The team gathered by the cave mouth. The cold wind felt good after the suffocating tension of the trap.
Seraph was pacing back and forth, her movements sharp and angry like a caged panther. Her face was a mask of cold, hard ice. But her eyes burned with a contained fury that was hotter than any fire. They tried to kill her. They tried to kill her team. Her students. In her mind, this was no longer a political game. This was treason. This was war.
"We pull back now," Titus said, his deep voice grim. "We have the proof. We disarmed their trap. We return to the Academy and let the Headmaster handle this."
"He's right," Jax grunted, cleaning his knife with a practiced efficiency. "That's the safe option. We've won this round. No sense pushing our luck."
Retreating was the logical choice. The safe choice. But Jonah, looking up at the distant, clouded peak where he knew Colonel Boris was watching and waiting, felt a strong will to fight back.
