Chapter 29
Syneca
When you feel the fire rising in your marrow and know your time is ending, do not fight the flames. I learned this too late: resistance only makes the burning last longer.
Iwalked down the corridor with a towel wrapped around my wet hair, still dripping onto the shoulders of my shirt. The bath had been necessary, washing away the smell from that awful house, the fear, and the growing certainty that everything I thought I knew was a lie.
I couldn’t quite accept it, though. Because if Vitoria were helping witches at the docks, she would have told me. I was sure of it. About as sure as I was that she’d lied straight to my face about her parents. So, maybe Calder was right, and she just wasn’t the person I thought she was. Did she deserve to die for helping witches escape the Magistrate though?
Absolutely fucking not. But clearly there was far more to the story.
Wickett appeared from the opposite end of the hall, boots caked with mud. He must have been down with Timber,probably the only thing he could think to do while waiting for the games to start if he wanted to avoid a certain government head.
The distance between us was eaten up by his long strides, his eyes never leaving mine. This was the first time we’d been alone since breaking into the Chancellery, and I wasn’t sure either of us was ready to confront whatever had stirred between us that night.
It had meant nothing, just nerves and danger tangled up in the dark, a moment that felt bigger than it was because we’d both thought we might be caught. That was all. It had to be. Now, there was only the mission, the work, and the space I needed to make sure stayed between us.
“Morning games start soon,” Wickett said.
Great. We were on the same page. Keeping it professional.
“We’ve got decent seats this time,” he said, probing me for a response with the faintest hint of a smile.
There was something there though. A crack in the facade. The tiniest bit of lightness beyond the mask of the famous Ripper.
I narrowed my eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were looking forward to it. That’s awfully surprising for a hunter, Wickett Veyne.”
“It’s one of the few things my father hasn’t ruined.” The lightness on his face dimmed slightly. “Of course I’m looking forward to it.”
I’d sat in front of him at the last Nexus game, terrified he could feel my fear. Convinced he’d see through every lie, every carefully constructed piece of my false life. Worried he’d remembered holding me against him in the Bloodwood. The weight of his presence behind me at the games had been suffocating, inescapable, and he’d just been enjoying the game. He was actually a... fan. Helikedsomething. And, for somereason, knowing that secret felt like I’d just won a battle with him.
I started wringing my curls out with the towel, leaning into his secret, eager for more of the man behind the legend. “What’s so appealing about watching people beat each other bloody for entertainment?”
“It’s not about the violence. It’s about the strategy. The way a good team moves with one mind. The way every single person on the team can predict what the others will do, simply because they trust each other. The split-second decisions that change everything.”
Decisions like helping your natural enemy search your father’s office? Like hiding with her instead of protecting your own interests? Was that what we were becoming: a team? Or was this more? Was this defiance?
His hand lifted toward my hair, not quite touching, fingers hovering near the damp strands. My heart pounded in a way that didn’t feel like teamwork, but something more dangerous. We had to work together, but trust? Trusting each other was mutually ensured destruction. We both knew that.
I took a breath, forcing myself back to the present, choosing to ignore how close he was standing. He was talking about a game and performing a physiological evaluation about a man who was trying to show me who he really was. Letting my guard down was foolish though. I couldn’t be the silent war against his father. No matter how beautiful he was. No matter how rare that smile was.
Keeping things neutral, I said the first safe thing that came to mind. “It sounds like you’ve been to a lot of games.”
“A fair few.” He paused, and I could tell he was debating giving anything else. “The first time I went, I was seven. My mother took me every chance she got before she...”
He didn’t finish, which told me enough. His father had come up plenty of times, but he’d never mentioned his mother before. Now I knew why. He was protecting her memory like he protected himself. With silence.
“She loved it?”
He nodded, eyes growing a shade brighter as he stepped back, leaning against the wall as he slid his hands into his pockets... relaxing. “She lived for it. She taught me how to read the field, explained plays to me.” His enthusiasm had turned wistful, but then he frowned, and my stomach fell along with his tiny smile. “My father hated that she wasted time on games instead of training me. But for a few hours, in those stands, I was just a kid watching Nexus with his mother. Not the lead hunter’s son. Not a future leader. Just... me.”
My chest tightened at the vulnerability in that admission. “So, basically you’re a secret Nexus nerd,” I said, trying to lighten the moment before it crushed us both.
He scowled. “I prefer ‘enthusiast.’”
“Nerd.”
“Strategic appreciator.”
