He looked away. “I felt nothing. No pain. I was maybe five.” His voice dropped with the ghost of shame. “We survived in that bunker for months. Because the monster I’d become… ate my family. One by one.”
A dull ring thundered through my ears, muffling the world as if I’d been dropped underwater. Winston’s glowing yellow eyes dimmed, vanishing into the creased hollows of his face. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He could’ve been a statue, frozen in some warped moment of peace that didn’t belong to the living.
I stared, but I wasn’t really there.
The air around me felt too still, like the room itself was holding its breath. My body felt far away, almost like it was floating in a different world. The wordshe ate his familyechoed in a voice I barely recognized as my own thoughts.
And this man just… lived with it. For a hundred years.
“Did you know you were eating your family?” I don’t know why I blurted it out, but for some reason, it was suddenly the only thing I could think about. Absently, I rolled some dog hair—no, Winston’s hair—across the couch.
“Consciously? No. I was something else entirely, driven by instinct, by scent, by the hum of magic shaping my brain before I even understood what I was. But as I grew into this”—he gestured at himself—“I remembered things. Not in words, but in truth. Somewhere, deep down, I knew. The mind protects itself in strange ways, Quinn. We are all capable of monstrous things… when the alternative is breaking.”
I didn’t know I’d started crying until a tear slipped down my cheek. I hadn’t actually eaten my dad, but I might as well have. My mental illness had consumed us both. Cayden slipped from his perch onto the couch and pulled me against his side. I leaned into his support.
“It was a long time ago,” Winston said, his eyes catching the light, just shy of tears. “I survived. Some monsters got stuck in place; I was lucky. My dog wanted to wander, and so we did, watching the world change. The families grew bold, started butchering anything that wasn’t quite human. So, I hid. And eventually… I found purpose.”
He folded his hands slowly. “The point of my story is this.” His tone hardened. “Instinct was my teacher. Magic didn’t come from study. It came from survival. My medium is visualization. Colorless shapes shaped by a hybrid mind. I project what I need… and it becomes real.”
“That doesn’t help me, does it?” I asked. The shock of Winston’s story eased, and I wiped my cheeks.
Winston shook his head. “Not unless you can secretly turn into a dog.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“You need to speak with Morgen.” Winston pulled out his TB.
I shook my head. “No. She’s already told me I’m not worth anything beyond my reproductive organs.”
Winston tilted his head. “Did she now?” He began forming a scrawl without looking up. “Morgen’s past is her own. Not mine to tell. But I’ll arrange a meeting. If she said something, I doubt it was truly about you.” He finished the scrawl and let it vanish into his TB. “She carries her own fear. She wasn’t as lucky as I was.”
I bit my lips together. Winston ate his family. How was that lucky?
“What about Professor Holiday?” I asked.
Winston shook his head. “He won’t help you.” His gaze lingered on me, caught in the weight of a decision, before he finally exhaled. “The Architect hasn’t made many missteps… but in my opinion, Professor Holiday is one of them. Keep your distance.”
A shiver ran down my back, and Cayden pulled me closer.
“I will stay away from Professor Holiday,” I said, meaning every word.
“Good.” Winston tapped his TB. “I’ll message you both when Morgen’s ready.” He glanced up at me with a grin. “And if you’ve no pressing matters, Quinn, indulge an old man with your company until lunch?”
I nodded. “I’d like that.”
Winston’s gaze locked on Cayden. His face twisted, jaw elongating into a snarling muzzle, patchy fur bursting across his skin. Thick canines dropped like drawn blades.
I ducked, instinct telling me to run, though I couldn’t look away.
“You hurt her,” he rumbled, voice raw and guttural, “and I’ll rip you apart. Piece by piece.”
Chapter 4
Rowan
Iwaitedinthetraining yard for Quinn.
It was so hard to stay still when I could feel her physically moving closer with every step. She wasn’t as hungry today, which was a good thing. I didn’t understand why she barely ate, but I couldn’t call her out without admitting I’d tied her to my soul forever.
