Thorne’s neck cracks as he rolls it, a succession of tense joints that speak to the day—and night—he’s had.
I watch his face harden and his pupils constrict.WarriorThorne.DependableThorne. MyfavoriteThorne.
“I’m on it,” he says, voice an octave lower as though he’s already stepped into the arena. It’s sick that it’s these moments I feel most turned on.
“Thank you, my love… Now go get ready.”
He starts toward the door. Pauses. Walks back to me. He kisses my cheek and rests his chin on top of my head. My arms wrap around him in an embrace that’s uncomfortably warm. He’s so large, so full of hot blood.
“I won’t let you down,” he whispers, planting one last kiss to my head before pulling away.
I wait until the door is shut before I fall into my chair. A sigh tips my head back. I reach into my pocket for the band of metal I found among Sawyer’s things, a green gemstone carefully blanketed on a gold ring.
Fingers stretched wide, I slip it onto my middle finger; turn it twice; close my eyes as I think about the man in the woods, holding our future in his hands. Silly words I’ve parroted since childhood flicker into my mind, and though Idetestthe idea of lying to myself…
“All is as it’s supposed to be.”
CHAPTER 9
SAWYER
The “arena” is not at all what I expect.
Luna’s arm locks around mine as we push toward a circle of sand, weaving through spectators until we reach the edge. I nudge the ring with my shoe and scan the tiny grains like they’re hiding blades. But no. It’s a sandbox.
A ridiculous one—circled by a clash of opposites. Cultivators in yellow, light blue, pink, even orange. Little girls twirling until their deep green skirts flare. Seraphs in white with bowed heads. Keepers standing stiff, arms crossed, eyes bruised with exhaustion and not a single fucking smile.
No sign of the fifth class, the Dregs.
You’d think a crowd this different would split apart on instinct, but they don’t. It’s light mingling with shadow—smiles beside stone faces, laughter against quiet frowns.
“What is this?” Luna whispers to me.
I open my mouth, but draw my eyes to a hole in the crowd as cheers slam between both my ears. Arms raise and hands slap together as Wilcox trudges through the hole. His eyes dance around the cheering crowd as if looking for a cue.
Another hole opens up on the opposite side of the ring, and a barechested Thorne struts through. No smile. No reaction to the cheers, unlike Wilcox whose lips twitch, his shoulders pulling back as the crowd begins to chant “one of us” (I swear to God).
I press my mouth to Luna’s ear just as Wilcox yanks off his shirt and twirls it above his head like a fucking dancing monkey.
“It’s an initiation fight,” I say, pretty sure I get the gist. “If the man on the left wins, he’s made a member.”
“And if he loses?”
If he loses…
Whatdoeshappen if he loses?
“He gets an ass kicking and thrown out of the compound.”
Her eyes flick between Wilcox and me. Hope doesn’t shine in her eyes—more like skepticism—but I can read her mind anyway.
“I wish it was that simple for you…”
“Do you?” she whispers. A challenge I accept with the saddest of smiles.
She faces the center, her back flat, chin high even as breaths saw through her nostrils at a quickened pace.Brave… but scared. Searching for wolves along the ring while I stand next to her dressed as a sheep. A disguise that would play offperfectlyif the Shadow Sanctum’s members weren’t obviously afraid of me.
Beside us, a Cultivator slowly inches away, flamboyantly golden bracelets jingling as he moves—head down, back hunched. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals more empty space. There must be three hundred people squashed together, but those surrounding us are social distancing.
