OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: OF FURY, SACRIFICE, AND THE BROKEN CROWN

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: OF FURY, SACRIFICE, AND THE BROKEN CROWN

Riyee's POV

ECLIPSA SANCTUM - THE SIGIL HEART HALL | 23:00

The war hall was too big. Too silent. It wasn't just quiet—it was waiting. Waiting for me to explode, waiting for my fury to find its mark. Screens flickered with post-mission data, the hum of lights slicing through the tension. Every sound felt too close, every heartbeat a hammer against my ribs.

We were supposed to debrief the breaches—school, Home for Angels. We'd saved the school. We'd saved KD. But my mom... my mom hadn't been saved. Not by them. Not by Lyle. That thought—hot, sharp—curdled in my chest.

The Tri-Sigil was back—Lyle, Keryn and Seb. And the first thing I did? I slapped Lyle—hard.

No one moved. Xythe, Saichel, Alexie, Tofer, Thres... all of them stood frozen, silent as statues. Their presence pressed against me like invisible walls, suffocating, watching, waiting. I could feel Xythe's storm beneath the calm, Saichel's quiet menace simmering, Thres's protective rigidity holding everything in check. Alexie and Tofer were calm—but their eyes didn't miss a twitch, a tremor, a second of hesitation. It was a cage made of living shadows.

My hand itched for more. One slap barely scraped the surface. Two. Three. A dozen. Lyle's calm didn't shatter—but there was a flicker. A tiny quiver in his jaw, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He felt it. That flicker made my blood boil hotter.

"You let them capture her," I hissed, teeth clenched so tight I thought they'd crack. "Do you even... hear yourself? Do you... have any idea... what have you done?"

Ice in his veins. Control straining at the edges. The Crown mask was there, but it was cracking. Tonight, Lyle wasn't the Strategist King. He was my cousin, the one who had promised to protect me, and he had failed.

I didn't back down. I didn't blink. I let the words tear out, raw and jagged:

"You let them take my mom," I spat. "You let your aunt... be captured!"

His eyes narrowed—not with anger, but with calculation. He opened his mouth, probably to explain, but I cut him off before he could.

"First, you didn't tell me what was happening at the Home for Angels! You moved without telling me my mom, the kids, everyone... was in danger! And now you're telling me... she was captured?!" My voice cracked on the last word, whipping through the hall.

"You think I didn't try?" he said finally, clipped, precise. "You think I wanted this?"

I slapped him again. Harder. My palm throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the fire clawing at my chest. Every ounce of fear, every shred of terror—he needed to feel it. But he was still family. That thought twisted in me, sharp as a blade, as my hands shook—not with rage, but with horror.

"Ari..." Keryn stepped forward, careful, soft, like she was tiptoeing through the storm I'd become. I recoiled, raising a wall of rage between us.

"No. Don't." My chest rose and fell rapidly, my words stumbling out. "You... you were supposed to protect her. But you... all of you... let her get captured."

Seb exhaled, slow, measured, like bracing himself to walk into fire. "We didn't let her get captured, Ari. She..." His jaw clenched, silver eyes flickering in the holotable's glow. He faltered, and that pause stabbed deeper than any blow. "...she chose it."

My blood froze. "What?"

"She surrendered herself," Seb said, voice steady but heavy, carrying the weight of a truth too sharp to soften. "For the kids. For you. For Lyle." His gaze met mine, silver and piercing, but under it—buried—was a crack I could feel. "Because if she didn't... they would have come after all of you."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. The words dug in like shards of glass.

My mom hadn't been taken. She'd given herself up.

The silence that followed crushed the hall. No one moved. Not Keryn. Not Seb. Not me.

Lyle didn't say a word. But I could feel him there, tense and rigid, every inch of him coiled with a storm he refused to unleash. His jaw was tight, hands unclenched but trembling beneath the suit's fabric, eyes dark and unreadable. He looked... broken. Not the calm, untouchable strategist I knew—but something human, exposed, hiding behind a mask of control.

Even the holotable's blue flickers felt too loud, pulsing against the walls like a heartbeat I wanted to rip out.

I let out a sharp, ragged sigh, the kind that trembles with all the fury and fear I've been holding in, the kind that tastes like heartbreak and fire all at once.

"I'm going out," I snapped, each word slicing through the quiet like a blade.

Xythe's brow furrowed, his voice low and deliberate, each word measured as though weighing a strategy. "Ari... where are you going? It's past eleven."

"I need air. I need to breathe," My words came out sharp and uneven, my eyes piercing all eight of them "No one follows me."

I didn't wait for their protests. I turned, and left—war hall, dorm, everything behind me.

It was past curfew, but Supreme Allievo Academy's rules didn't apply to us. The security staff glanced at me as I passed, but they didn't intervene. Some of them knew, some had already been helped by the Court.

That's the Sovereign-Ardent Alliance Program for the Court. Most of the time, we were students by day. At night... we weren't.

I climbed to the Arcanum House rooftop. The wind hit like a blade, sharp and biting, slicing through my jacket and straight into my chest. The stars above looked close enough to touch, but they were frozen—distant, indifferent, watching me unravel.

The rooftop hit me like a blade. Wind tore through my hair, slashing my jacket, biting at my skin until I felt like I was splitting apart. Stars hung above, cold and indifferent, their distance mocking everything I felt. Below, the city blinked weakly, swallowed in shadows—their warmth unreachable.

I pressed my palms against the railing, gripping as though I could anchor myself to something solid. My chest burned—sharp, tight—and my mind spun around my mother's choice. She hadn't been taken. She had walked willingly into the Pact's hands. For me. Every thought, every breath, every heartbeat screamed guilt. My fingers throbbed from hitting Lyle, but I wished the pain were sharper, enough to drown out the gnawing terror clawing through me.

I tried to inhale, tried to taste the cold night air, but it was heavy, thick with grief. I imagined her walking into that storm, calm, resolute, carrying every one of my fears on her shoulders. The thought stabbed harder than any blade.

A shift behind me. Soft. Almost imperceptible. My muscles tensed instinctively, coiling. Slowly, I turned my head, every nerve screaming.

Before I could react, something soft—but chemical—pressed against my nose. My arms were grabbed, pinned tightly to my sides. Panic clawed at my chest. Vision blurred. The wind whipping past me faded into a haze.

"No—" My scream cut off before it left my throat. The wind vanished. Stars spun. City lights blurred. The world tilted, violently unsteady. Darkness clawed at my vision, swallowing everything.

And then the weight of the stranger pressed against me—cold, immovable. Not a question, not a warning. Just control. Complete, suffocating control.

I tried to fight, to move, to breathe, but my body refused. The rooftop, the wind, the night—all of it spun into a haze, leaving only one undeniable truth: I was no longer in command.

Somewhere deep in me, a spark flickered—rage, defiance, survival—but even that was a whisper beneath the cold certainty pressing me down.

And then... nothing.