Sadie made a heart with her hands and blew me a kiss as she disappeared back into the crowd of students. I watched her go for a long moment.
Fear made my heart thump painfully in my chest.
Steel eyes widened at the expression on my face. Malum made a strangled noise as he looked down at me. “I know I overreacted, but I don’t like how she—”
I cut him off and said roughly, “My loyalties will always be to her.” I turned away from the kings and threw myself into the crowd.
Sadie accepted me for who I was, and I accepted her. We always stood up for each other. That was how true loyalty worked.
Bodies pushed and shoved as everyone moved in a frenzy.
Where we were running to, I didn’t know.
I bumped against the wall.
Orion yanked me roughly to the side, and I tasted ozone on my tongue. Lightning struck inches from my skin.
A missed opportunity.
To feel something.
“Be careful,” Malum snapped as he manhandled both Orion and me into our room.
Inside the bedroom, seconds crawled by like eons.
I paced back and forth. Stared at the door.
Waited.
When Lothaire finally entered, I stopped breathing. Immediate lung collapse.
Clammy sweat poured from my pits.
I bounced on my feet.
Lothaire’s lips moved, and it took my brain a second to pick up the noise. “The gods have changed the rules for the final competition.” His posture gave nothing away.
Different is good.
Lothaire inhaled and breathed out heavily. “Each team captain will choose who competes for their legion.”
I rocked back on my heels with relief. Most of my teammates were healthy, and even the demons had mostly recovered. I was clearly the worst choice.
Thank the sun god.
My head spun with lightness.
“However, there’s a catch,” Lothaire said quietly.
Time froze.
My stomach plummeted, and foreboding slammed into me.
Nothing else had to be said.
I knew.
I was doomed.
The haze crept over me, and all the colors dimmed.
Lothaire stared at the wall as he spoke. “The gods have given two teammates for each captain to choose between.” He turned to Malum. “You must select one of them.”
My hands trembled as I shoved my pipe between my lips.
John shuffled closer.
I took a step away from him.
Lothaire said quietly, “You must choose between Arabella and Orion.”
His words echoed like a gunshot.
Seven words. Seven bullets. I took each one to the chest.
No time to dodge.
The trembling in my hands became a full shake, and I pushed my fingers against my bruised eyes.
Everything went white.
Lothaire said something else, but I’d stopped listening. There was a commotion around me, and I barely registered it.
Nothing mattered anymore.
If it were anyone else, I might have had a chance.
Orion was Malum’s world.
A few days ago, Malum had lost control and nearly killed us all because he thought his mates were in danger.
This wasn’t a choice for our captain.
I’d never had a chance.
Someone jostled against me and knocked my fingers from my eyes.
The room was in shambles.
Lothaire was gone.
The wingback chair was tipped over and lying on the other side of the room. Scorpius restrained Orion, who was bucking and punching, trying to break his hold.
Malum was covered in flames, and his expression was devastated. Like someone had died. John and Vegar gestured wildly at him as they yelled.
He didn’t argue back.
Amid the chaos, Zenith stood still and stared at me.
I stared back.
The demon’s lips curled down in the smallest frown.
I scoffed and inhaled smoke. I didn’t need his pity.
Bang. Crash. Scorpius flung Orion against the wall, then slapped a hand over his mouth.
A muffled, high-pitched sound burned my ears.
Scorpius pressed both his hands against Orion’s mouth. Then the blind devil reared his fist back and knocked out his mate with a well-placed blow to the temple.
Orion slumped forward, and Scorpius caught him.
Shit. I’d never thought I’d see the day they hurt each other.
Across the room, darkness expanded in the air around John as he took a step forward and jammed his pointer finger against Malum’s chest.
Flames sizzled as the edge of Malum’s sleeve caught fire.
“Let’s go,” I said through chapped lips.
No one listened.
I fisted my hands. “Everyone, stop!”
The men stilled and turned to me.
“I know I’m fighting.” My voice cracked. “We need to go before I’m late.”
I stalked toward the door.
“Aran,” John said at the same time Malum said, “Arabella,” and they moved in front of me to block my path.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
I pulled my shoulders back. Face blank. Eyes dead.
Malum opened his mouth.
I held my hand up to his face and looked away because I didn’t need him to give me some weak excuse.
I knew the score.
Malum’s jaw closed with a click, and he looked away from me. Pink stained the tops of his cheekbones, and he fisted his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Pain scoured my chest like I’d been stabbed.
I expected it, but still. Wow. Disappointment washed over me because he was so predictable.
So much for him saying he was sorry. So much for him washing my hair in the shower. So much for holding my hand as I lay limp in pain. So much for pretending he was different.
So much for taking care of me.
Men were all the same.
Empty. Promises.
I slammed my shoulder into his as I walked past.
In the hall lightning streaked down in quick succession like it was punctuating the uselessness of the situation.
There was a smacking sound and swearing as John punched Malum.
I ignored my teammates.
With a long puff, I blew out Horse, and he settled onto my shoulder in a cloud of smoke and wings.
He cawed violently. I nodded in agreement.
There was a reason I’d never liked Sadie’s romance books.
A man was no woman’s savior.
Never had been.
Never would be.
I stepped out into the storm with my head high, and I walked straight into fate’s cruel arms.
For the fourth time in a row.
Chapter 39
Aran
A STORM OF HORRORS
Metamorphosis—Day 55, hour 10
“Welcome, competitors, to the fourth competition.” Lothaire’s loud, enchanted voice warped and crackled as it filled the arena.
My eyes watered from the punishing winds.
I leaned forward, thigh muscles straining as I fought to stand upright. Hair whipped my face, and I wished I’d taken Sadie up on the hair braiding.
Across the field, a new one-story concrete structure sat ominously.
It was comically small compared to the towering posts it was positioned between. The new building shimmered with the telltale blue of enchantment, and it had floor-to-ceiling black glass facing the field.
It was a one-way mirror.
At least it wasn’t a window. The gods had spared us the humiliation of having to see everyone gawking at us from safety.
The students, judges, and the rest of the competitors were inside the compact structure.
Six of us stood on the outside.
Unprotected.