When fate and worlds collide

28 | Tower Assignments

A week slipped by faster than I liked, and the new group was finally cleared from quarantine. I spent most of that time helping assess their skills—sorting aptitude from wishful thinking—and assigning work that would keep them useful without getting them killed. Everyone was also placed into defense rotations. Mandatory. No exceptions. If our walls ever fell, I wasn’t about to have dead weight screaming for help.

I was halfway through listing names on the board when I felt it—that familiar presence threading through the room. When I turned, an unexpected smile tugged at my mouth. Jax stood there with his hands on his hips, wearing a grin wide enough to match mine.

“You’re a hard woman to talk to.”

I snorted. “I assume Xavier’s been giving you the runaround.”

“I was supposed to be assigned yesterday,” he replied. “I refused when I found out you’d be here today. Figured it was worth the wait.”

A bark of laughter escaped me. “I bet Xavier loved that.” I handed the marker to another worker and stepped around the table. “You sure you don’t want to be in his squad? I know he’s a cocky asshole, but he’s the best person to learn from.”

“I want to be in yours.”

I arched a brow. “I don’t have a squad. I’m barely allowed outside these walls.”

Jax glanced around, lowering his voice. “I heard something a little different.”

Ah. That.

My gaze flicked to Xavier across the room, laughing with another soldier, looking far too pleased with himself.

“It’s not known to the others for a reason, Jax,” I replied flatly.

He nodded. “Xavier said the same thing.” I motioned him toward the window, away from curious ears, and folded my arms over my chest.

“I don’t know what he told you, and frankly I don’t want to. But whatever you think this is, it’s not something you go chasing without a f*****g good reason. The people I train are ruthless because of what they’ve survived—and what they’ve lost. Plus, they’re Auras, Jax. They have power to back up their skills.” I paused, studying him. He was irritatingly bold, and persistent, I had to give him that. “You just got here,” I continued. “I don’t know how you operate, how you handle pressure, or whether you fold when things get ugly. You do have leadership instincts, though. That’s why I put you with Xavier.”

“I’ve seen you watching us,” he answered quietly. “I’d wager you already know exactly who everyone is.” My spine stiffened.

“With a group this large,” I replied evenly, “it’s my job to make sure no one slips through the cracks. I don’t need anyone jeopardizing my tower.”

His eyebrows lifted, catching the underlying tone. “Isn’t Liam in charge?” I sighed, irritation scraping my nerves.

“He is. But he didn’t build this place. And do you really think he could’ve done all this alone—without powers?” I gestured around us: the reinforced walls, the layered defenses, the controlled chaos masquerading as order.

“I thought he was an Aura?” My mouth snapped shut. Not many people knew the truth—that only First Gen Auras held real power. The rest carried diluted fragments, weaker echoes, with far less control. The strength holding this tower together belonged to a small, dangerous few. Myself. Xavier. Others like us.

I ignored the question entirely.

“The answer is no, Jax. You take Xavier’s team, or you get assigned somewhere else.” My voice cut cold, final. I didn’t wait for a response before turning on my heel and stalking straight toward the problem.

Xavier.

The moment he caught sight of my expression, a flicker of panic crossed his face—quickly replaced by something else I didn’t recognize.

“Before you rip my head off—”

“Are you f*****g stupid,” I snapped, “or are you actively trying to get people killed?” Liam’s attention snapped to me immediately through the link. Xavier’s eyes narrowed, jaw tightening.

“Neither,” he shot back. “The man’s taken a liking to you. I thought it might help improve your people skills.” I blinked. Xavier’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Clearly, that didn’t work.” he muttered.

“I kept the Elite quiet for a reason, Xav,” I replied sharply, already turning away. “I don’t need people volunteering for a team they aren’t prepared for—or capable of surviving.”

“What about his daughter?” I stopped dead. Slowly, I turned back. For one fragile second, I prayed he meant training her as an Aura—and not something far worse. The fear flickering across his face told me hew realized his mistake before he spoke again. “Are you…” He swallowed, choosing his words with care. “Are you going to train her as an Aura?” I scanned the room. The way conversations lagged. The way bodies leaned just a little too close. Everyone pretending not to listen.

