It’s dark when we land in Vitebsk. I’ve never been out of the country, and I was looking forward to taking in the unfamiliar geography of Belarus from the plane and car, but all I see is twinkling lights and shadowed silhouettes. It seems like there are a lot of trees, but it’s hard to identify details without the help of more light.
“Have your passports ready, everyone. We need to get through immigration and customs quickly,” Aydin announces and then proceeds to hand me a passport.
It says something about all the crazy shit that’s been running through my head this whole time, because up until right now, I hadn’t given any thought to the fact that I didn’t have a passport. I stare at the small blue booklet, confused for a moment, before I flip it open to find an unsmiling picture of myself staring back at me.
“Where the hell did this come from?” I ask Aydin, who seems to be taking a headcount of our group like the responsible chaperone of a field trip would.
“Lachlan had it made.”
Someone pokes a head out of the cockpit, and Aydin moves up to talk to him. I’m left staring at his bulky back as questions and a shit ton of suspicion surge through me. The door to the plane opens, and my concern over why and how Lachlan had a passport made is drowned out by my eagerness to get the hell off the plane and out onto land again.
The last third of the flight passed uneventfully, but there’s so much tension and anger floating around this plane right now that it’s stifling. I thought the cuddle party Ryker and I had going on would help the drama feel less stifling, but as the wheels of the plane touchdown on the runway, the grumbles, glares, and passive aggressive digs start up again. I blow out an irritated huff and rub my temples. The renewed bickering is bringing me dangerously close to losing it. I need air and time to figure out an effective way to deal with all of this shit, and as much as I’m trying to be empathetic and understanding, what I’m mostly feeling is fucking pissed.
Clean, fresh air brushes past me, and it blows back stray locks from the bird’s nest I’m calling a messy bun. I pull the air deep into my lungs, and I can taste pine needles and birch bark on the breeze. The air is cool, and a hint of fog kisses the ground as we step off the plane and make our way to a small building.
We’re through immigration and customs in no time, and the next thing I know, I’m being loaded into one of three black vans. I stare at the signs that look like they’re written in Russian as they flash by my window, and I peer hard into the dark night, trying to get a feel for what’s around me.
“How you holding up, Little Badass?” Aydin asks, and I follow the trail of his voice to find him sitting in the front seat, his denim blue eyes fixed on me from over his shoulder.
I didn’t pay attention to who else got in the van, but I’m surprised when I look over and only find Evrin and a driver. I let out a sigh of relief, and Aydin starts to chuckle.
“The boys and Teo are in one van, and Enoch and his group are in the other,” he tells me.
My brow scrunches with confusion at the name Teo.
“Your wolf,” Evrin clarifies, when he sees the puzzled look on my face. “Mateo Torrez, he told us to call him Teo.”
Understanding dawns on me, and I nod as the pieces fit together. I’ve always called him Torrez or Wolf-man or whatever. I never asked if he had a preference. I rub tired hands over my tired face. “What the fuck am I doing? I’ve marked a dude whose first name I didn’t even remember until you just told me, five other guys—two of which can barely even look at me—and I couldn’t begin to tell you what the fuck is going on with Nash, Kallan and Enoch. How the hell are we going to take on the big bad Adriel with this crew?”
“We’re not exactly driving over to his house tonight and challenging him to a duel, Little Badass. You have time to set your males straight and get everything sorted. We need to do some reconnaissance, get a plan together, and a ton of other shit before we can make a move.”
I snort. “They’re not goats, Aydin. I can’t just herd these guys in whatever direction I want them to go in.”
“Can’t you?” Evrin chuckles.
I shake my head at him and try hard not to let his cheeky smile become contagious. “Neither me nor my vagina are that fucking magical, Evrin.”
The driver of the van starts to cough and pound on his chest. Oops, looks like he speaks English. A smile breaks open on my face, and I’m surprised I’m even capable of the movement anymore. I’ve spent the whole flight over here being pissed at my magic and its inability to keep its pants on. Or pissed at the guys for being stubborn pricks.
“Just train them hard and get them all as ready as you can. They’ll work it out or take each other out. Either way, problem solved,” Aydin says casually with a shrug.
I lean forward and punch him in the shoulder. He laughs and rubs his arm and then bleats like a goat at me. Evrin and I crack up, and I throw my hands up in exasperation.
“They’re not goats!”
Aydin winks at me and then faces forward as we turn off the road we’ve been driving down for a while. We’re surrounded by trees just like in Solace, but the terrain feels different. It’s flat, and the air is heavy with moisture that carries the cold deep inside of me. We drive up to a large white concrete wall. There’s a dark brown gate that smoothly opens as we get closer, allowing us through.
My skin tingles as we pass through a magical barrier, and I shake off the feel of someone else’s magic on my skin. I look around as we drive forward. There are three buildings, all white with slanted dark brown roofs. The van drives toward the middle one, which also happens to be the largest. I don’t know shit about architecture, but the homes look somewhat French to me, or maybe European-cottage is more accurate. They have evenly spaced windows on what looks to be two-story buildings, and an arched entryway encompassing the front door. They look simple, sturdy, and at home surrounded by patchy grass and huge trees that hug the perimeter of the property.
Silva appears at the front door of the middle house and bounds down a couple steps to greet the van. Wind picks up his curly black hair and forces it to dance around his head. I focus on his face and the frown line that appears between his dark eyebrows, and the way his caramel-colored eyes narrow as he counts the number of vehicles that gradually pull up in front of the houses. The brakes of our van squeak slightly as we pull to a stop, and Aydin opens the door and climbs out. Silva opens his arms in greeting, and they both close the distance until they pull each other into a tight hug.
Relief spills out from both of them, and I’m reminded that the last time Aydin probably saw Silva was just before he left the coven. Evrin slides the door of the van back and steps out to join in the greeting. I stay sitting exactly where I am, not ready to abandon the respite of the solitude just yet. Valen and Bastien step out of their van first and make a beeline for their uncle. They hug and joke with each other, but the lines around Silva’s eyes are tight, and it’s clear he’s not as happy as he’s pretending to be that they’re here.
The rest of my Chosen join the twins, and Torrez slowly unfolds himself from what looks like the back seat. Immediately his eyes find mine. The windows on all of the vans are tinted almost black, and I doubt that he can actually see me, but it’s weird how his gaze lands on mine like that. I run the tip of my finger over my Chosen runes, aware that Torrez’s mark still isn’t among them. The five other guys’ heads snap in my direction, and I immediately pull my hand away from their markings, not meaning to have called them. Valen moves in my direction, but Silva steps into his path.
“Aydin, you shouldn’t have brought them here, it’s not safe, and they’re not paladin yet,” Silva chastises as he pats Valen on the back.
“I couldn’t exactly stop them. So I figured best to have them here where we can keep an eye on them,” Aydin defends, as Silva pulls Bastien into another hug.
