The morning after the Genesis Integration Summit, the Blackthorn Academy feels less like a military fortress and more like a fragile, blooming garden.
I wake before dawn, the crisp Pacific Northwest air seeping through the cracked window of our suite. My left shoulder throbs with a dull, rhythmic ache, the nerve damage from the Mariana Trench frostbite flaring in the cold. My ribs, finally healing from the lunar mission, protest every deep breath. But the physical pain is entirely eclipsed by the profound, heavy pressure of the day.
Beside me, Kade is still asleep. He is on his back, his right arm draped heavily over my waist, his face relaxed in deep sleep. The harsh, silver-rimmed tension that used to define his features is entirely gone, replaced by the soft, vulnerable lines of a man