My gaze snapped back to Xavier, dark and warning. I turned and walked away without answering. Silence, sometimes, was the sharpest blade I owned.

~*~

The balcony doors stood open, letting the cool night air drift through the apartment. Rowan was half-asleep beside me on the lounge, his head heavy against my shoulder, one arm slung possessively around my waist. Since my return, he’d barely let me out of his sight. I didn’t blame him—and I certainly didn’t complain. Lately, time together felt like a stolen luxury, something fragile we had to guard. Eventually, through teasing and gentle prodding, I coaxed the name of his crush out of him; Amelia.

The name settled in my chest with a familiar ache. She was one of the first children I’d pulled from the rubble in the early days, the girl who watched both her parents die in front of her, ripped apart by ferals. Rowan had checked on her every day for a month straight until she finally spoke again. After that, they’d been inseparable. Of course it was her. If anything, I would’ve been disappointed if it wasn’t.

He told me, too, about wanting a greater role with the council. Leaving the Tower was non-negotiable—for him and for me, mostly—but he wanted to help however he could. My heart swelled at the quiet determination in his voice. Lately, he’d been assisting with training new survivors and emerging Auras, and being one of my best students, he taught them well. Fourteen and already carrying himself like a man grown. The familiar sting of guilt followed—wishing I’d been able to give him more of a childhood, fewer responsibilities carved from blood and necessity.

When we finally spoke about the truth surrounding one of the survivors, I’d braced for fury. For bitterness. I saw both flicker behind his eyes—but Rowan only nodded. He needed time. I understood that better than anyone. We hadn’t spoken about it again since. It had been more than a week now, and he hadn’t even asked to see him either.

A bang on the door shattered the calm.

Shouting followed—angry, insistent, and far too familiar. Carefully, I shifted Rowan’s weight and eased to my feet, making sure he didn’t wake. After everything with Xavier and Jax, I’d retreated here on purpose. This was my refuge. Rowan was my priority. Another bang hit the door just as I yanked it open, the curse already on my tongue dying instantly.

“What the f**k do you think you’re doing?” I snapped quietly.

“I came to—”

“I already told you,” I cut in coldly, stepping forward, “he’ll find you if he wants to see you. I told him you were here. That’s as far as I go.”

“Bullshit,” Glen snarled. “I doubt you even told him.” I took one deliberate step closer, satisfaction blooming as fear flickered across his face.

“I won’t tolerate your insults, Glen,” I growled quietly, dangerously, “or your attempts to control or manipulate me—or my son—ever again. Don’t test me. I’m not the woman you broke.” Movement behind me. A single word dropped. Soft. Uncertain. The world tilted my world sideways—and every instinct I had snapped to attention.

“Dad?” I half-turned toward Rowan, already bracing myself. I’d hoped—foolishly—that this wouldn’t spiral into violence, but men like Glen didn’t change. They just found new ways to disappoint. Rowan’s gaze met mine, panic and uncertainty swirling in the ocean blue of his eyes. I gave him a small, steady smile; whatever he chose, I would stand behind him. Glen, meanwhile, looked like a man struck dumb—mouth opening and closing as he struggled to remember how breathing worked.

“Rowan?” He took a step forward. Rowan, however, lifted a hand at once, palm out.

“I think you should leave.” He replied quickly, voice calm. Cold. Final. The air left my lungs in a rush. I’d expected hesitation. Questions. Maybe even an attempt at conversation.

Not…this. I didn’t want to admit it, but a small part of me rejoiced. I kept that feeling locked away from the pack link.

“What? But, Row—”

“I said…I think you should leave. Glen.” Rowan turned his back on him and walked toward the lounge. I moved to close the door, but Glen shoved past me. I staggered sideways, catching myself just in time as he stormed after Rowan, ignoring my shout to stop.

“What the f**k did your mother tell you?” Glen snapped. “What kind of s**t has she filled your head with?” I closed my eyes for half a second, already knowing what was about to break. “She’s told you nothing but lies—” Rowan spun around. The movement was sharp, sudden, and dangerous. He marched back toward his father, eyes blazing with a fury I had never seen in him before. Disgust, disappointment, and something heartbreakingly close to shame rippled through the pack link, burning behind his eyes.