Chapter 32 Leo
The door clicked shut behind me with a finality that echoed.
Safe house. Quiet. Empty. My boots landed heavy on the concrete as I walked across the single room, dropped my gear in a pile near the cot, and sat down without taking off my coat. The place smelled like cold metal and worn leather. The kind of stillness you only get when every living thing has left.
But she hadn’t left me. Not really. Not yet.
Kristen’s laugh still rang in my ears.
That moment in the woods was a mistake. I knew it. Knew it when I almost touched her wrist. Knew it when I leaned too close. I could smell her. Could see the faint shimmer of heat in her skin where the sunlight touched her shoulder. Every part of her had been warm and soft and inches away from mine.
If I had leaned just a little closer.
If I had kissed her.
If I had put one hand on the small of her back and the other between her legs—
I shut my eyes and gritted my teeth.
I’d almost done it. Almost let myself crack right there under the trees, alone with her in the filtered gold light and silence. She looked at me like she could handle it. Like she wanted it. But she didn’t understand what I was. What I was capable of doing to someone I let in.
And still. God, still.
I shifted on the edge of the bed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. My jeans were too tight now. Every breath pressed harder against the shape swelling behind my zipper.
I cursed low and palmed myself through the denim.
Even that made me flinch.
She wasn’t here. She didn’t even know what she had done to me. But my cock was already hard, pushing thick against my thigh, twitching with the memory of her lips parted in a question she hadn’t asked. She had leaned her head to the side when I said her name. She said it back like a secret.
I pressed down harder.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I knew that. But it only took a second to imagine her here instead. On this bed. On her back. Shirt twisted up under her arms. Panting into my mouth as I shoved my knee between her thighs and—
I stopped.
Let out a hard breath through my nose.
No.
I pulled my hand away, fingers clenched into a fist. My body ached with restraint, but I stood and walked to the far wall, letting the cool stone press against my temple.
Control.
Always control.
I rolled my shoulders. Let the tension burn itself down and out.
Because desire was dangerous. And distraction could get her killed.
I forced the thought into the front of my mind. Made myself feel it. The gargoyle was still out there. Free. Disguised. Wearing someone’s face. Maybe someone close to her already. That mattered more than the heat still pulsing through my blood.
I had to keep focus. Had to stay two steps ahead.
I opened the encrypted channel and sent a short message through the mirror relay. One code phrase. Edward would understand. He always did.
By dusk, I was back in the Dark Realm. The sky above bent the wrong way, fractured with distant red cracks. Trees leaned against invisible winds. The ground pulsed faintly beneath my boots like it remembered being alive.
Edward met me outside the ruins. His coat was long and dark, his gloves stitched with runes that shimmered faintly even in the dying light.
I didn’t waste time. I pulled the photo from my coat and handed it over.
Kristen was in the frame, caught mid-laugh. Her head was thrown back. Her eyes were closed. Unaware of me entirely. Standing next to her was a girl—short, light brown hair, sharp shoulders, confidence painted into her body language.
Edward studied it.
“Who’s the girl?”
“That’s what I need you to tell me.”
“Facial and sigil recognition?”
“Yes. Everything.”
He nodded, tucked the photo into the folds of his coat, and vanished through the veil without another word.
I stayed by the ruins. Let my thoughts scatter and return again, circling the same point.
Kristen had always seemed like the kind of girl who had too many people around her. Too trusting. Too open. If the gargoyle had already embedded itself in her life, it would pick someone like this—friendly, familiar, someone she wouldn’t question.
I hated that I couldn’t watch her myself.
But if I got too close again, I wouldn’t stop.
Edward returned half an hour later. His face told me the answer before his mouth did.
“She’s clean,” he said.
“Name?”
“Anna Winters. Ares-blood. Elemental class. Specialty in temperature manipulation—she can boil water or freeze it on touch. Been at Phoenix three years. No major infractions. Good grades. Minimal family ties. Quiet reputation.”
“Is she the gargoyle?”
He shook his head. “No. Not unless this thing’s evolved beyond recognition. Her aura’s stable. Soulprint matches. Voiceprint holds.”
“Then she’s nothing.”
“She’s Kristen’s roommate.”
I didn’t answer.
He waited a second, then added, “Want me to keep an eye on her anyway?”
“No. But keep watching the reports. News. Hospitals. Civilian obituaries. Anything that smells like a cover-up. Strange deaths. Missing persons. Psychic misfires. The gargoyle won’t stay in hiding forever. It’ll go somewhere crowded. Somewhere powerful.”
Edward’s brow furrowed faintly.
He asked the question slowly, carefully.
“Do you think it’s already at Phoenix?”
I didn’t answer right away.
I turned to face him. Watched the way his shoulders squared. He already knew what I was going to say.
My voice came low.
“Oh, I know it’s there.”
I exhaled, long and hard.
“That’s what fucking worries me.”