Maeve looks at Collins as if it’s her fault. Just a flash, of rage, or unfairness stemming from years of being pitted against her siblings by her father. I step in front of Collins, baring my teeth. Maeve has my loyalty—but no one hurts Collins.
“If you touch her,” I warn, keeping my voice level.
“You’ll, what?” She challenges. When I don’t answer—because what d you say to a killer?—she waves her hand to dismiss me. “Step back.” Hesitating, I hold Collins’ hand, as we move away to let the rest of the contenders put their names in.
Once they’re done, she stands, calling the room’s attention. “Welcome to The Games, boys.” She smiles, and a few of her men laugh. “It’s been a long time, but we’re ready. You’ve been without a second for years and it’s only fair we open them up to choose a new one.
“The Games take place over the next few weeks, honoring our clan’s virtues: innovation, strength, loyalty. Each trial will focus on one. Whichever contender wins the most trials, will become second,” she says, voice steady. “Here’s where you come in. You all will vote on the contenders you want to represent the clan. Choose wisely. They will be your second—someone to lead you should I fall.”
The men cheer loudly, shouts echoing around us as the anticipation builds.
“But first,” she drawls. “We’ll start this off right.” She leaves the first step. “When the clans were a means of survival duringthe dark days, there would be an offering to the old gods. A sacrifice for a productive vote. To find the best second to serve the Captain.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rise as Maeve jerks her chin. “Bring him out.”
Chains rattle and the room stills. Dragged into the center of a small circle is the dirty, stained body of Julian Bruno—mine and Roman’s younger brother. Born a few months after me to Senior’s wife, he was raised as a spare—given anything he wanted, with free reign to cause chaos.
We had vastly different upbringings.
He drops to his knees before Maeve, snarling up at her. His face is similar to Roman’s, lightly tanned, angular, thin with black eyes full of hate. Those eyes are inherited from our father.
“Your brother killed one of my runners,” she hisses. “Achild.”
Julian snorts, spitting at her feet. “You think I care about some dirty Irish scum? The twerp was collateral.” She slaps him.
The entire room freezes and Julian spits blood on her toe.s “Fuck you, you crazy bitch. When Roman finds out you took his brother?—”
“He’ll be too late.” She shoves him to the ground, pinning him with her heel. A drop of red wells under the sharp point and I don’t feel an ounce of sympathy. He deserves worse.
“He was fourteen.” She pushes harder and he gurgles a plea. “Did you know his mother was killed? That he was abused by his father?” Her eyes find mine in the crowd and hold them. “No, why would you? Toyou, he was justcollateral.”
My heart twists at her words. At how she speaks directly to the pain in my chest.
There’s a brief pause before Killian drops a blade into her palm. “With this blood, we honor the old, we bless the new.” She slices, a fluid strike, severing Julian’s throat. The cut is sodeep, blood sprays those close to the gore and a murmur releases around us.
I wrap an arm around Collins’ waist, expecting her trembling, but instead, she’s ice cold. Like she’s used to this brutality.
Maeve drops the knife to the floor. “Let the voting begin.”
16
COLLINS
Transfixed, I watch the blood smear into the ground as two men drag the corpse away. The red is stark against the blue slate tile and I swallow, pushing the unneeded memories of seeing so much blood spilled in one setting. Instead, I look up at Maeve, sitting on her throne, a ghoul waiting to pass judgement.
But this is clan life. Order found through violence. Pops taught me that. Seeing Maeve, it’s hard to shake the feeling of seeing his presence, hovering over her shoulder. She’d make him proud.
It’s difficult to allow this image—of the daughter my father forged—with the sister who made sure we always had dinner, who made sure our homework was finished nightly.
Realistically, I knew this side of her existed. Men actively flinch when she walks by.
Seeing her deranged, with drops of red covering her cheek and neck, almost makes me feel closer to her. Both of us tainted from this world—except she shows everyone hers. I keep mine hidden.
Hayes’ arm is still holding me and I don’t hate it. Glancing up at him, I take in the unfamiliar expression as he stares at the spot the man was killed.
“Did you know him?” I ask. The room buzzes from the fresh kill, noises pounding into my ears.
“I did.” He blinks once, emotions locked away. “Everyone knew Roman’s little brother.”
