“None,” Julian replied.
And so it went. Maxwell would ask, Julian would provide the most boring answers he could. Maxwell gave him occasionalnods of approval as he wrote down his answers. When it was over, Maxwell set the clipboard aside.
“Out of curiosity, do you intend to have any contact with the so-called traitors?”
“No.” And he meant it. Associating with them would no doubt draw the guild’s ire, and he wanted to avoid that. All he wanted was to be left alone.
“Shame, but probably wise.”
“Why is it a shame?”
Maxwell sighed. “I regret the way I handled Alex Hawk’s departure. I remember when he was brought before the council last year. Our quick judgment set all of this in motion. I owe him and especially Isaac Morrow an apology. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to deliver them personally.”
That wouldn’t happen as long as he lived behind these walls, but Julian didn’t think that needed to be said.
Instead, Julian gestured to the clipboard. “Did I pass, doc?”
Maxwell smiled. “You did.”
“Will you get in trouble for it?” The last thing he wanted was for Maxwell to take the blame for Julian leaving.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. It’s important that people like you take a stand when no one else will. By putting your foot down and walking away, you may open the door for others to do the same. Maybe that will get Sloan to see some sense.”
“We can hope.”
“And pray,” Maxwell agreed. He stood. “I’ll take this out to Sloan. I don’t know what else he has in store for you after this. Hopefully he’ll allow you to go soon. Stay the course, Mister Heroux, and trust in God’s plan.”
MisterHeroux. Not Paladin Heroux. He liked the sound of it.
“You think this is God’s plan?”
Maxwell inclined his head. “I certainly don’t think whippings in the courtyard are. It’s lucky the children haven’t had to witness any yet. I can’t imagine how they’d feel to see such a thing.”
He departed with a shake of his head, leaving Julian alone.
Julian waited for hours.He didn’t dare leave the conference room without express permission, afraid Sloan would use it as an opportunity to declare him insubordinate, or worse, a traitor attempting to flee. By the time Sloan returned, he was slumped over the table, his stomach gnawing at itself with hunger. His mouth was desert-dry with thirst, but somehow his bladder was also uncomfortably full. When the door finally opened, he lifted his head but couldn’t muster any sort of urgency or respect in the motion. In fact, it made his head swirl.
Sloan sighed heavily as he came to a stop on the other side of the table, folding his arms across his significant chest and glaring down at Julian like he was a particularly bothersome bug someone had let into the room.
“It seems Doctor Maxwell found you healthy enough to make your own decisions,” he said curtly, and Julian wondered if Sloan took so long because he was trying to sway Maxwell’s opinion. “Due to that, I took the liberty of having all your guild-owned things repossessed.” He looked dangerously smug.
“Repossessed?” Julian rasped, not understanding.
“Yes. I’m sure you’ll see what I mean. For now, you can go.”
For now. That wasn’t ominous at all.
Julian pushed himself to his feet, desperate to get to his car and escape. He’d never felt so unsafe in HQ before. Sloan had already proven that he could drag anyone out and beat themwithout repercussion. If he chose, he could stop Julian from leaving, and the people would probably cheer.
Sloan moved with him to the door and put his hand on the knob before Julian could. He stopped warily as Sloan faced him, looking him up and down with a curled lip.
“You will regret this,” he said softly. “The world is dark and full of danger, and it will eat you alive when you leave us. You’ll rue the day you turned your back on us. And when you’re at your lowest, fighting for scraps with the rest of the world, I want you to remember this moment. The moment you chose to walk away from your potential, from your home. We may not be so forgiving if you try to return.”
Julian swallowed hard. Maybe Sloan was right. Maybe he would leave and crash and burn on his own. But it would be his doing—only his. There would be no threat of a whip hanging over his head for the choices he made. He had to believe that alone made it better. Maybe he’d struggle, but it would make his successes all the sweeter.
Sloan opened the door—and then held out his free hand, palm up. Julian stared at it, nonplussed.
“Your phone,” Sloan prompted. “It’s guild-issued. You won’t be allowed to take it with you.”
