the edges of my mind at what I was going to get up to once we arrived in Ascendria.

***

The subway. Fuck me. Out of everything Ascendria had to offer, Wychthorn wanted to ride the subway.

From the images she'd tacked onto the walls in her quarters, I figured she'd want to scout out all those urban gardens growing in cracked concrete. Maybe drift between food hawkers while she tasted their offerings. Perhaps watch someone get inked and pierced or find a dive bar to while away her afternoon before investigating the darker side of Ascendria—the rabbit-warren streets, the graffiti and crumpling brickwork and smashed windows. Immerse herself within the broken souls of the city.

I knew she wouldn't be interested in anything that Danne Pelan would want to show her.

He knew nothing of worth about her. Nothing.

He'd show her the glamour of Ascendria. The city that many Horned Gods played within which was often the hunting ground of the Houses.

Cocktail bars. High-rises and lush green parks. The Monarch Tower, thrumming with tourists, so she could take in the city's skyline overlooking the great glassy lake. He'd give her a tour of the streets on the plush warmed seat of his limousine, creating a barrier between her and the city, within its safe padded shell and bulletproof glass. He'd probably take her on a stroll down Park Avenue with all the boutique shops selling designer dresses and jewelry. Or take her to that stupid jazz bar he'd spoken of earlier today.

But Wychthorn wanted the real Ascendria. The raw real side, dirty and dangerous, where our mortal drug dealers hustled on dingy street corners.

But the subway? I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.

Her eyes shone with glee as she dropped coins to collect her subway ticket.

She smiled at everyone she met and said hello in passing, seemingly oblivious to the wary looks they shot her like they suspected she was high on crack. Sage prowled beside her, unseen yet felt by the mortals. His wraith presence caused goosebumps to flourish on their skin and sent shivers running down their spines as his shadowed form rippled through their bodies.

Wychthorn bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, jittering with excitement, shooting me crooked grins, and erupting into stupid giggling, a drunk-on-life kind of laughter.

She was glowing, as fucked up as that sounded. My little bird glowed.

Her scowls made her beautiful. This, though—the simplicity in her excitement—she was breathtaking. I couldn't look away. I wanted to look away. Fuck, I need to look away.

I realized, then, that while she was just beginning to thaw toward me, I was already fucked. Fuck...I was so fucked. She'd melted right through the wall of ice I'd built to keep her out. But today...today, I'd promised myself to put aside who we were to one another. Forget I was a Crowther and she was a Wychthorn and let her have one day of freedom before I clipped her wings forever.

Just be a guy taking a girl on a day date.

Fuuuck...

How sappy was that?

I followed as she swiped her ticket and pushed through the metal turnstile with an overly stuffed tote bag hanging from a slender shoulder, and watched as she carefully lined her toes right at the tip of the yellow line, leaning forward to peer down dark tunnels, waiting impatiently for the first train. She gripped my arm tightly when the rumbling train arrived, metal screeching and grinding as it slowly ground to a halt, its doors whooshing open right in front of us. Stepping on board, we moved from seat to pole to the window and back to the seat again; drifting through the carriages as we were swept through the dark underground tunnels; to come to a halt at a new station. Stepping off the train onto a new platform we'd find another train to whisk us away in another direction.

And that's what we'd been doing for the last few hours.

There was no rhyme to where she decided to go. We got off only to get on and head back the way we'd come. Follow the lines to the end and back again. Head west then south, and cut back on an eastern line. It got to a point where even I didn't know where the fuck where we were.

I should have known.

I should have fucking known then that she'd been playing me.

One moment she was there, and I'd glanced away.

The next—

She was gone.

***

It wasn't that easy slipping away from Graysen. Especially when he kept crowding me up against the wall in the carriages when they grew thick with passengers, making sure no one could touch me.

He had no idea what I was up to.

Just a silly girl. A ride on a subway. A childish fantasy fulfilled.

Except the subway was above the catacombs that lay buried and forgotten by the world.

All it took was one brief moment of distraction to move between carriages, grab hold of Sage, and then swift.

It was easy to find the maintenance service door in the tunnels with the fizzing, dim light overhead and the steps leading down, down, down. Finding the ancient door that opened up to the catacombs was even easier. However, what was hard was pushing that door open and stepping into absolute darkness.

My fear of the dark almost paralyzed me. Almost.

But I'd come prepared.

I couldn't cloak myself in a pitch-black blanket, not since I was seven years old. Flicking on the flashlight I'd brought, I had a backup hooked around my wrist. With the string of fairy lights wound around my neck and shoulders, I glowed otherworldly in the musty, dank tunnels.

And yet, illuminated within the light, I still found myself struggling for breath, my hands trembling too.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this—

Pushing aside the panic, placing one foot in front of the other—that's all I needed to do. Just concentrate on moving forward.

Sage was alert, his fur hackled and his tail snapped straight. He padded silently behind me as I fiddled with my adamere beads, drawing strength from my mantra—My roots are deep, my strength is stone, my breath the wind. I bow to none. I had to do this. This was the only chance I'd ever get.

If I'd gone with Danne to Ascendria he'd have filled my day with tourist attractions. Not at all what I wanted to revel in.

And yet without Graysen even knowing it, he'd given me exactly what I needed.

Something I had planned for many years.

A chance to meet a monster.