Wesley’s jaw tightened, but it was only for a second, and then the rigidness was replaced by a smile, so quick that Tavia was sure only she had caught it.

It was one of her greatest talents—seeing the parts of Wesley that nobody else could.

“I already have a family,” Wesley said.

He threw his hand out and black smoke curled from his fingertips, just like it had back in the forest. The flames were fast, sliding across the bridge and toward the Kingpin without mercy.

Hope shot into Tavia’s heart.

She had seen Wesley use those flames to decimate a tornado.

She knew the power he had and maybe, just maybe—

Ashwood held up his hand as if to say stop and a barrier of light slid in front of him.

Wesley’s flames hissed against it, like it had burned them. They retreated and then faded into smoke.

His magic couldn’t get through.

Wesley tried again, slinging both arms forward and hurling a tunnel of images toward the Kingpin.

Tavia recognized the magic.

It was the same magic Zekia had used back on Ashwood’s island to try and attack her sister.

The magic Wesley had jumped in front of to save her, weakening him enough for Zekia to take him away.

Wesley had learned a few tricks.

He pressed harder and the cyclone of illusions raced toward Ashwood, only to rebound off his shield like they had been hit. The images splintered across the bridge, breaking apart and fading into the cement.

Ashwood only laughed.

Nothing Wesley threw at him could penetrate the old man’s magic.

Dante Ashwood had been alive for more than a century, and years spent with dark, stolen magic had morphed him into something that wasn’t quite human anymore.

Something that might not have been killable.

Tavia turned.

Across the way, Zekia dodged Karam’s knife and then lifted her into the air, slinging her back into Saxony. The two slid across the bridge, but then Zekia clenched her fists and they stopped just short of slamming into the metal beams.

Tavia saw the young girl wince.

She looked nothing like the ruthless assassin Tavia remembered, willing to do whatever it took and kill whoever it took to please Ashwood.

She was holding back.

Why was she holding back?

It didn’t matter.

Ashwood was their priority now and Tavia would deal with Zekia when it came to it.

“You can’t beat me, boy.”

“Watch me,” Wesley said.

His arms were wide as he gathered a sphere of magic, bright enough to look like a Crafter moon, and then threw it toward Ashwood.

It cracked as soon as it hit the shield, the ball splintering across the bridge into shiny moonlight shards.

And then Tavia saw it.

The gap in Ashwood’s defense.