By the time I walk into the kitchen, Luca is plating a salad. He used my favorite raspberry vinaigrette and topped it with toasted almonds. He sniffs the bottle suspiciously. “This smells like shit.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I defend the dressing, snatch the salad from the counter, and take a massive bite.Gods, that’s good.“Thanks.”
Luca watches me eat with satisfaction. “I knew you wouldn’t want something heavy before your shift, but after? After, I’m going to feed you your bodyweight in protein and carbs.”
I imagine a greasy burger, and my stomach gurgles. “What will you eat?”
“You. Duh.” Luca winks and presses a water bottle into my hand.
I hide my smile. Him being in my space is starting to feel good. Maybe happy endings aren’t only for fairy tales and porn, after all.
THIRTY-FIVE
Enclave Edict #8:
All enclave members are equals.
CIPRIAN
Head pounding, my magic sputters angrily as it tastes my fear while hungering for someone else’s. It’s pointless, like swallowing your own spit when you need a glass of water.
I shouldn’t have made those nightmares to calm the children. My fear stores were already low, and I gained nothing by creating those illusions. But they were scared.
When I got out of the car, their fear hit me. I perked up, then felt sick to my stomach. Orphans dropped in an environment they don’t understand . . . I saw Sheena in their faces and acted without thinking.
Now I’m the only one afraid.
Sheena isn’t answering my texts. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I last heard from her. Something is wrong. I can’t deny it anymore, and I need to hear her voice or I won’t be able to sleep.
I glance at Alistair. We skipped the club after a pileup on the interstate made the drive back from Valley of Fire take longer than expected. Head buried in his laptop, he isn’t paying any attention to me, so I make for the bathroom. It’s late, about an hour before Celine and Luca get back. I have plenty of time to make a call.
Passing through Celine’s bedroom, I shut the bathroom door behind me and turn the fan on. I dial Sheena’s number, fingers clenching tighter and tighter around the phone as it rings and rings and rings and rings, before going to voicemail.
The acidic bubbling in my chest burns, spreading like lava in my veins. I scrub my palm over my ribcage, trying to push the worry away.
It’s going to be okay; she’s tough.
I call her again, my heart leaping into my throat when someone picks up.
“Ciprian? Is that you, sweetheart?”
I frown. The voice on the other end of the line is as familiar to me as my own, but it doesn’t belong to my best friend. “Sarah? Why do you have Sheena’s phone?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Someone should have called you, but everything happened so fast—we’ve been reeling.”
“Slow down,” I beg. “What happened fast? Where’s Sheena?”
I listen to the rest of the call through a dull roaring in my ears. Sinking down on the closed toilet seat, I ask Sarah to keep me updated, then hang up.
Should I text Callum or Gideon? My stomach churns. Why should I reach out to them when they never consider me? I scoff, shaking my head. I would gladly swallow my pride if I thought it would help Sheena, but there’s nothing I can add. There’s no way my brother isn’t already tearing the world apart on her behalf. He doesn’t need me. He never has.
What if I never see her again?
Sheena’s laughing face flashes through my mind. We fell into our friendship fast. And I admit, it started as a way to piss Callum off on my end. I didn’t expect it to last. Now, though... she’s important to me, and there’s nothing I can do to help her.
The panic comes for me. I let it in, allowing the tendrils to grab hold of my organs and squeeze. My palms prickle. Cold sweat beads on my temples. Pleased with its unfettered access, the terror rips and claws at me in a way it hasn’t been able to since Dad trained me to master my fear as a boy.
I deserve this. We all do, for failing her.
