“Not without supervision,” Grey growls. He restrains Alfie and Roman with spidersilk ties and then moves to accompany Kor into the sub. “I warn you, philistine”—he again motions to the Guard standing in wait at the top of the cliff—“if you try anything while inside the vessel, they will not hesitate to obliterate it.”

Soon after they enter, the sub powers down, and then Kor is coming back out, followed by two terrified men. One looks like he is probably the captain of the submarine, and the other one I recognize as the security guard Rafe incapacitated on North Brother Island. Grey is close behind them carrying a large black duffel, presumably containing their weapons.

As Kor allows Kaylie to bind his hands, I can’t help but notice that his cheeks are once again suffused with color, and his strength seems to have been restored.

Grey and Kaylie lead the five men into the station.

With all concerned onlookers gone, Rafe staggers, and I guide him to sit on a rock.

A shadow falls over us as a cloud blocks the setting sun. Rafe looks up and smiles, and my eyes follow his.

No, not a cloud.

Massive wings and shining black scales eclipse the sky. I see a whipping tail, sharp claws, and fierce, intelligent eyes. And then the majestic creature lands in front of us, Prince Alexander riding astride its back.

He pulls Rafe and me up with him, and we fly into the bruised orange of the sunset sky.

On a gravdamn dragon.

41

Riding a dragon is the most breathtaking, wondrous, terrifying experience of my lifetime. But I don’t have long to appreciate it. In what feels like mere moments, we land on the institute’s ornithopter pad. Prince Alex immediately heads to the council room as Bioscience masters check Rafe’s vitals. Everyone is too busy to question how and why I’m back on the island.

I duck into the first bathroom I pass to wash the blood off my hands. I scrub them till they’re raw, but there are still brown traces under my nails, so I keep scrubbing.

Everyone’s alive. Everyone’s alive.

I keep repeating it over and over. I left New York this morning with that goal in mind, and it’s been fueling me for this entire endless day.

I look at myself in the mirror. Yep. I look like someone who hoverboarded through a tunnel for hours and then did impromptu surgery on the beach. My adrenaline is still pumping, every heartbeat communicating urgency, but I’m not sure what I should do next.

I could go to my room, find Georgie, get some sleep. But my feet don’t lead me to the Winter wing. Despite successfully managing to avert tragedy, I feel so empty. So lost. And there’s only one person I want to see.