Crimson Dove (Institute Thirteen #4)

Chapter 1

ELODIE

It’s impossible to steady my racing heart as I zero in on the vials clutched in Thorne’s hand. My world stills and self-combusts all at once.

I can feel the eyes of everybody in the room narrowed on me, waiting in anticipation, but I can't lift my gaze to see them. I don’t have to. I can smell Rion, feel Kael’s natural intensity, sense Ocean’s trepidation, and see Thorne’s hands before me.

Their eyes, however, are off limits. If I see the same panic flicker through theirs as it takes hold of me, I don’t think I will be able to withstand it.

I try to gulp down the nausea, but I'm a servant to it now.

Just like that, the truth is told.

“They—”

My lips freeze, my throat clogged before I can finish my sentence as I gape at my fate laid out before me.

I can’t breathe.

Lightheaded and delirious, I'm moving before I realize it. My fingers graze over Thorne’s palm, sending a shiver down my spine, but it doesn’t stop me from snatching the vials from his hand.

Oxygen still fails me as I spin on the spot, darting toward the door with a ferocious sense of urgency.

I hear my name called from behind, but it’s like whispers in the wind, a fleeting breath as my pulse pounds in my ears.

My attention is scattered. My eyes are wild as I lurch from the boys’ dorm room and turn toward the stairs. In my panic, instead of descending, my foot lands on the first step leading higher up in Institute Thirteen.

I don't stop.

I don't think.

I just keep moving.

My feet pound against the hardwood stairs in tandem with my heart as my fingers achingly curl around the vials of blood. Step after step, I ascend higher until I reach a door. Unfazed, I wrap my fingers around the handle, desperate to keep moving.

I don't consider my surroundings until the door is swinging open, and I lurch when I’m greeted with crisp air. Sucking in a breath, I halt at a small wrought-iron fence standing between me and the fatal plummet to the ground.

With my free hand, I lean against the bar, bracing myself as tears gather along my lashes. Blinking them away is impossible as I dare to look at the vials in my hand.

One.

Two.

I whimper as my eyelids fall closed, lifting my hand from the bar to cup my mouth, trying to shield the sound from greeting the world and meeting my ears, but it's already too late for that.

The ache in my chest grows stronger as I let the truth settle over my body.

They are my parents.

Not Warren Blackwood.

Not Georgia Blackwood.

But Ellie and Odie… I don’t know their last name.

I don’t know my last name.

My heart hurts.

Shaking my head gently, I try to gather another breath, but fail miserably as a flashback flickers in my mind.

“You really should sleep, dear.”

The gentle voice tears me from my thoughts as I snap my attention to the left.

The woman wears a soft, tired smile as she runs her thumb over the back of the man’s hand beside her.

He seems to sleep soundly, but she’s been staring up at the ceiling for hours, trapped in her thoughts like me, I guess.

“I don’t think sleep is coming for me,” I murmur, mirroring her smile as I hold back the fact that sleep rarely comes when I’m so torn up inside.

“I don’t sleep well when my mind is racing either,” she breathes, and I nod in acknowledgment before turning my attention to my lap.

Admitting such a thing feels like revealing a layer of vulnerability that I refuse to surrender.

“Will someone come looking for you?” she suddenly asks, catching me by surprise.

Pain tightens in my gut as I shake my head.

“I don’t think they’d know where to look even if they did,” I admit, and her smile falls flatter.

“Have you been here long?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me like always.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize when she shakes her head, and to my surprise, the curl to her lips returns a little stronger.

“No one is coming for us,” she states, squeezing the man’s hand tighter.

“But we chose that for our family. A lot of us did,” she explains, making my eyebrows gather.

Sensing the confusion that nestles in my stomach, she proceeds.

“That’s how The Obsidian Circle works, especially Jude.

” Her gaze darts to the door, a flicker of panic washing over her features as she pauses for a moment, but after a few seconds, she turns back to me, her voice lower now.

“We’re all technically here of our own free will, but the alternative came with consequences none of us were willing to face. ”

“So you’re being blackmailed,” I murmur, and her eyes crinkle at the corners as her smile tightens, but doesn’t stretch with joy.

“Do you have any family?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“None worth mentioning,” I admit.

“Well, I hope that you get out of here and one day have such a luxury,” she breathes, looking up at the ceiling.

Her features soften as though she’s remembering something, but whatever it is, she doesn’t share.

“I would place myself here time and time again in hopes of knowing that my family never walks this path or suffers the consequences bestowed upon us.”

“Why doesn’t your family come for you?” I ask, and she hums, the sound lilted with something I can’t quite place.

“They probably don’t know we exist. But that’s the point of it, isn’t it? Sacrifice comes with so much pain on my end, but I hope for them; they’re experiencing joy, love, and happiness.”

I choke on my next breath as memories of Odie come to mind.

“Why don’t people just use their magic to get out of here?” I blurt, and he sighs, glancing around the small space for a moment before his gaze returns to mine.

“We’re here by choice, remember?” he clarifies, acknowledging that he wasn’t actually asleep when I was speaking with the woman earlier.

“Besides, the room is a dead spot,” he adds, and it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows in confusion.

He understands immediately, waving his hand to indicate the entire space.

“The room is spelled, rendering us all useless in here.”

