Chapter 90 90

Chapter 90 Part 2-Chapter 7
The drive back felt longer than the one that brought us to Vargas’s door. Maybe because neither of us spoke for the first ten minutes. Maybe because the weight in my chest didn’t feel like fear anymore. It felt like someone had nudged the world a few degrees off its axis and expected me to keep walking straight.

Raines kept both hands on the wheel, jaw set tight, eyes locked on the road. Her silence wasn’t calm. It was the kind that held back curses, panic, and the urge to turn the car around and strangle Vargas with one of his linen shirts.

The sky outside was low and gray. Seattle looked washed out, drained, like the city itself was tired of holding secrets bigger than its skyline.

I stared out the passenger window, fingers pressed lightly against my ribs, waiting for that faint tug. That quiet echo in my chest that always let me know Cyne was out there somewhere. 
There was nothing. That thin thread that had stretched between us for three weeks, no matter how faint or frayed, was gone.

Raines noticed me go still. She flicked a quick glance my way. “Talk to me.”

I swallowed. “He’s quiet.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Quiet, as in quiet how?”

I shook my head. “Silent.”

Her grip tightened on the wheel. “Define silent.”

“I can’t feel him,” I whispered.

The tires hummed over wet asphalt. The wipers dragged across the windshield with a sharp scrape that made me flinch.

Raines kept driving. “Maybe that’s normal. Maybe he’s unconscious. Maybe whatever psychic-connection thing you two have takes breaks.”

“It doesn’t,” I said softly.

She thumped her hand against the steering wheel. “Then what the hell happened between Vargas’s place and now?”

I stared at my hands. “Maybe talking about lineage. About the ritual. About me. Maybe it triggered something.”

Raines exhaled. “Okay. Stop. Let’s not go nuclear yet. We barely understand what Vargas said, and I still think half of it was bullshit.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t.”

She glanced at me. “You believe him?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

She swore under her breath. “I hate this. Why couldn’t you be important in a normal way? Like inheriting money or winning awards?”

A ghost of a smile crossed my lips.

“So this lineage thing,” she continued. “You really buying that? You think you’re supposed to kick off some ancient ritual that’s been waiting around for centuries?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “But they believe it.”

“And Cyne?” she asked. “You think he knew?”

My throat tightened. “He drew that woman. He carried the pendant design before anyone came after me. He knew something.”

She thought over my words, then, “But he never said anything.”

“No,” I agreed.

The betrayal wasn’t sharp anymore. It was dull. Heavy. Like bruised bone. I understood him well enough to know he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was trying to shield me. But secrets always had weight. Even the ones kept with good intentions.

Raines slowed as traffic backed up along the waterfront. “Okay. Let’s think. Why would Cyne go silent?”

I forced myself to breathe. “One,” I said. “He’s unconscious.”

Raines nodded. “Possible.”

“Two,” I continued, “he’s somewhere warded.”

She grimaced. “Love that.”

“Three. They forced him into something,” I finished.

She hesitated. “Like ritual prep?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Or four,” she said slowly, “he’s doing it on purpose.”

My stomach clenched. “Why would he?”

“To protect you,” she said gently. “If whatever you’re connected by can be traced…”

“That’s not how it works,” I argued.

“Do you know that for sure?” she questioned.

I didn’t. That was the problem.

The tether had always felt natural. Instinctive. Like breathing. I’d never questioned it. Now it was gone, and the absence felt loud.

Raines turned down a side street. “We’ll figure it out. But I need you with me. Not disappearing into your head.”

“I’m here,” I murmured. “Just…processing.”

We passed an old mural of a lighthouse near the pier. Cyne had once stopped in front of it without explanation, staring like it meant something. I’d never asked. I wished I had.

“We’re going to bring him home,” Raines said matter of fact.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what home meant for Cyne. He’d always lived half in this world and half in something older. But I needed him here. In this city. In his cluttered office with terrible lighting and mismatched mugs.

I pressed my palm to my chest again. Nothing.

A hollow ache spread through me. Not grief. Not yet. Recognition. The kind you feel when the air changes right before lightning strikes.

Raines pulled into the parking spot behind the office and cut the engine. “Say it.”

“Say what?” I asked.

“Whatever’s clawing at you,” she stated.

I stared at the building. “I think losing the connection isn’t distance,” I whispered. “It’s deliberate.”

She nodded. “His choice or theirs?”

“I don’t know,” I murmured thoughtfully.

Raines rested her forehead briefly against the steering wheel. “If Cyne cut you off, it wasn’t to hurt you.”

“I know,” I told her.

“He’s trying to keep you out of something,” she declared.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Are you going to stay out of it?” she asked.

I shook my head.

She laughed, sharp and humorless. “Good. Because we’re out of other options.”

I stepped out into the cold. The city felt heavier. Wrong. Too quiet.

“So what now?” Raines asked.

I looked up at the low clouds, the dull sun behind them. “Now we stop waiting for the next warning.”

She nodded. “And start hunting.”

I nodded. “Yes.”

I headed toward the office door with a cold certainty settling into my bones. Cyne had gone silent, and silence meant something had changed. And I was starting to believe it was because something had begun.

Minutes later, as we stepped into the office, it didn’t feel like the office…it felt like the ghost of a place I used to know. Too quiet. Too still. The old floorboards creaked under my boots in a way that made my shoulders tense, like the building itself was trying to tell me to tread softer. Or maybe it just missed him too.

Raines tossed her jacket over the nearest chair and collapsed into another, stretching her legs out and rubbing her eyes with both hands. “Five minutes,” she muttered. “Just five minutes before we start tearing into whatever comes next.”

“Yeah,” I said, but my body moved on its own. Straight toward Cyne’s desk.
The faint pull in my chest that had guided me for weeks wasn’t there. No small echo. No whisper under my ribs. Nothing at all. That emptiness felt louder than any sound in the room.