Page 41 of Petrified

“No. You were deciding what my life was allowed to look like.”

Gerald’s gaze drops briefly when Amand steps in close enough that his shoulder brushes mine. The bond settles around me almost immediately, Rowan warm at my back and Amand cool against my side, my magic smoothing beneath my skin before I consciously reach for either of them.

Gerald watches the change.

I see it happen.

His attention sharpens for less than a second, but it's enough.

I start laughing again, quieter this time. “You’re still doing it.”

Gerald looks back at my face. “Doing what?”

“Watching what they do to me.” I lean into Rowan’s chest and hook my fingers through Amand’s, letting Gerald see the choice instead of the reaction. “You’re standing here explaining why we’re furious that you turned our bond into data, and you still can’t stop checking the result.”

For the first time, Gerald looks almost tired. “Because what is happening to you matters.”

“It matters to me too.” I tighten my grip on both of them and feel my designation settle harder around the three of us. “The difference is that I’m done letting you decide what happens next.”

Gerald studies me for several seconds. “You still don't know the limits of what you can become.”

“Maybe I don’t.” I look at the folder carrying my father’s name, then at the man who kept it from me while pretending we were learning together. “But if finding out requires another one of my mates nearly dying so you can write confirmed beside a theory, you can stay curious.”

Rowan’s chest vibrates against my back with a low growl, while Amand squeezes my hand and keeps his attention fixed on Gerald. Neither of them pulls me toward the door yet, and I'm grateful because I need Gerald to hear the last part without pretending there is room left to negotiate.

“You got your unicorn trial. You got your hostile-magic trial. You got all that time of watching what Basilisk venom does to me, what separation does to me, and what happens when they put me back together.” I hold Gerald’s gaze until his expression finally loses that clinical distance. “Whatever experiment you thought you were running ends here. You don't get to choose the next test.”

Chapter 12

LEVIATHAN

By the time we leave Essence, Gerald has managed to ruin the rest of my day so thoroughly that I almost miss the first sign something else is wrong. Medusa was supposed to meet us back at the restoration yard after checking one of the older properties her ex used to work, but Rowan gets there first and stops beside the open gate so abruptly that Amand nearly walks into him.

I’m a few steps behind them, still carrying the folder Gerald gave me about my father because apparently today needed one more object capable of making me want to set something on fire. “What?” I ask as I move closer, and Rowan points toward the gravel near the office door.

Medusa’s scarf is lying beside the steps, one edge torn and several dark scales caught in the fabric where one of her snakes must have twisted hard enough to scrape against it. The office door stands open behind us, but nothing inside smells fresh enough to matter.

I cross the yard and crouch beside the scarf without touching it. “That’s hers.” I lean closer and breathe through my nose, catching Medusa’s magic immediately before the wet mineral weight beneath it cuts through everything else. “He was here.”

Rowan’s jaw tightens as he looks over the yard. “How long ago?”

“Recent, probably sooner than I think if the wind hasn’t fucked with it.” I straighten and force myself to look at the whole yard instead of immediately following the strongest scent away from it.

Amand checks the office while Rowan stays beside me, and a few seconds later he comes back holding Medusa’s phone. The screen is cracked but still lit, and when he hands it over, my number is sitting at the top of the call log.

“She tried to call me while we were still with Gerald.” I stare at the timestamp for a second before handing the phone back to Amand. Nobody says anything because there’s nothing useful to say about the fact that Medusa was being taken while we were standing in Gerald’s office arguing over whether Rowan nearly dying counted as valuable data.

The anger tries to swing back toward Essence, but I shove it down before it can take over. “We can hate Gerald later. Right now, we find her.”

Rowan nods once. “No Essence.”

“Wasn’t going to ask.” I look toward Amand as he opens the car and reaches for our gear bag.

“Good,” he says, checking what we already have instead of reaching for his phone. “I’m not giving Gerald another opportunity to decide what kind of pressure would be educational.”

That lands exactly where it should. I take one slow breath and turn back toward the yard, following the gargoyle’s native signature without the stolen Medusa magic tangled through it anymore. There is only him now, wet stone and old mineral weight, fresh enough that I can tell he was moving fast when he left.

The trail cuts behind the yard and through a gap in the fence toward one of the old service roads. Rowan moves ahead of me while Amand stays close enough that our shoulders brush whenever the path narrows, and neither of them tells me to slow down even though I can feel both of them waiting to see whether I fall back into the same habits that kept losing the gargoyle before.