The journey deeper into the Dead Zone was a masterclass in hostile silence.
Asher moved ahead with a frantic, twitchy pace. He wasn't scouting; he was fleeing a ghost that hadn't even shown its face yet. The physical "snap" of the bond's disconnect had left Ravenna feeling like she'd been tossed out of a moving car—bruised, rattling, and emotionally raw.
Emin stayed close. His heavy footsteps were a rhythmic thud of disapproval.
He hated the Rogue's instability, but he was a soldier—he knew you didn't throw away a specialist just because they were losing their mind.
Damaris, however, didn't deal in disapproval. He dealt in diagnostics.
"The Rogue's emotional state is a tactical liability," Damaris stated. He walked beside Ravenna, his voice low enough to avoid Asher's sharp ears.
"His fear is irrational. It originates from a past trauma, not the present threat. It's a bug in the code."
Ravenna felt the Warlock's focus through the bond. It was a cold, piercing laser. He was taking the problem apart in his head.
"He's afraid of being betrayed," Ravenna murmured. She watched Asher dart around a collapsed pillar. "He ran from your people and Emin's. He won't talk about it."
"Silence is inefficient when lives are at stake," Damaris retorted. "If this 'ghost' is an operative of Nyzor, we need the specs. I need to find the thread of that memory."
Then, the Warlock did something unprecedented.
He didn't ask. He didn't warn. He extended a thin, shimmering tendril of pure magical focus through the Mate Bond. He wasn't aiming for Asher's heart—he was hacking the Rogue's mental shields.
He used the bond like a back-door exploit.
Asher's instincts were faster. He stopped dead. He spun around with the speed of a striking viper, launching himself at Damaris in a silent, savage rush.
"Get out!" Asher hissed.
His eyes were burning with a mix of accusation and sheer, naked terror.
"Get your filthy magic out of my head!"
He slammed Damaris against a massive, broken stone tablet. The impact cracked the rock. The physical force was immense, but the true threat was the look in Asher's eyes. It was the frantic lashing out of a man who would rather die than be seen.
He'd rather burn the world down than let you look at his scars.
Damaris, caught off guard and pinned, reacted with a defensive reflex. A sudden, violent burst of kinetic force erupted from him, throwing Asher backward.
Asher hit the ground hard. He didn't stay down. He scrambled for a blade, his breath coming in jagged hitches.
Emin roared. His Lycan power surged, the air around him thickening with the scent of ozone and Alpha dominance. He moved to crush the fight before it started.
It was a disaster when their conflicting intentions met: Asher's terror, Damaris's prying, and Emin's dominance. The resulting conflict instantly triggered the most unstable part of Ravenna's power.
A violent surge of silver-black light exploded from her core.
"It's too much!" she gasped. "I'm breaking!"
The energy went straight back into the bond, forcing the physical fight to a halt. Ravenna's eyes went wide as her body began to convulse from the feedback. She hit the dirt, her lungs seizing.
"Ravenna!" Emin's voice was sharp with a sudden, agonizing guilt.
Damaris froze. He saw the result of his own arrogance. He knew the Hybrid was seconds away from a critical magical overload because he'd pushed his need for data too far.
He ignored the Alpha. He ignored the hostile Rogue. He rushed to Ravenna's side.
"The surge is folding inward!" Damaris yelled. He sounded desperate—a tone Ravenna had never heard from him. "I need to ground her! I have to send a counter-signal! Alpha, Rogue—hold your noise! Be still!"
He didn't wait. He grasped Ravenna's face in his pale, trembling hands.
It was the first time he had touched her outside of a laboratory setting. It wasn't clinical. It was vital.
Through the bond, Damaris focused every ounce of his Warlock mind. He wasn't analyzing her. He wasn't controlling her. He was transmitting a single, powerful command:
Focus on my voice. Focus on the cold. Anchor.
It was an imposition of will. Pure. Absolute. But for the first time, it wasn't for dominance. It was for rescue.
Ravenna felt the intrusion—the cold, sharp weight of his command. She usually hated his forced obedience, but right now, it was a lifeline in a storm.
He's not trying to own me, she realized through the haze. He's trying to keep me from shattering.
The chaos in her core was pinned down by the force of his intellect. The convulsions stopped. Her breathing slowed to match his.
Damaris held the focus for thirty agonizing seconds until the energy dissipated. When he finally let go, he was sweating heavily, his face a mask of exhaustion.
"I apologize, Hybrid," Damaris stated. His voice was tight. Robotic. "I violated your rules. The action was necessary to counteract the Rogue's hostility. You were... jeopardized."
Ravenna stared up at him. She could still feel the aftershock of his command: clean, cold, and absolutely necessary.
"You saved me," she whispered.
Damaris straightened his coat, rebuilding his wall of logic brick by brick.
"Yes. A stable asset is a functional asset. Now, move. Before the consequences of the Rogue's paranoia catch us."
Asher put his weapon away. He hadn't interfered with the rescue, but his face was a wreck of shame, terror, and a sudden, sharp spike of possessive anger aimed at Damaris.
He caused the fire. And he hates that the Warlock was the one to put it out.
"The cost of your fear is too high, Rogue," Emin said. His voice was low. Final. "You will tell us who is hunting you. Now."
Asher turned away. He pointed into the deep shadows where the drain tunnels waited.
"Alda is waiting," he said. His voice was a hollow shell. "The Dead Zone doesn't wait for your feelings."
The group moved forward. The unity was a lie, but the stakes were finally real.