The Sanguine Solstice wasn’t just a celebration. It was a hint, a clue left in plain sight, woven into the very fabric of the evening’s events. The answer clicks in my brain and my eyes go wide. Sanguineus castor bean—a probable cause for every symptom I’m experiencing.
The Order’s penchant for embedding meaning in every detail is not just pedantic, it’s related to death. In my gut, I know I’m right. Now, I have to find a way to tell Benjamin, to save his life.
For my little raptor.
“Hey, McKenzie,” I shout. When he shifts his bleary gaze to me, I lift my hand, give him the middle finger and rest it under my nostril. “You’ve got some shit on your face.”
Tapping my upper lip, I smirk at him, using the expression to hide the urgency in my gaze. Silently, I attempt to communicate this crucial piece of data, the clue that’ll keep him from dying. It’s a risk, using such an overt gesture, but subtlety won’t cutit with the time ticking away, and I need him to understand without drawing the attention of the leaders evaluating us.
For a moment, Benjamin just stares at me, confusion etching his features. His initial reaction is a mix of irritation and heated shame. But as he watches, his eyes narrow slightly, and I can almost see his mind churning with thought. He looks down at the blood on his hand, back up at me, and then to the pool of blood that had dripped to the floor.
Despite his compromised faculties, his expression shifts from annoyance to understanding. He gives me a slight nod, almost imperceptible, but enough to confirm he’s got it.
“X, go fuck yourself,” he says, his voice carrying none of the relief that’s swirling in his gaze.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Keeping my face neutral, I drop my hand and turn back to the workbench. My thoughts are calm now, my hands driven by revelation. I sift through the vials, selecting those components that I know can counteract toxins known for its rapid onset of symptoms and disruption of motor functions. Each movement is calculated, each choice a step closer to survival.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Benjamin work, his movements becoming more confident. The bastard has always excelled in poisons. I’m not surprised when he injects himself with an antidote before I’ve finished preparing mine.
Once I’m done, I draw the solution into a syringe, my hands shaking so badly that I nearly drop it. I stumble toward the nearest wall, and rest my spine on the cool surface, my hair completely damp with sweat. My fingers twitch as pain lances through my body, again and again. It brings me to my knees.
Before I collapse, I blindly stab myself with the needle, unable to inject myself properly. Then I push down the plunger, feeling the cold liquid surge into my bloodstream, carrying with it the hope of nullifying the poison’s effects.
I let my head fall back against the stone wall behind me, closing my eyes as I wait for the antidote to work its way through my system. Each heartbeat thumps loudly in my ears, a relentless reminder of the poison that’s been coursing through my veins, slowly killing me. My body feels leaden, heavy, as if I’m being pushed deeper into the ground with each passing second. The pain finally begins to recede, but the weakness lingers, sapping my energy, leaving me drained and immobile.
My thoughts drift to Delilah, to her beautiful face filled with fear the last time I saw her. The memory of her expression sharpens the ache in my chest—not from the poison, but from worry. What is my father doing to her right now? Is she safe? Is she scared?
The thought of her being hurt is too much for me to handle.
I need to see her again. I need to touch her. To kiss her.
Passing this Trial is about more than me avoiding death, it’s about saving the life of the woman I care about. The woman who has become my everything.
Chapter 29
DELILAH
“Hey, McKenzie. You’ve got some shit on your face.”
The sound of Xavier’s voice comes through the speakers loud and clear. It has my heart breaking and my temper—already pretty fucked from the council members—rising.
Edward jumps up at the exchange, making a beeline for the monitors. His gaze narrows on Ben’s cell, not Xavier’s. “Damn it! He’s already bleeding.”
The man’s voice is barely audible and I wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t standing so close to me. As much as his behavior confuses me, I’m more concerned with his son’s.
Xavier flips off Ben while tapping the space just under his nose. Why is he taunting Ben? Is he that big of an asshole? This situation is serious, and for Xavier to mock Ben for showing signs of poisoning is not just wrong, it’s downright cruel.
Ben’s expression carries the surprise sure to be on my face as well. He wipes the blood from his nose, and I flinch at the streak left behind. Beside me, Edward curses under his breath.
Is Ben going to make it? Based on Edward’s reactions to his condition, my foster brother is doomed. So, why would Xavier act this way, especially now, when every second could mean the difference between life and death?
“X, go fuck yourself,” Ben says.
Xavier’s smirk widens. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Gage spins in his chair to face the monitors. “Looks like your son is being a dick, Donovan. I approve.”
