The first day, Noah makes a comment, something half-clever about my silence. I don’t even look at him. Some boys ask if I like it rough.
The next day, Luca makes a joke, I don’t care. I don’t answer. More boys try to proposition me, telling me they’ll give it to me how I like it.
Jace watches me. I feel his eyes following me around. I don’t acknowledge him either.
And Tex—he actually tries.
“Isobel.” Quiet, pleading. Almost remorseful.
But I don’t stop walking. I don’t lift my eyes. I become a ghost moving through a battlefield. Not broken. But not whole either.
The only thing I hear is the sound of the laughter. That too-real memory of hands brushing past, words thrown like knives, and all of them standing there. Watching.
Someone tries to grab me. I turn around and break his nose.
The day after, the four of them linger in the hallway like ghouls. I’m determined to continue ignoring them, keeping my head held high.
Jace sticks his leg out, my hands and knees catching my fall.
“That’s a nice position.” Luca laughs.
“Down at my feet where you belong, Grace.”
Apparently, Jace has had enough of my silence. I spin around and punch him in the balls. He doubles over with a groan, his face level with mine. I grab his pristine shirt and bring him closer to me.
“Don’tevercall me Grace again,” I grit through my teeth.
I push him back. He coughs and heaves deep breaths.
“You’re going to pay for that.” He pants.
“You can keep throwing venom my way, Ravencourt. But it won’t make a difference.” I turn and catch the small smile on Tex’s face.
The torches flickeragainst stone walls, casting long shadows that dance like specters around the chamber. I stand at the edge of the circle, just like before, but this time, the space between us feels heavier. Different.
Lucian sits at the center dais, his fingers steepled. The others whisper in low tones, the hum of judgment in the air like static before a storm.
The boys are here too — the same boys who turned my life inside out, again.
Jace, silent and stiff, like he’s waiting for a fight. Luca, too still to be bored, too sharp to be calm. Noah, face unreadable behind his mask, but I catch him glancing at me and then looking away. And Tex… not looking at me at all.
I don’t acknowledge them either. I don’t need to. The room settles when Lucian rises.
The normal updates are given. Different sectors, different jobs, different missions. I’m barely listening. Right before the meeting is usually wrapped up Lucian gives me a look that I can’t decipher.
“There has been… discord among some of our initiates.”
His voice is cold. Controlled.
“Acts unbecoming. Lines crossed. And though we do not regulate personal disputes, there are codes we do not violate — even among thieves.”
A beat of silence.
“What happened this past week—the distribution of unauthorized material involving a Guild initiate—is not just a cruelty. It is a breach of discretion. Of honor.”
The word hits the room like a dropped dagger. Honor.
I stare ahead, jaw locked.
