77. A Breath Before the Storm

Maxwell’s presence fills the cabin with a tense, electric energy. It's as if he brings with him the promise of more chaos—but also, strangely, a sense of relief. Shadow trusts him, that much is clear, though not completely.

“Is there a safe way out of here?” Shadow asks, his voice carrying that commanding tone he uses when he’s in control.

Maxwell shakes his head, jaw clenched.

“Not with the speed they’re moving. Klaus has trackers in every direction. If we leave now, we’ll be surrounded before dawn.”

“Then we fight here,” Shadow replies, calm but resolute.

My stomach twists.

We fight?” I repeat, my throat suddenly dry.

Both men turn to me. Maxwell looks at me like I’m a lost girl in a dark forest, but Shadow steps closer, placing a steady hand on my shoulder.

“Lyra, this cabin isn’t ideal, but we can use it to our advantage. It’s familiar ground, and we have a little time to set traps.”

“Traps?” My voice rises a little higher than I’d like, but I can’t help it.

Maxwell lets out a short, humorless laugh.

“She’s adorable when she tries to keep up.”

“Shut up, Maxwell,” Shadow says, not even glancing at him before turning back to me.

“Listen, Lyra. I know this is a lot, but trust me. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t want to hide while you and Maxwell fight alone,” I say firmly, even though my heart is in utter turmoil.

Maxwell raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but Shadow looks at me with a mix of admiration and worry.

“I know. But if anything happens to you, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

Before I can answer, Maxwell coughs loudly and theatrically.

“Hey, lovebirds, can we focus on not dying tonight?”

I roll my eyes, but Shadow nods, snapping back into action.

“All right. Maxwell, I want you covering the entrances while I prepare the defenses. Lyra, I need you to find anything we can use as a weapon. Sticks, bottles, anything.”

I’m not thrilled about the idea of playing scavenger while they plan the battle, but I know I can’t just stand around. So I nod, grab a flashlight, and start rummaging through every corner of the cabin.

The place is a mess, but I find a few useful things among the rubble: a couple of glass bottles, rusty nails, and even an old machete that’s seen better days. When I return, Maxwell is finishing boarding up the windows, and Shadow is drawing something on the floor with a piece of charred wood.

“What’s that?” I ask, dropping my loot beside him.

“A protection circle,” he replies without looking up.

“Magic?”

He nods.

“It’s not my strength, but it’ll help slow them down if they try to force their way in.”

Maxwell lets out a low chuckle from across the room.

“Since when do you do magic?”

“Since I decided I want to live,” Shadow replies without missing a beat.

Time seems to rush past as we work. Maxwell gives quick, sharp instructions, and Shadow moves with the precision of someone who’s been through war before. I try not to think too much about what’s coming, but the growing knot of anxiety in my chest is impossible to ignore.

By the time we’re done, the cabin looks more like a deathtrap than a shelter. Strings are stretched at strategic points, broken glass is scattered near the entrances, and makeshift weapons are scattered across the room.

“That should give them a surprise,” Maxwell says, crossing his arms and surveying the scene with a hint of satisfaction.

Shadow walks over to me, his eyes glowing with something I can’t quite name.

“Come here,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me to a secluded corner of the cabin.

“What is it?”

“I want you to stay close to me tonight. No matter what happens, don’t leave my side.”

His words are a command, but his tone is thick with emotion.

“What if I need to help?” I ask, though I already know his answer.

“No.” He shakes his head, his gaze piercing. “Your only priority is to stay alive. If things go south, Maxwell and I will cover you.”

I know there’s no point arguing, so I nod—though frustration prickles beneath my skin.

Then he steps closer, placing a hand gently against my cheek.

“Lyra, this is hard for me. I’m not used to caring about someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone who means this much,” he admits in a whisper, and my heart stumbles in my chest.

“You don’t have to protect me from everything, Shadow. I’m here because I *want* to be, not because I need you to save me.”

He smiles—that smile that makes everything seem a little less terrifying for a moment.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“You’ve said that before,” I reply, smiling too.

He tilts his head, as if debating something, and before I can process it, his lips are on mine again. This kiss is different. It’s not driven by desperation, but by a tenderness that undoes me completely.

The moment is shattered by Maxwell’s pointed cough from the other side of the room.

“Hey, lovebirds. Brace yourselves. They’re coming.”

The air tenses immediately, and we all take our positions. Shadow casts me one final look before turning toward the door, his whole body radiating resolve.

And then… it begins.