Page 129 of Glutton for Punishment

Before Riven can answer, slow clapping echoes through the room, and every muscle in my body locks. Of course, he wouldn’t come alone.

Vex strolls into the lounge with his cocky smile full of silver, and I immediately want to put a bullet into his skull.

“Well, this is tense,” he drawls. “Did I interrupt family bonding?”

“You weren’t invited,” Valentine snaps.

Vex ignores her. His predatory gaze lands on me instead.

“You look tired, brother.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Vex,” I reply. “Get out.”

He hums thoughtfully, circling the table, spinning his gun around his finger like a child’s toy.

“Oh, I think it concerns me a fair bit,” he replies. “But how are you? Now that your little Wrath Queen went back to SinVail. She’s in…” he pauses, checking his watch, “her Faction Resource Statistics class now, right?”

The room goes still. I work hard at keeping a straight face even though my pulse spikes.

“Second row, third chair from the right to be exact. She looks so pretty in that short uniform skirt. Especially when she does her hair up in that messy bun, like she has today? My…that distance must be difficult,” he continues. “Especially with such a fresh bond.”

“Careful,” Duval rumbles beside me. “Any action against Arwen and the neutral status of this meeting disappears real quick.”

Vex smiles wider but keeps his eyes on mine.

“I’m just concerned. She’s so vulnerable. Emotional too, I hear. Being all on her own. I hear Atticus has barely said two words to the poor girl. Guess he dropped her like a sack of potatoes, just like you, Maddox.”

My hand curls into a fist.

“You know,” he says, putting his focus back on spinning his pistol around his finger. “I always wondered something about bonded pairs.”

He leans against the table. “When one is hurting… does the other feel it too?”

The air in the room changes to violence. Valentine straightens and Duval shifts beside me.

Vex looks delighted.

“You touch her,” I say, voice low, “and I’ll peel your skin off inch by inch.”

He laughs. “There he is.”

The door slams open upstairs, and heavy footsteps thunder down the stairwell. One of Duval’s men burst into the lounge, breathing hard.

“Sir—”

He stops short, seeing everyone gathered. Then forces the words out. “There’s been an attack.”

Every instinct in my body sharpens. “Where?”

The man swallows.

“Lower District Twelve.”

My stomach drops. That’s not a strategic attack. Mostly poor families live there. It’s a sea of factories, some crumbled down apartments and an… orphanage.

My voice comes out deadly calm. “Report.”

The man looks pale. “Dozens of children were taken.”