Chapter 1
XAVIER
“Xavier.”
The silence that follows Delilah’s tortured whisper is deafening. My instincts are louder. They scream at me to rush to her side, to staunch the blood flowing from her stomach.
To save her fucking life.
And mine as well. Because if she dies, I’ll take the knife from her body and slit my throat. I can’t live in a world where she doesn’t exist.
The leaders of the founding families watch us with morbid fascination. The men are wearing masks, but that doesn’t hide the vicious light in their gazes. Is their silence one of approval? Or is it a continuation of the Trial, to gauge my reaction to Delilah bleeding out before my eyes?
If they don’t give me their blessing soon, I might fail entirely. I’d rather face punishment than let her die.
I turn to them while keeping my bride in my peripheral vision. Delilah grips the knife handle, and I grind my teeth, knowing firsthand the pain she’s experiencing.
My girl wrenches the blade from her body with a grunt, her chest heaving. Blood pours from the wound. I can’t stop my eye from twitching.
“Not bad,” she says, glancing down at the puncture wound, “but not good enough.”
Her voice is thin and airy but strong, fueled by an inner fire that I adore. Delilah’s words are the very ones I said to her three years ago when she stabbed me. If this were any other circumstance where her life wasn’t in danger, my dick would be hard.
She doesn’t wait for a response and tosses the knife as if it’s of no consequence. It clatters against the wooden platform, fracturing the tension in the air. She takes a step and groans softly, her hands hovering over her stomach.
I force myself to remain frozen in place. If I’m to protect her, my role demands stoicism, even as her suffering tears me apart. When Delilah drops to her knees with a small cry, all thoughts of strategy disappear, replaced by unadulterated panic.
“My bride needs medical attention,” I say, keeping my voice even. Barely. “If she doesn’t survive, I’ll revert back to a vow of celibacy, which would fucking suck.”
The leaders don’t react to the caustic statement. My heart, already thumping in my chest, beats even harder. I flick my gaze to Delilah, noting the blankness of her stare before her eyelids close and she falls onto her back. She smacks her head with a thud, and I wait for her to groan or curse. The stillness that follows has my skin prickling with terror.
Did I nick an artery?
I know my aim is excellent, more accurate than any other recruit, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mortally wound her. If I’m the reason she dies…
I spin on my heel towards my bride.
Fuck. This. Shit.
“Don’t move, recruit.”
Halting, I look over my shoulder to find Daniel Kent, ruler of the medical empire, watching me. His stare is a challenge, a demand for submission. I hold his gaze, unwilling to back down.
“She’s dying,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“We know.”
I stand there, struggling to contain the frenzy churning inside me. It builds with every moment, zipping along my flesh like electricity, until I’m ready to explode.
“What’s the point of this?” When he doesn’t answer me, I continue. “Do something, orIwill.”
Kent’s gaze hardens, a construct of reprimand and authority. “Is that a threat, recruit?”
“No, it’s a statement. She’s my property, and it’s my right to determine if she lives or dies.”
His eyes never leave my face as though he’s searching for something. Defiance? Resolve? Fear? I keep my expression blank and my hands loose at my sides. Whatever he’s looking for, he won’t find it.
If I haven’talreadyexposed my weakness for Delilah.
