The ride back to base was quiet except for the rumble of Alex's reinforced motorcycle and the occasional whimper from Bram, who clung to Mateo's back like a frightened animal. Dong had coiled around the boy's shoulders, his serpentine form providing what little comfort a chimera could offer. The streets of Ashdrift blurred past them—empty windows staring down like hollow eyes, debris scattered across cracked asphalt, and the ever-present smell of smoke and decay that had become the town's signature.
Mateo felt different. Lighter, somehow, despite everything that had happened. The weight of Alec's ghost was gone, but in its place sat something heavier and more real: responsibility. Not the bitter, self-destructive kind that had driven him to hunt villains like a rabid dog, but the quiet, steady kind that Alex had been trying to beat into him with her fists.
He wanted to be a hero who cared.
