Seth Silver, Xan’s cousin. A man in the wrong place at the wrong time one too many times.
I had no idea what this was, but it couldn’t be good.
Deirdre Grierson, dressed in a long dark-purple gown, glided into the ring. With her back ramrod straight and her head tilted slightly up, she looked down her nose at me.
“These men hurt you,” Deirdre said, her voice slicing through the cavernous dark. “And they did it under a mentalist’s gaze. More than once.”
My gaze trained on Matt and Brody. He’d given both of them a second chance.
“Doesn’t that prove he wasn’t mind-jacking me?” I asked.
Deirdre grinned, all teeth. “Or he let them hurt you, so you’d run straight into his family’s arms. He guided every step, and you played his moves.”
My jaw dropped at the absurdity before I snapped it shut. And then it hit me—this manipulative woman twisting everything was Everly’s mom. What kind of world had my friend grown up in? The answer didn’t matter. What mattered was making damn sure Everly never went back.
I focused on the four men again. “What’s your test?”
Deirdre Grierson inclined her head. “Their lives. Their futures. All in your hands.”
I blinked. “Come again?”
Deirdre patted my head as if I were a child.
“My family claimed these four. We own them. You will decide how we use them.”
“Easy. Free them. All of them. Slavery’s a no. And Erick’s an Adler Michelson; how do you ‘own’ that?”
Erick covered his face with his hand. A dirty, frilly sleeve dangled before him.
“We found him exiting The Mile, all on his own,” Deirdre said coolly. “Finders keepers.”
My stomach turned. If this was a game to her, I wanted to flip the board.
“And just ‘free them now’ doesn’t show us anything, Quinn.” Deirdre gestured toward the men, her tone detached, like the lives of the people in front of us were of no consequence. “I know what I would do. Everyone thinks they know what the Architectwould do, so show us something different. If your mind is really your own.”
I bit my lips together.
Colors burst above me. Instead of the usual stat board with weight, age, fight styles, it listed the four men’s offenses.
“I never stalked you,” Brody said, looking down from the board. “I love you, Quinn. I just wanted to keep you safe.”
I couldn’t look at him. He had stalked me. He probably still was. Except he was sixteen with no resources and no way to reach me.
I looked up at the board and took in each of their lists.
Each one was bad and accurate enough that I didn’t wonder if Everly helped her family make them.
If Everly helped, then maybe… no. I stopped before I could start overthinking. The more I made decisions based on what others wanted, the less free will I had.
My heart raced.
I hadn’t looked at free will like that before. I liked it. I pulled my shoulders back as a layer of confidence filled my soul.
What did I, Quinn, want?
“I don’t know enough about this future,” I turned to the murky front. “But, Brody’s sick. Something happened with his sister, and now he’s obsessed with me. I’m not the right person to help him, but he clearly has a mental illness.” I clenched my fist. “In my time.” I scowled. “Well, in my time, I’d report him to the police, who would give him a restraining order, which he’d ignore, and after I kissed someone else, he’d murder me, and I’d end up in a Netflix documentary.”
No one laughed. I suddenly wished Chancellor Morgen were here. She’d gotten my Harry Potter reference.
