Page 55 of The Shadow Sanctum

The air seems thinner than before, and the rattle of the wood reverberates in my head. Luna would never sob in public—I know that—but I hear it anyway, a relic from the other night.

Too harsh.

Yet effective. Too late to take it back now…

I count to thirty before my attention tugs toward the coat. It’s freezing outside—not unlike the temps she forced me to trek through the last few days.

With a scoff, I fling the coat to the floor and lie down on the bed.

She doesn’t care about me.

She doesn’t even care about Thorne.

I am not like him, lapping at the witch’s feet for attention, whimpering when she swats me away. Pathetic. Pining. For a woman who will never love him, who will never love…

My eyes squeeze shut before the thought can finish.

A laugh follows, short but thick, with every bit of humor the ridiculous idea deserves. But my smile falls when I can’t hold my lips up.

I stare at the ceiling while a long minute passes, heart hammering in my ears.

“Goddamn it.”

CHAPTER 19

LUNA

From the day I could walk, Father spoke of the safety of the Keep. Where even a demon girl was safe, where locks would never be broken. My bedtime stories spoke of barred windows and watchful guardians, but despite this, it’s the forest that has always been my sanctuary.

Predators lurk and steel jaws lie in wait, but if one stays away from certain quarters, there isn’t a soul around to hear a confession. It’s safe in a way society will never be.

The Shadow Sanctum has never been more dangerous for me. But it isn’t the forest my feet carry me to tonight. It’s the treehouse where I first gave a piece of myself to Sawyer.

I sit on the platform, my bottom going numb as I stare out at the treetops that go on for miles. Clouds partially cover the moon, but its yellow glow is still bright and full. Too full for a night deserving of darkness.

How did we get here?

Things must’ve been good for a time. The Shadow Sanctum has held strong for generations, so there must’ve been a time before the infection where people felt true happiness. True freedom. Respect.

Was Father the downfall?

Was I?

The rope ladder groans as a person climbs up. If it’s a brother or sister, if the people have found me, I don’t hold my breath for them. Maybe that’s why I chose the treehouse instead of the forest—being found would be providential. Safety is reserved for the innocent.

But the climb is too quiet to be an outraged brother. Too graceful to be Thorne.

I don’t need to wait for blond, shaggy hair to come into view before the truth settles like a shamefully heavy weight on my back. I chose this spot because it’s the first place he’d look.

A low grunt drags past lips too beautiful for a man. Once Sawyer has pulled himself onto the platform, he lays my coat and scarf over my lap.

A thump against my chest—my heart leaping into my ribcage.

I don’t move.

“Thought I might find you here,” he says as his thigh grazes mine. It’s cruel how closely he settles himself next to me. If it’s a tease, it doesn’t show in his voice.

My eyes lower to the coat as I remember the shell necklace tucked inside one pocket. What was once a grand gesture is now a cheap offering. Meaningless. A thief returning stolen treasure.