Chapter 18 #2
So I force the words out, each one scraping like broken glass as it passes my tongue. And the vow drops into the air with a weight that sickens my gut. "I will guard the Underworld with my life. I will die in loyalty to the order that raised me anew."
Kirill nods.
Fiona steps forward. Her hands lift and settle on Valentina and my shoulders.
Her powerful voice fills the arena. "May you always have strength when needed, wisdom at all times, and clarity on every path set before you.
We grant you protection by the order you now serve and weave safety around your lives so the Underworld does not lose what it has rightfully gained. "
Did she feel safe and protected when her head was almost cut off three weeks ago?
Humming returns, echoing through the arena. Torches sway, shadows twist, and the air turns heavier.
Her hands remain steady as stone. "Stand as shadows that cannot be pierced. Stand as pillars that cannot be shaken. Stand as two who now rise together under the order's watch."
Valentina doesn't move. Her face stays stone, and it freaks me out.
What is she thinking?
Why isn't she happy? This is what she wanted.
Fiona releases us, smiling.
Kirill raises his palm again. "The pledges are sealed. You are bound. Rise as council-bound, and serve the Underworld with unyielding devotion."
The arena erupts into a new chant. It rumbles the floor beneath our feet. "Onorath… Onorath… Onorath…"
Valentina doesn't move. Her expression stays untouched by triumph or dread. There's no spark of victory, just an emptiness I wasn't expecting.
Where are you, Minx?
I lean down, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "We're done. I'm getting us out of this hellhole."
She still doesn't speak or look at me.
The chant peaks, and my pulse hits the back of my throat. I pin my question on Kirill. "Can we go now?"
"You may."
I guide Valentina off the stage. The crowd parts, and I move us through the torchlight, ignoring the people. The second we clear the exit, I storm toward the plane.
It's waiting for us. I step on it, nod at the flight attendant, and say, "Evening. Please get us in the air," then steer Valentina into the back bedroom and shut the door.
Valentina doesn't move farther into the bedroom. She stands in her white robe, hands slack at her sides, gaze fixed on nothing. The overhead lights cast a muted glow across her face, and it hits me hard how young she looks without a mask, without torches, without a crowd demanding she perform.
She should be on fire right now. She should be drinking in victory. She should be grinning in my face and telling me she warned everyone she was unstoppable.
Instead, she looks hollowed out.
I yank the robe open, slide it off my shoulders, and toss it onto the chair like it burned me. "Talk to me."
She doesn't blink.
I take two steps closer. "Minx, what is going on? You got what you wanted. You have your seat on the Royal Council. You can make the whole damn Underworld get on its knees and chant your name. Why aren't you happy?"
Her head turns slowly toward me.
A broken woman appears, stunning me. Her eyes have that same dead-still distance I saw on the stage.
Gone is the Valentina who walks into rooms like she owns every breath inside them, the one who doesn't flinch when blades glitter, the one who would rather bleed out than let someone see a tremor in her chin.
My chest tightens with something I don't want to name. I don't do helpless. I can't watch someone I care about drown while I stand there with my hands in my pockets.
I move to the bed, pull back the covers, then unrobe her. I order, "Get in bed."
She obeys.
I slide next to her, lean back against the pillows, and pull her to my side. Her head lies on my chest. I stroke her hair and kiss her on the head.
A warm tear trickles onto my chest.
Anger fills me. Not at her but about what they've done to her.
I slide my hand up her back in slow, steady strokes. I press another kiss to the top of her head. "Talk to me, Minx."
Her breath shudders in her throat. Not a sob, not a breakdown, just that first crack in a wall someone has held up too long. "I-I can't."
"I'm your husband, so you have to," I insist.
She slowly looks up at me.
I drag my knuckles over her cheek. "It's you and me, so fill me in. Why aren't you happy? You got everything you wanted."
She blinks hard, then her face crumbles. She squeezes her eyes shut, and more tears spill.
"Hey," I softly say, tugging her closer, my heart beating faster.
She sniffles. "I don't know. I-I just kept seeing my parents. I-I don't think they'd be proud of me. I always thought they would, but not like this. Not branded with a scarlet letter and forcing a man to marry me."
