ILYA
"I might have something that could help. You need to find her mother. Because, as I just found out—Willow Jameson might not be dead."
A dead, freezing silence paralyzed the line. For several agonizing seconds, the only sound was the ambient rustle of the wind through the canopy and the sharp, irregular skipping of my own pulse against AKELA's monitor.
"What the hell are you talking about, Ilya?" Mikhail's voice dropped an octave, the vulnerability vanishing instantly, replaced by a terrifying, low-frequency rumble that vibrated through my earpiece. "Willow Jameson died in that hospital bed. Selene watched her chest stop moving. She has her mother's ashes resting in an urn in her quarters right now. Explain yourself."
"The ashes are a sham, Mikhail," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coating my tongue. "They're animal remains. Dog ashes."
