“Let's go!” Joey’s eyes light up with mischief as he sees the rest of our faction heading out the door.
Most of the guys have the same amount of enthusiasm as Joey does.
But not me.No.My gaze hasn’t left Rory’s from the crowd. I wave him off. “I will be with you in a little bit. I need to handle something first.”
He scoffs. “Yeah, yeah. Handle something.” He puts up quotation marks and winks at his sister who walks my way, then he leaves out the door with the rest of the guys.
She takes a step toward me with a saddened look. We already said our goodbyes last night. But saying them and watching the person you love leave out of a door you can’t follow them through are two different things.
I take a step out of my formation and head her way, ignoring my name being called from behind me.They can all fuck right off.All that matters is one last touch from her.One last sound from her voice.
We close the distance in record time, and I thread my fingers behind her neck and press my forehead against hers. Her hands shake when they touch me. Just barely, but I feel it. And it wrecks me more than anything else.
“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers.
I kiss her forehead. “I don’t want to go either, but your brother needs me.” I remind her of the true reason I’m going.
Her soft shudder breaks my heart in two. “Come back to me.”
I cup her cheek and look into her eyes. “I will. I promise.”
We slam our mouths together in a quick, searing kiss and then I rush back to my spot before I head out the door.
We didn’t know it then, but that was our last day as kids.
Chapter 3
One month in
Ryven
The room smells like bleach and iron. I don’t know which one is worse.
We stand in a line, shoulder to shoulder, all of us freshly branded by our choices. Black cloaks hang too heavy on our backs, like they already know what we’re about to become.
Joey stands beside me, practically vibrating. “Dude,” he whispers, nudging my arm. “This is it.”
I don’t respond.
At the front of the room, a man in a teal mask steps forward. The color alone makes my stomach twist. It represents power. Authority. Untouchable. He holds a stack of folders. Inside each one are:
Names.
Lives.
Deaths.
Orders don’t come from us. They never have. They come from the council and by the time they reach us, they aren’t optional.
The room goes quieter than it should. Like a heavy blanket is settling around us.
“Tonight,” his voice echoes, “you will prove your loyalty.”
My eyes widen as a woman is dragged into the center of the room. Her feet scrape against the floor as they pull her forward. She tries to twist away, heels digging in, but it doesn’t matter. My fingers twitch at my sides. This isn’t training. This is real.
The man flips open the first folder. “Ryven.”
My name hits like a gunshot and my gaze finds the woman’s. For a second, I don’t move. My eyes still trained on the woman’s who look back at me like I might save her from this hell she’s in. But I don’t breathe, I don’t move. Because once I step forward there’s no pretending this isn’t real anymore.
