Wasting no time, I rip it open and pull out the card.
Tytan,
Your presence is required at The Table by nine p.m. Instructions will be given upon arrival.
“Knights are convening tonight,” I mumble, flicking the card. “If Rena and Gage are en route to Chicago, that’s probably where they’re going. Why would we be sent separately?”
He mulls that over, sticking bread in the toaster and staring at me. “I’m not sure. But I got called in hours before Celeste for her loyalty test.”
“This is the opposite,” I argue, my heart rate ratcheting higher.
“Well, we had to send a report of your injuries last night with the club’s master list because Gage and I weren’t permitted involvement unless something went wrong. So, maybe they’re giving you some extra time. Regardless, it’s still a fuck ton better than a task somewhere else. They’re all showing up for it, so no more shoot-outs or close calls. Homestretch.”
“Maybe.” The word floats out of me, but no confidence escorts it. And once everything starts crashing together in my head, I flick my gaze to his. “And executions. We often have an execution. We gotta go.”
After Liam forced me to eat his toast and something that resembled scrambled eggs, we grabbed our go bags and hustled to the private airfield. The flight time from Vegas to Chicago is roughly four hours, so we arrive a little early.
A foreboding twinge has had my stomach flipping all damn day. Last night, when I told Rena that the burn would hurt but we’d get through it, I never pictured us apart. KORT had honored my request with all the other tasks. So, this—separating us now—is significant. It’s the oil doused on the fields before the match is struck, sending those overgrown berry bushes into a heap of flames. I know it in my bones.
We stroll through the peaked wooden doorway of the ancient cathedral that sanctions the clandestine corruption of the cabal we’ve pledged our lives to, trading freedom and simplicity for clout and power. The drafty vestibule hisses with the whispers of old ghosts and apparitions that are anything but holy, warning me before I reach the welcoming table. Before I even brush my fingers over the envelope marked with my name, lying in the center of it.
The rustling of paper as I tear it open echoes around us so that even Liam’s breath hitches in his throat. And he’s not the one reading the words.
Final Task: Tytan
Sit in the sanctuary for a traitor’s execution. Participation may be required. If you speak, she dies.
RENA
My breaths pant out around me, deafeningly loud and harmonizing with the chants from the chapel’s ghosts—gossip of sin and scandal, those crooned in confidence and those boasted with conviction. This isn’t a graze-your-fingers-over-rosary-beads confessional. It’s a temple for last rites.
I have no religious background. No allegiance to any sort of deity. No deep knowledge of the history either. But the stained-glass crucifixion I’m glaring at proposes a sordid tale of bygone credence and squandered devotion. I’m aware there is more to the story—a resurrection not depicted in the snippet before me. This is simply the carnage.
But speared and bloody, staked on a mound of skulls, is a chilling route to freedom. No matter the end of the story.
Even the spicy musk that wafts through the air supports that stance. My nose burns with the scents of funeral processions andwakes. The fragrance of lamentation. I chomp on a butterscotch candy, mashing it into pieces to soak in the soothing taste and smell.
Gage sits beside me in this forgotten chapel, a tiny prep room behind the sanctuary in which my final test will transpire. His elbows rest on his knees, his shoulders hunched, his beefy muscles battling his black button-up for their own liberation. And his features seem doleful as he studies the same artistic depiction I’ve been captivated by.
His sonorous tenor rockets through me, even though he’s attempting to manage a hushed tone. “There was a time I wanted to disappear in order to preserve something that meant the world to me. Years ago. Someone talked me out of it for all the wrong reasons—which isn’t the fucking point. I followed the plan. Did what was necessary to keep everything intact, and it got me killed. From that life anyway.”
Gage has always been edgy yet sweet and protective over me. But he’s never shared. And since I’m due inside that sanctuary at any minute, I’m not exactly sure what he’s getting at.
So, I keep it simple. “I’m sorry. You deserved better.”
He shakes his head and blows out a ragged breath. “That death led to all of you, so I win.” He swallows, clenching his fists. “Ty is the strongest man I’ve ever known. The best. But if something happened to you …” His amber eyes coast over to mine, the unwavering determination he always exudes shooting from them while simultaneously cushioned with veneration and compassion for my husband. “I’ll bust you the fuck out of here right now. Say the word.”
His anxiety is palpable, cloaking me in dread. But I’m not sure he’s even thinking clearly. He already confirmed that Ty and Liam are here by tracking their dots. An eleventh-hour escape in which we all make it out hardly seems feasible. Still, Gage’s fierce love and loyalty to Ty, me, and this family I’m a part of is endearing. That much more to fight for.
I grip his bicep, which is larger than my head, and lean againsthim. “I’m good. I mean, they’re letting me have my gun, so how bad can it be?”
“I’m not sure that’s a positive. Either way, that room changes people,” he contends.
The truth of that rings through the dank air. I feel it. But I don’t need to be sheltered anymore. I’m ready to face whatever this is and hopefully move on with my life—a life I dreamed about, no matter how convoluted it’s turned out to be.
“I’m okay with that, as long as all of you are with me on the other side,” I assure him.
“Always.” He plants a kiss in my hair, gives me a squeeze, and clears his throat. “It’s time.”
