Page 28 of The City Of Fractured Memory

I’ve so rarely ever lost my temper, mostly thanks to my magic hacking away at my emotions, but now I’ve done it multiple times in the last two days alone. My heart hammers relentlessly in my chest as the truth hangs out in the open like a blade at our throats. My recklessness has torn Stryx’s secret from the shadows, stripping my friend of the anonymity we have fought so desperately hard to keep. I can feel Riven’s piercing green eyes on us, an inevitable storm gathering in the silence. His hand twitches at his side, as if caught between violence and restraint. He takes a step forward, the weight of his presence filling the narrow space, and for a terrifying heartbeat I think he might end us all right here.

But Xavier moves first. He steps in front of Stryx and me, his broad frame a wall of defiance between us and the murderous Governor.

“Not this time,” Xavier says, his voice low but firm.

I bristle instinctively. Regardless of our conversation a mere ten minutes ago, he still has to be the knight in shining armour, like I can’t hold my own. I open my mouth to snap, to tell him to get out of my way and let the women deal with it for once, but as he looks back at me I see the flicker of something rare in his expression. Regret.

“I know you hate when I do this,” he says quietly, returning his gaze to Riven, who studies us with a tilt of his head. “But I can’t stand by and let him hurt you.”

I clench my jaw, a thousand retorts burning on my tongue, but none of them come. For once, I can’t bring myself to shove his protection away. Not when Stryx is still exposed, when Riven stands like a predator poised to strike. Just like Xavier predicted back at the Division– my recklessness has finally come back to bite me, and now I’ve put Stryx in danger. So I swallow my pride, begrudgingly admitting to myself that this once, just this once, I don’t mind his shield.

We need a way out, not another corpse to mourn.

Xavier straightens, his voice harder now as he addresses Riven directly. “Here’s the deal. I won’t arrest you, at least, not now. In return, you’re going to let us walk away, and forget you ever saw Stryx. That’s the only choice you’ve got.”

The words hang between us and I hold my breath, waiting to see if Riven will let us leave, or if we will have to carve our way out with blood.

Riven’s gaze flicks between us, casting over my left shoulder briefly before settling on me, as though Xavier’s words haven’t even registered. His eyes are sharp, almost luminous in the dim light, and the faint curl of his mouth is neither a smile nor a sneer, but something far more unsettling. Pity.

“You think you’re walking away,” he murmurs to me, like we are the only ones in the room. “But you can’t escape this. Your path has already been set.”

I stiffen, heat crawling across the back of my neck. His words make no sense and yet feel heavy all the same.

Riven tilts his head again, studying me in that unnerving way of his. “Careful who you trust, detective. The fog doesn’t just blind, it hides. And when it clears, it won’t be me you fear.”

The knife glints once as he lets it fall to his side, the threat lessened but the danger no less palpable. His eyes linger on me, an unspoken message simmering in their depths, before he steps back into the shadows as though he was never here at all.

I exhale shakily, only now realising I’ve been holding my breath. Xavier still stands firm before us, his arm slightly outstretched as if to shield us from a ghost. But despite my anger, my grief, despite the fact that my friend now lies at my feet in a pool of his own blood, all I can think about is the weight of Riven’s words echoing in my skull, words that feel less like a warning and more like a prophecy.

Fifteen

We enter the apartment, breathless from our haste, Xavier having thrown his overcoat on Stryx so she could escape with her head covered to avoid any unwanted attention.

“He needs to die–”

“What in the Voyd did he mean about a curse?” I demand, interrupting Xavier as we talk over each other the moment the door shuts behind us. There’s a pause, then as one we turn to Stryx, the real priority making itself clear.

She shuffles her bare feet uncomfortably, staring at the floor, her previous defiance now dormant as she avoids eye contact.

“I—I’ll be up on the roof. I need some air,” she says in a small voice, her ears pressing back against her head.

I consider arguing, but I realise it may be best to have this conversation without her present, so I nod encouragingly before stepping forward to wrap my arms around her.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into her hair, and her grip on me tightens before she pulls back and looks me in the eye.

“Don’t be,” she says firmly, her determination returning. “You are my friend and you were in danger. I’ll never regret helping you.”

“Xavier was right. I’ve been so blinded by trying to solve this case, trying to get my job back. It’s made me reckless, and now⁠—”

“Stop. It is done. Mother Scath has decided my fate, now we shall see how the leaves fall.”

She walks out the door before I can question her cryptic statement, and I turn back to Xavier who stands staring at the door, like he can still see Stryx through it. He slowly turns back to me, but I make sure he doesn’t speak first.

“I will not tell you anything about her until you tell me what Riven meant back there,” I growl. “What has he done to you to make you hate him so? We’ve known each other for more than two decades and you’ve never mentioned him once.”

I try to hide the hurt from my voice, but it’s hard. We never hide our secrets from each other—Stryx being the only exception—but I’m already sensing this is something monumental he’s been hiding from me.

“He’s a murderer, Octavia, did that somehow escape your attention?” he snaps back, and I recoil slightly before I compose myself, grief flooding through me anew at the untimely death of my old friend.