I nod, but something still gnaws at me. “If you guys are all here by choice, why doesn’t he give you better accommodations? If none of you are going to run, it doesn’t make sense to keep you all cooped up like this,” I state, and he nods as if he’s asked himself the same question before.

“He can contain us better this way. Plus, it gives him more control over us. He can monitor when we leave, when we eat, when we shower, change, and everything in between.”

“That sounds tough to accept,” I murmur, and a smile ghosts his face as he looks up at the ceiling.

“It’s worth it when you know the consequences of the alternative.”

My heart sinks at the admission. “I can’t imagine,” I mumble, lifting my knees to my chest as I wrap my arms around my legs. “Have you been here a long time?”

“Long enough to hope it wasn’t all for nothing.”

The woman who is my mother cared for me when I was in the unknown, unaware of who I am to her.

My father, just as kind and caring, showed a level of love for Ellie beyond what I could ever imagine.

The complete opposite of the life I have lived.

But more than that, what aches the most, is recalling exactly why they are there. So their family doesn't have to be.

Does that mean so I don't have to be there? Were they unknowingly referring to the girl sitting right beside them?

Regardless, that's no longer true, since I'm caught up in this web right alongside them. What drives them to remain there, to stay under his control, is all a lie. They’re there to protect me.

Me.

Yet I found myself right beside them anyway.

Gasping, I pry my eyelids open and blink at the vials, still in a state of disbelief as my mind swirls.

I feel lightheaded. The desire to lean over the bar is overwhelming. Seeing the ground below grows more desirable, but I force myself to lean back, taking a few deep breaths.

Glancing around my surroundings, my attention falls to the sloped roof beside me on either side.

Before I can think better of it, I climb up, shuffling along and taking a seat.

Tucking my knees under my chin, I wrap my arms around my legs, vials still clutched firmly in my grasp as the truth settles over me in my precariously perched position.

My entire life has been a lie.

The swirl of possibilities within the what ifs and maybes render me useless.

What does that say about my past?

What does that say about my future?

I sigh, losing to my wandering mind again.

Dragging a hand down my face, I force myself to inhale sharply through my nose, holding the breath in place as I glance around. I can't quite see any of the other institutes, but the edge of The Vale is visible.

As sad as the view is, and as much as I don't like this place, it's still grounding.

Exhaling slowly, I try to focus on what is here with me right now, in the present, to pull me from my mind.

Another inhale.

I focus on the pathway that leads to The Vale. Doing so seems to calm my senses just enough for me to hear the whistle of the wind through the derelict trees that frame Institute Thirteen.

The moment I hear it, my ears prick at the sensation of something changing in the air.

“I know you're there.” The words are raspy and muffled as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

My senses are confirmed a moment later when Thorne steps out of the shadows, filling the space on the small platformed balcony that I graced moments ago. His eyes find mine, but I can't get a read on his emotions as he climbs up and silently takes a seat beside me.

He doesn't say a word, just matches my position, staring out at our surroundings.

My instincts tell me to push him away, to run for the hills so I can drown in my thoughts in private, but his presence is enough to warm the chill that threatens to burn through my bones. I have to take it at face value; I don’t want to be alone.

Not now.

Not ever.

“Is it just you?” I whisper, and he nods, peering at me from the corner of his eye.

“We agreed it was best not to overwhelm you,” he explains, and I instinctively clutch the vials tighter.

My bottom lip wobbles, and I hate myself for it. Choking back the emotion that threatens to overwhelm me, I clear my throat with a small sniff as I dare to ask the only person who has more answers than anybody else. “What are they like?”

The corner of his mouth tilts ever so slightly as he turns to face me properly.

“They are good people, Elodie.” I can't reply as a lump forms in my throat, so I nod numbly. Thankfully, he doesn’t take my silence as a hint to shut up and proceeds to offer me a little more.

“Odie was my father's best friend. I know I said that already, but…” His gaze shifts, glazing over as he stares down at his hands, a ghost of a smile claiming his lips. “It was always a running joke between my parents that they were each other’s soul mates, while our mothers were their greatest loves.”

Our mothers.

I choke on a sob.

His smile falters as he shakes his head.

“Their kindness was never questioned, and their love for one another shone in the moments they were able to express themselves freely.” He rubs a hand over his chest, lost in thought.

“I remember the way Ellie used to braid my sister's hair as she and my mother gossiped about God knows what.

The saddest thing is, I don't remember anything about you.

I didn't know of you, and as young as I may have once been, there is no part of me that recalls you there.”

I gulp, confused about what that even means.

Was I a secret to begin with?

Did they choose to put me with those people who scarred my soul, along with my skin?

Those are questions I can’t get answers for. Right now, all I have are the moments I've already shared.

“I spoke to them,” I admit, and he startles, eyes widening as his jaw falls, bringing his gaze to mine.

“You did?”

I nod. “They said they were there to protect their family,” I breathe, my heart aching once again at the fact, but my eyebrows gather in confusion. “But if my mother is a scythe, wouldn't she have recognized what I am too with my eye?” I ask, pointing at the iris in question.

The bright blue circle around my eye, now tinted red and leaving a purple hue, is unavoidable, and my mother was the first person to spot it.

“They saw that?” he asks, and I nod again, my chest tightening.

Thorne reaches out, wrapping his fingers around mine as he offers me a tight smile. “I don't know the answer to that, and I can't say that much of this makes sense, but what we both know is that where Jude is involved, things are always more complicated than they seem.”