Reporters flooded in like water through a broken dam. Cameras. Microphones. Shouted questions that overlapped into chaos.
"Cinder Adair!"
I froze mid-step, my coffee cup suddenly too heavy in my hand.
"How do you respond to allegations that you're using your position to get close to players?"
"Sources say you were fired for leaking confidential patient information—do the Dragons know about your history?"
The questions came faster than I could process them, each one a knife sliding between my ribs. I felt the blood drain from my face as cameras swung toward me, flashes going off in rapid succession.
Gavin. This had to be Gavin. The texts, the threats—he'd made good on them.
I took a step back, then another, my training screaming at me to find an exit, to get away from the exposure before—
The temperature dropped.
Not gradually. Not subtly. The air around us went from normal hotel climate to breath-fogging cold in the space of a heartbeat. Frost crept across the nearest window, spreading in delicate fractals that would have been beautiful if they weren't terrifying.
Taz stood near the elevator bank, his face completely blank, but I could see it—the way his skin had gone waxy pale, the way his breath came out in visible clouds. His hands were clenched at his sides, and the cold was radiating off him in waves strong enough that the nearest reporter actually stumbled backward.
"What the—is the AC broken?"
"Why is it so cold?"
The confusion bought us seconds. I moved without thinking, shoving through the crowd toward Taz, my medical instincts overriding every other impulse.
Cole appeared at my shoulder, his expression tight with understanding I didn't have time to question. "Back exit," he said quietly. "Phoenix is holding it open."
"Taz." I reached him, grabbing his arm despite the cold. His eyes found mine—wild, panicked, the same look I'd seen in the locker room when no one believed me about his temperature. "I need you to come with me.Right now."
"I can't—Cinder, I can't stop it."
"You don't have to stop it." I kept my voice steady, calm, the same tone I used with patients in crisis. "You just have to walk. Cole's going to get in front of you, and I'm going to stay right here. We're going to the back exit. That's all. Just walking."
Cole moved smoothly, positioning his body between Taz and the cameras. The reporters were still confused by the cold, someof them rubbing their arms, others checking their phones like the weather app might explain what was happening.
"One step," I said. "Then another. I've got you."
Taz moved. Stiff, mechanical, but moving. The cold followed us like a living thing, frost spreading across the marble floor in our wake. I kept my hand on his arm the whole way, feeling the temperature drop further with every step, watching his breath crystallize in the air.
We made it to the back corridor. Phoenix held the service door open, his expression sharp with concern as we passed through.
"Stairwell," Cole said. "Two floors up, there's a conference room the team uses. It'll be empty."
We climbed. Taz's legs seemed to be working on autopilot, his focus turned inward in a way that scared me more than the cold did. The stairwell walls developed a thin layer of ice as we passed.
The conference room was blessedly empty. I guided Taz to a chair, then dropped to my knees in front of him, pressing my hands against his cheeks despite the cold.
"Hey. Look at me." I waited until his eyes focused. "You're safe. We got out. The reporters are downstairs, and they can't get to us here."
His laugh was more of a rasp. "They weren't threatening me."
"They were threatening someone you care about." The words came out before I could stop them. "That's the same thing to you, isn't it?"
The cold was still rolling off him in waves, but it felt less aggressive now—more like a storm settling than one building. He nodded, almost defeated.
Cole and Phoenix stood by the door, giving us space while keeping watch. I appreciated it more than I could say.