Chapter Thirteen: The Edge of Control

Tara's breath came in short, uneven bursts. Her head swam, her vision flickering in and out like a glitching transmission. The gas—what had they done to her? Landon's grip tightened around her arm, keeping her from collapsing completely.

"We need to go," he whispered urgently, voice taut with barely concealed panic.

Tara forced herself to focus. She didn't remember getting to the floor. Didn't remember what she had seen. Only fragments remained, drifting like smoke through her mind—her mother's voice, blood on her hands, a lullaby curling through the void. Something had come apart in her. And Landon had been there. How?

She stumbled, gripping his sleeve. "You—you weren't supposed to be here."

Landon exhaled sharply, looking over his shoulder. "I know."

Tara's head spun. "Then—why—?"

A shadow shifted at the far end of the hall. A guard. Landon cursed under his breath. He pulled her forward, fast, half-carrying her through the side door, shoving them both into the narrow space between two walls. Tara's back hit the cold metal. She squeezed her eyes shut, the gas still curling in her skull like fog. Landon leaned in close, pressing a steadying hand to her shoulder.

"They know what you are."

Tara's stomach dropped.

Her eyes snapped open. "What?"

Landon's expression was grim.

"I don't think they have proof yet. But they're looking for it." He exhaled. "And I couldn't just stand there and let them take it from you."

Tara shook her head, trying to clear the disjointed memories rattling in her skull. None of this was supposed to happen. Nobody told her the plan, but this had to be wrong. Skye. Skye knew something. She stiffened.

Landon caught it immediately. "Tara—"

She pushed against his chest, forcing space between them. "Skye let you do this, didn't he?"

Landon hesitated. That was all she needed. Tara let out a harsh breath, her body still weak but her mind racing.

"After last night," she whispered. "After he saw us together."

Landon didn't deny it. Tara's head pounded. Skye had known about Landon all along. Had let this happen. Not just let it happen—orchestrated it. 

Her pulse quickened. "What did you two talk about?"

Landon ran a hand down his face, sighing. "He asked–wanted to know what you are."

Tara's chest tightened.

"And?"

Landon's gaze darkened. "And I told him what I knew."

Tara's breath hitched. "Which is?"

Landon hesitated. "That you're unstable."

The words hit like a knife.

Landon winced. "Tara, I—"

Her hands curled into fists. No. No, this wasn't happening.

"I don't even know what I am," she whispered, voice hoarse. "So how the hell do you?"

Landon exhaled sharply. His hand found hers, fingers pressing firm.

"You were never like the others," he murmured. "Not in the Middle Order. Not here. Not anywhere, if I can say that."

Tara's heart pounded. She wanted to pull away. Wanted to fight him on this. But something in the way he looked at her—the quiet, unwavering truth in his eyes—She didn't know how to fight that.

⸻

Outside the facility, the dampers hummed faintly in the air. Tara had never questioned them before. The way Shade Territory functioned, the way their powers were kept in check—she had assumed it was absolute. But now, watching the others move through the streets, some of them wielding abilities while others remained powerless—She knew it wasn't that simple. Landon stood beside her, watching the same scene unfold.

"They don't affect everyone the same way," he said. "Weaker supernatural beings can still use their powers, as long as they're not a risk to the Order. But the stronger you are—"

"The more suppressed you become," Tara finished, realization sinking in.

Landon nodded. Tara's mouth felt dry. That meant the real threats weren't the ones who couldn't use their magic. It was the ones who could—despite the dampers.

"If you can exceed sixty percent of your power while still under the damper..." she trailed off.

Landon finished the thought for her.

"They see you as too strong to control."

Tara stared at him. And she knew. She wasn't supposed to survive this. She was supposed to be exposed. Tara's hands trembled as she looked up at the sky, the swirling greenish-purple clouds stretching endlessly overhead. She wasn't supposed to make it out of here at all.