Then I twist his hair around my fingers, nice and tight, and stroll away. The tearing sound is immediate, screaming follows.
He’s so fucking pathetic.
Part of me thinks I should just kill him, putmeout ofmymisery, but I won’t, he’s not mine to take.
I might be a monster, but I’m no thief.
I quicken my pace, eyes drifting to the clumps of scalp in my hand. Ew. I toss it over the edge, watching them descend into the lower levels of the Pit where they catch fire and vanish.
I exhale hard, staring into the abyss. I’m just so bored of this.
So. Fucking. Bored.
But the Pit’s the only thing stopping me from falling into the Dark. I’ve already spent way too long there, already wasted too much of the guys’ time getting dragged back out.
So this is where I spend my time. In the Pit. Torturing.
Over the last ten days, we’ve spent more time apart than we ever have since we first met, but I guess we’re all to blame for that.
And if we’re not in the Pit, or the dark, there’s only a few other options:
Chasing after Prospero—the Lord who stuck a knife in our backs—unsuccessfully.
Trying to hunt down the Green-Cloaked prick from Red’s nightmare. A skilled mage spent days trying to scry for him, but trying to track down someone from a dream, especially when the guy’s face was basically smudged out, was only ever going to end one way.
Failure.
Then there’s searching for the girl Red found in the cells.
Another dead end.
Naturally, Zeek’s running himself ragged over all three, because that’s what he does. I can’t even tell which one eats at him more, being betrayed by a so-called friend, not being able to catch the bastard who haunts our girl, or trying to save an innocent.
Then there’s babysitting the dragon and stopping him from losing his fiery shit. Seems Julien’s given himself a new hobby with that one. Don’t blame the guy, I haven’t exactly been fun to be around.
And last but not least, and my personal favourite, playing a game of ‘who can pretend the others don’t exist’—although I’m a close second, Kane’s winning. Because blaming himself for everything is kind of his thing.
Daddy Darkness to a T.
“My dearest friend, please tell me you haven’t been down here all day again.” Julien steps out of the shadows like he’s stepping onto a stage, all calm and elegant, even over the background wails of the damned. Classic Julien.
He’s in our uniform too, but his is a lot less bloody. Man’s way too suave to be a slob.
I roll my neck, cracking it loudly, and flash him a lazy grin. “After this morning’s blow-up with Zeek? Didn’t fancy round two, mate. Not yet, anyway.”
We’d been fighting more than we ever have, over everything. This morning, it was over who got to call Kacey. Weboth got one good hit in before I told him to go‘fuck himself’and flitted here.
Julien steps closer, planting a hand on the shoulder of my chest plate. “We’ve been trying to reach you. But you’ve blocked us.” His gaze softens. “Even me.”
Fuck.
I almost brush him off, tell him to‘fuck off’too, maybe with a quick shoulder barge. But I don’t.
Because I know that look.
Julien’s hurt, and the guilt hits me straight away.
He’s the first person to ever give a shit about me, who saved me when he didn’t have to, and taught me not to explode stuff unless I meant to. He taught me how to breathe.
