“Was she also part of your orders?” he asks, his voice rising in anger.
I shake my head. “I didn’t know she existed until that night.”
“So why now?” Ben’s voice is a mix of fury and disbelief. “Why are you telling me all of this, when you’ve known for years you were going fucking stab me in the back?”
“Because…” I pause, taking a deep breath, the truth surfacing despite the risks. “You mean too much to Delilah.”
Benjamin shakes his head, his expression darkening. “You’re doing this because you’re in love with her.”
I nod.
“You realize what you’re suggesting? Going against your father, the Order... Delilah is seen as a bride, not wife material. They’ll never accept her.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” I fold my arms. “I’ll make her my wife, no matter what it takes. The Order’s rules be damned.”
Benjamin studies me for a long moment, his initial shock giving way to a thoughtful expression. “What’s the plan, then? How do we get out of this without ending up dead?”
I blow out a breath of frustration. “I don’t know. If my father doesn’t kill me when I emerge from the tunnels without you, I’ll think of something. The only way to get rid of my father is to prove his betrayal to the Order, but that’s going to be hard if he thinks you’re dead.”
“And Delilah?”
“I’ll protect her.”
He nods.
“I need to finish this Trial and then get Delilah to a secure location. Stay here until I come back for you. There are MREs and bottles of water.”
“Thank you, X,” he says. “I know your life would be easier if you just killed me and lied to Delilah about it.”
I tilt my head and smirk. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Asshole.”
“Bastard.”
He smiles and flips me off.
Leaving him safely hidden, I move cautiously back into the gas-filled tunnels, my shirt secured over the lower half of my face. The hallucinogenic haze has begun to dissipate, a clear sign that the traps are on a timer, or perhaps they’re just running out of the noxious substance. Either way, I use the walls to guide me, my hand brushing against the cold stone as I navigate by memory and faint light.
Finally emerging into clearer air, I pause, taking deep breaths of the less contaminated environment. The temporary safety is shattered when I spot Eric Gage, his silhouette looming a few meters ahead in the dimly lit tunnel. He tilts his head as I approach, his twisted smirk visible even in the dim light.
“Lost your way, X?” Eric taunts, his voice echoing slightly off the tunnel walls.
“Not at all.” My tone is even despite my adrenaline beginning to rise. “What the fuck do you want?”
Eric chuckles darkly, stepping closer. “What happened to your sidekicks? I hope they’re dead. We both know only the strong will live.”
“Then why aren’t you dead yet?”
His eyes narrow, his smirk fading, replaced by a look of pure malice. He steps closer, his posture predatory, each movement radiating hostility. “You’ve always been a cocky asshole, Donovan.”
I tighten my grip around the flashlight. “Either fight me or shut the fuck up. I don’t have time for your shit.”
“You won’t leave this tunnel alive,” he sneers, swinging the rusted pipe that I left behind. It gleams dully in the faint light, a brutal makeshift weapon.
The confined space amplifies every sound: our breathing, the faint drip of water, the hum of tension thickening the air. Theenergy coursing through me sharpens my focus, and I square my shoulders in preparation for his attack.
Eric lunges at me, the pipe aimed at my head. I dodge to the side, using my flashlight to deflect his arm away, the impact jarring but not debilitating. He snarls, trying to regain his balance, but I’m already moving, striking out with a calculated blow to his ribs.
