Page 176

Ezra follows them.

One second passes… then another.

Understanding settles across his face.

His hand falls away from Rhett’s wrist, and something ugly flashes through his expression before he can hide it.

Jealousy. Anger. Maybe both.

I’m too fucking tired to pretend I didn’t see it. “Say it.”

Ezra’s eyes snap to mine. “What?”

“Whatever the fuck you’re thinking.” I spread my arms. “Say it.”

“Sage.” My name comes out low. A warning.

Wrong fucking choice.

“No.” I step toward him. “You keep looking at me like I’ve done something wrong.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

His jaw flexes. “I am trying to keep you alive.”

“And apparently that requires judging every fucking decision I make?”

His jaw tightens. “I am not judging you.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His expression hardens. “You have no idea what completing the Hunt could mean.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think we know almost nothing about what’s happening to you.”

“Exactly!” My voice cracks through the space between us. “None of us knows what the fuck is happening. But somehow, every time I make a choice for myself, you look at me like I just handed the Harvest another piece of me.”

Ezra goes still.

Malakai steps closer. “Sage.”

I shake my head. “No.”

Because suddenly, I’m not irritated anymore.

I’m angry.

At Ezra.

At the fucking Harvest.

At the ribbon around my wrist and the marks appearing on their skin. At the dead women crawling out of the ground. At my friends sleeping upstairs who may or may not wake up. At every choice I make, somehow becoming another piece in a ritual, I never agreed to participate in.

All of it.