The drive back to London should have been a victory lap. Helena was free, Victor's experiment was exposed, and they'd escaped Blackwood estate without casualties. But twenty minutes into the journey, everything started going wrong.
Helena's transformation had seemed stable in the ritual chamber. The silver threads in her eyes, the enhanced awareness, the connection to Elena's hidden memories—all of it had felt like a miracle. But now she was slumped in the backseat of their armored vehicle, her breathing becoming more labored with each passing mile.
"Pull over," Seraphina ordered Marcus, who was driving with the focused intensity of someone transporting critically wounded.
"Ma'am, we're still too close to—"
"I said pull over. Now."
They stopped at a service station on the M25, empty at this hour except for long-haul truckers grabbing coffee and convenience store sandwiches. Normal people living normal lives while supernatural crises played out in the shadows around them.
