“It was Ezra’s call to keep her within our walls, but I didn’t change it. I wanted her in my family, so I threw my allies in her path. Every family in existence can give her better options than I.” He gestured around the space. “My castle is a relic from BT. It’s been a fortress, a prison, a garrison, and a tourist attraction. Its bleak stone walls are filled with a mix of people either running from something or heading toward something they hope is better than what they had.”
He leaned back on his arms again. “So, in my insecurity, I didn’t want her to know what else was out there.” He smiled sadly. “And manipulation has shades of gray that I do not deny participating in, but if I truly intended to force her”—shadows fell over hisface—“she would be silently screaming while my mental will held her exactly where I wanted her.”
A rigid ache locked my spine.
Rowan let out a painful grunt. “Sir.”
“I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” A shudder ran through the Architect. “That’s not me. It will never be me. But it is something I’m capable of.” His gaze turned inward. “Sometimes, it makes me hate myself.”
His last words were barely more than a breath, almost lost to the air.
Self-hatred was something I knew well, just not something I ever thought I’d share with the Architect.
He turned to Rowan, and his entire demeanor shifted. “We are so far past ‘sir’ it’s painful. I’ve spent two days half-naked in a tiny room with you. We’re even on the same pee schedule, not to mention the showers a few days ago. Call. Me. Xan.”
Rowan ducked but also grinned. “And we tethered the same woman.”
For a split second, the Architect grinned back, and then his entire face fell.
Quinn. My fists clenched, my pulse a pounding drum in my ears. She was out there somewhere, and instead of looking for her, I was wallowing in my own shit.
The Architect turned back to me. “I’m human, Cayden. I’m not a god. I’m not a prophet. I am just a man.” He sat back up and held out his hand to me. “My name is Alexander. My friends call me Xan. I didn’t grow up in a cult, but if you wanted to swap stories about shitty childhoods, we could probably go toe to toe.”
I studied his hand, not liking the humor he was trying to interject into the moment. But Quinn would have.
‘I know you haven’t felt it yet, but Xan and Ezra make her happy. Give him a chance to show you who he truly is.’Rowan’s voice was so quiet, like he desperately needed to speak but also didn’t want his words to shift the balance in the wrong way.
I let out a pain-filled sigh and clasped Xan’s wrist. “I have no interest in swapping anything with you.”
His grip tightened, steady, grounding, but far from aggressive. “Honesty’s a start. Now, what just happened?”
We released our grips, and I described the wall and the pain in my chest. The feeling in my arm slowly returned. We spent the rest of the day attempting to widen the tether in every way we could think of until our bodies and magic were exhausted.
Xan’s TB buzzed once, twice, and then followed by a small trickle. He pulled it out and grimaced. I could almost see him age with each message.
“Sir?” Rowan asked.
Xan scrubbed his face. “I’m a mentalist. Accusations that I’m manipulating Quinn’s mind were already rampant from the three days she spent in my rooms. With her missing, the accusations are turning to open hostility. Even from a few of my allies.”
The hatch opened, and Ezra’s head lowered. “Xan, sleep now. You’ll do her no good if you’re unconscious.”
I pursed my lips. We did her no good asleep either. Quinn’s mind was her own; anyone who had spent time with her knew it. We just had to find her. And if I couldn’t now, I’d make damn sure she was safe once we did.
As commanded, we filed out. Instead of going to my room, I pulled Ezra to the side. “If my Prophet learns about the Alun, he will try to take this castle by force to possess it.”
Ezra’s gaze darkened.
“Your security is bad. You have holes and too much trust in your men, especially with them stretched to hold The Mile.”
“And you’re an expert in these things?” Ezra said flatly.
I wanted to be sick. “Yes. Our security was tight because the Prophet needed total control over our lives. It’s not called The Lawson Compound for nothing. No one in. No one out.”
Ezra studied my face before reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. “Your experience, no matter how you got it, is wanted.” He dropped his hand. “I’ll have food brought to my war room. Come.”
It wasn’t saving my best friend, but at least it was something.
The following day, we started again, this time focusing on Xan and his mind magic. By the evening, it was clear I was getting worse. Every minute without Quinn built another wall I couldn’t break.
