The golden genesis crystal inlaid in my blackthorn wood ring pulses with a faint, warm rhythm against my skin. It is a physical reminder of the promise Kade made me last night, a quiet, steady heartbeat that grounds me in the present.
But the present is rapidly becoming a battlefield.
I stand in the center of the war room, my left hand resting on the cold steel of the holographic table. The nerve damage in my shoulder is a dull, manageable ache today, but the tension in my jaw is tight enough to snap. Kade stands to my right, his carbon-fiber cane resting against his hip, his green eyes locked onto the swirling red data streams projected above the table.
"They didn't send marines," I say, my physical voice tight. "I told them I'd cut the ley-lines if they sent marines. So they sent lawy
