Page 51 of The Shadow Sanctum

“So he’s avoiding waste.” Thorne lifts a shoulder, but he doesn’t mean it. His tone is confused. Overwhelmed. Again, I don’t blame him.

“But the girls⁠—”

“Are fine.”

“No, they’re not.” The last word cracks in half, like a clay target flying high before shattering with a bullet. Tiny pins prick my eyes until the moisture welling can no longer be explained away. No tears fall—not yet. But Thorne’s horrified eyes latch onto the fragility.

He backs up another step.

“I know they’re not fine because…” I suck in a shaky breath and step closer only for him to step back. A dance. A cruel one. “Because I’m not fine. I’m not fine, Thorne.” A tear slips, the first he’s ever seen.

It’s only natural he’d be surprised, but I feel a twist in my gut anyway.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been okay.” It comes out as a wobble, an admission not just to Thorne, but to myself. The air turns thick and heavy, like a curtain fallen over our heads. And suddenly, I know what I want most in the world:

For him to understand. Not as my mate or my partner or my equal. But as the boy in the forest, who would not cringe at the demon girl.

If there is a pure soul in this world, it belongs to this man. This wonderfully, beautifully, generously, whole-hearted man. Loyal and kind and honest, more honest than I could ever dream of being.

If he knew the truth… If he could see that in our unified mission to protect the people, we’ve neglected the most defenseless of all, he would grieve with me.

Then, together, we would fix it.

“We have to help them.” I take his arm. “You have to help them.”

He pulls away, slowly but forcefully. It may as well be the rug beneath my feet that he yanked.

I wobble backward while his face twists with something between pity and disgust. His lips half crimp, half frown. Creased eyes won’t meet mine.

“You need to pull yourself together,” he says. Calmly. The voice of reason. A doctor to a patient during a psychotic break. “If not for me, then for the Shadow Sanctum.”

His eyes flick at me, but they don’t land. He lowers his head, turns and leaves.

I stand in place for an indiscernible amount of time. I don’t cry—the pain is deeper than tears. A blow at the bottom of my gut that leaves me breathless and hunched.

It’s the horn that finally pulls me from my numbness.

Four successive notes drawn out, loud and low-pitched.

It means good news is to be heard… A successful birth. A child’s ascent into womanhood. Or…

An initiate has passed their test. We’re welcoming a new brother into the Shadow Sanctum.

Hand to my chest, I stumble forward and seek out my shoes, neatly lined up at the door where I left them.

CHAPTER 18

SAWYER

Angel’s and my return to the Shadow Sanctum has been … unexpected.

After waiting out the storm beneath that small cliff, Angel and I followed the river for two days before the fence appeared, and we came face-to-face with a Keeper on the other side.

As I called out to him, I braced myself for a dirty look or a grumble, maybe even a dreg rolling off Manny’s vicious tongue. Surely, a man who greedily sliced open my back and spit in the wound would be disappointed to see me, of all people, alive.

No.

There was a gasp and a squint and a trace of a smile. He pulled a small flute-like instrument from his pocket and blew a pitch that made me cringe.