The old Council chambers rose from the mountainside like a cancer, all black stone and twisted spires that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Even from two miles away, I could feel the malevolent energy radiating from the fortress—centuries of pain, control, and broken spirits soaked into its very foundation.

"She's in there," I whispered, Aurora's terror a constant pulse through our blood bond. "Third floor, eastern tower. She's scared but she's fighting."

"Fighting?" Maverick asked, adjusting his grip on the wickedly curved blade he'd strapped to his back. "She's eight weeks old, Maggie."

"She's refusing to eat. Refusing to sleep. She knows something's wrong and she's making herself as difficult as possible." Despite everything, I felt a fierce surge of pride. "That's my girl."

Mason crouched beside us on the rocky outcropping that gave us our best view of the fortress. His face was drawn tight with concentration and guilt that radiated off him in waves. "Chizzy's expecting me in ten minutes. Once I'm inside, you'll have maybe twenty minutes before she realizes I'm not reporting back like a good little spy."

"Twenty minutes to get through defenses that have held for three hundred years," Maverick muttered. "No pressure."

"The defenses are keyed to recognize threat levels," Mason said. "They'll see me as expected and non-hostile. You two... they'll throw everything they have at you the moment you set foot on the grounds."

Through the bond, Aurora's distress spiked suddenly—not fear this time, but physical discomfort. Hunger. She hadn't eaten in hours, and her tiny body was starting to feel the effects.

"We need to move," I said, my voice tight with urgency. "Now."

"Maggie, wait—"

"She's starving, Maverick. They took her in the middle of the night without any of her things, without formula, without anything she needs." My hands clenched into fists. "Every minute we wait is another minute she suffers."

"And if we go in unprepared, every minute we wait might be the last minute she has," he countered. "I know it's killing you. I can feel it through our bond too. But we get one shot at this."

He was right and I hated him for it. Every instinct I had screamed at me to charge the fortress, to tear it apart stone by stone until I found my daughter. But Aurora needed her parents to be smart, not just desperate.

"The plan," I said through gritted teeth.

Mason pulled a rough sketch from his jacket—floor plans he'd memorized during his years working with various Council factions. "Main entrance has at least twelve guards plus automatic defenses. Side entrances are sealed with blood locks. The only way in without triggering every alarm they have is through the old aqueduct system."

"Sewers," Maverick translated. "We're breaking into an impregnable fortress through the sewers."

"Ancient magical sewers that run with water enchanted to dissolve flesh on contact," Mason corrected helpfully. "But yes, essentially sewers."

"And once we're inside?"

"I create a distraction. Something big enough to draw the guards away from the eastern tower. You two get to Aurora and get out."

"What kind of distraction?" I asked, though I was pretty sure I didn't want to know the answer.

Mason's smile was grim and humorless. "The kind that ensures I don't walk out of there alive."

"Mason—"

"No." His voice cut through my protest with surprising firmness. "This is my fault. My choices, my cowardice, my desperate need to always have an escape plan. That baby is in there because I gave Chizzy the information she needed to take her."

"That doesn't mean you have to die for it."

"Doesn't it?" He looked at me with eyes that held more clarity than I'd seen from him in years. "I've spent my entire adult life making choices based on fear. Fear of commitment, fear of taking sides, fear of the consequences of standing for something. And now an innocent child is paying the price."

Through the bond, Aurora's hunger pangs hit me like physical blows. My breasts ached with unused milk, my arms felt empty without her weight, and every maternal instinct I possessed was screaming at me to forget strategy and just run to her.

"We need to go," I said again, my voice breaking. "Please, we need to go now."

Maverick and Mason exchanged a look—one of those wordless conversations that happened between people who'd known each other for years.

"Alright," Maverick said finally. "We go. But we stick to the plan until it stops working."

"And when it stops working?" I asked.

His smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Then we improvise."

The aqueduct entrance was a narrow crack in the mountainside, hidden behind centuries of overgrowth and easily missed if you weren't looking for it. The water that trickled from it glowed faintly green in the pre-dawn darkness.

"Remember," Mason said as we prepared to enter, "the water won't hurt you as long as you don't have hostile intent toward the Council's interests. The magic reads intentions, not actions."

"And if it reads wrong?" Maverick asked.