The words hit me like a blunt object. I inhale deeply and release it. "You're being too hard on yourself."
She shakes her head. "I'm not. They stripped me over and over, and for what? So I could trap you for life and still be the only one in the membership with a scarlet letter?"
My heart sinks. I tug her over my waist so she has to look at me. In a firm tone, I tell her, "You didn't trap me. I agreed to this. I could have said no, and I didn't."
"Because I put you in this position!"
"No. You could have killed me the night they discovered I snuck into the fight. You didn't. So I owe my life to you," I admit.
She stares at me with glossy, rimmed-red, hazel eyes.
I swipe my thumb over her cheekbone. "You are Valentina Abruzzo O'Malley. You walked into their arena in black and turned it into a damn crown. You survived their trials. You outsmarted their games. You won."
Her mouth trembles. "I don't think I did."
My brow knots. "Minx—"
"That seat doesn't change anything. My parents are still dead. The Underworld didn't give me justice. It just took more of me to let me sit at their table and smile while they pretend they're righteous."
My throat locks.
She stares at me with that helpless honesty that makes my chest ache. "And now you hate me."
"I don't. How many times do I need to tell you that?" The words punch out of me before I can soften it.
Her gaze drops. "You're an O'Malley. I'm an Abruzzo. You said my name in that vow because you had to. Not because you wanted to. You were forced into this seat because of me. You resent me. I saw it."
There's a vicious coil in my gut. I cup the back of her head and force her eyes back to mine. My voice comes out rough, sharp enough to cut. "Stop. I don't hate you. Not even close. And I never want to hear you say that again."
Her lips part.
My words spill out with heat I can't throttle.
"I don't care what your last name was when you walked into this.
I don't care about any of that. I care about the woman in front of me.
The one who survived an arena full of monsters and still had enough spine to look them in the eye.
And that woman doesn't need anyone's permission to exist."
Her eyes flicker, just barely.
"Do you hear me?" I press.
She nods.
I drag a breath through my teeth, the anger settling into something steadier. "When was the last time you slept?"
Her eyelids flutter like the question has to travel miles to reach her brain. "I don't know."
"Try. What day was it?"
She swallows and shrugs. "Maybe three days ago. Maybe longer. Everything blends together."
Jesus. She's running on fumes.
I slide down in the bed, pulling her with me. I say, "You're exhausted."
She doesn't argue.
I kiss the top of her head again. "Go to sleep. Right now. When you wake up, things will be better."
Her breathing stutters. "What if they're not?"
I order, "Look at me."
She sniffles and obeys.
I wiggle my eyebrows. "You're married to me. It's only up from here."
A tiny smile plays on her mouth.
I kiss her on the lips. "Go to sleep, Minx. Everything is going to be okay. I promise."
Her body finally sags, the last fight draining out of her. Her lashes lower, then lift once, then lower again. In less than a minute, her breaths deepen, slow and even, the kind of sleep that comes only when someone is past the edge.
I stay still so I don't wake her.
The cabin hum wraps around us. The jet's engines rise into a steadier thrum as we lift higher, cutting through clouds and distance and whatever Underworld shadow still tries to cling to us.
The entire flight, she sleeps on my chest, and everything clicks into place with a clarity that sharpens my focus.
I'm on the Royal Council now.
The vow tasted like poison, but I'm going to use the seat as a weapon. I'll have access to files, names, and histories of every order that anyone ever uttered. Masks won't protect any of them.
They thought branding her with a scarlet letter and dressing her in black would shame her. They thought dragging her through rituals would bend her into something smaller, quieter, easier to control.
They're wrong.
I look down at Valentina.
She sleeps, her mouth slightly parted against my chest, her curls spilling across my arm. She's not tainted. She's a woman who deserved better than the monsters who kept taking from her. And now, she's my wife.
I make a vow that has nothing to do with loyalty to the Underworld and everything to do with the woman in my arms.
It's to whoever decided to brand her, whoever decided she belonged in black, and whoever thought shaming her was a privilege they had earned.
I will find them.
And when I do, I will take them down piece by piece, with the same patience they used to try to erase her.