"Then we'll know because you'll start dissolving."

"Comforting."

I barely heard their exchange. All my attention was focused inward, on the blood bond that connected me to Aurora. Her distress was getting worse—hunger giving way to the kind of deep exhaustion that came from crying too long without comfort.

"She's getting weaker," I whispered.

"Then we'd better move fast," Maverick said, stepping into the glowing water without hesitation.

For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then the water began to flow around him harmlessly, recognizing his presence as... acceptable, apparently.

"My turn," I said, and followed him into the narrow tunnel.

The water was ice-cold and felt wrong against my skin—not wet so much as alive, testing, probing for any hint of hostile magic. I thought about Aurora, about holding her, about getting her somewhere safe, and the water's glow softened from threatening green to a gentler blue.

"It's working," Mason said behind me. "Keep thinking protective thoughts, not violent ones."

Easier said than done when every fiber of my being wanted to burn the entire fortress to the ground.

The tunnel system was a maze of narrow passages and sudden drops, made more treacherous by the fact that we couldn't use any light that might give away our position. We moved by feel and instinct, following the flow of the enchanted water toward the main structure.

"Stop," Maverick whispered suddenly.

We froze. Ahead of us, the tunnel opened into what looked like a larger chamber. And in that chamber, voices.

"—should have killed the brat immediately instead of using it as bait," someone was saying. A woman's voice, cold and practical.

"Chizzy wants the mother to suffer," replied another voice. "Watching her child die slowly will break her more thoroughly than a quick death."

"And if this gambit fails? If they actually manage to breach our defenses?"

"Then we activate the final contingency. The binding ritual that will drain the child's power and transfer it to more... suitable vessels."

My blood turned to ice. They weren't just planning to kill Aurora. They were planning to steal her abilities first.

Through the bond, I felt Aurora stir slightly—not waking, but shifting in whatever makeshift prison they'd put her in. The movement sent a spike of pure maternal rage through me so intense that the water around us flared from blue to burning white.

"Maggie," Maverick hissed. "Control it."

But I couldn't control it. The thought of them touching my daughter, of using her power for their own ends, of her tiny body being subjected to magical torture...

The water began to boil.

"Shit," Mason breathed. "The water's reacting to your intent. You're thinking violent thoughts."

"They want to drain her power," I snarled. "They want to torture my baby and steal what makes her special."

"And if you don't get your emotions under control, we'll all be dead before we can stop them."

The voices in the chamber ahead were getting louder, more alert. Someone had noticed the change in the water's magical signature.

"—disturbance in the aqueduct system—"

"—possible breach—"

"—alert all units—"

"Move," Maverick commanded. "Now. Fast and quiet."

We splashed through the increasingly unstable water, racing against time and my own rage. The chamber ahead was better lit now, guards moving with the efficient purpose of people responding to an alarm.

"There," Mason pointed to a maintenance ladder barely visible in the shadows. "That leads up to the main level."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to make sure they're too busy to follow you." He pulled something from his jacket—a small crystal that pulsed with dangerous red light. "Destabilization charge. Should keep them occupied for a few minutes."

"Mason—"

"Go get your daughter, Maggie. And when you do..." He smiled, and for the first time since I'd known him, it was completely genuine. "Tell her that Uncle Mason tried to make things right."

He threw the crystal into the center of the chamber and shoved us toward the ladder as chaos erupted behind us.

The explosion wasn't loud—it was the opposite of loud, a sound so deep it was felt rather than heard. But the effects were immediate. The carefully maintained magical balance of the fortress shuddered, alarms began screaming, and every defensive system in the building activated at once.

"Third floor," I gasped as we climbed, Aurora's presence burning bright in my mind. "Eastern tower. She's close."

"Hold on, baby," Maverick murmured, though I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or Aurora. "Mama and Papa are coming."

Behind us, the sounds of battle echoed up through the tunnel system. Mason's distraction was working, but I could feel through the residual traces of our old mate bond that he was already badly hurt.

He wasn't going to make it out alive.

And he knew it.

But Aurora was close now, so close I could almost hear her heartbeat through the stone walls. Whatever happened to the rest of us, I was going to get my daughter back.

Even if I had to tear this entire place apart with my bare hands.