Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Felix
Iwatched the village come into view, its quaint buildings and winding streets a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind.
As we approached, my thoughts drifted back to Palmer, her absence a gaping wound in my chest. The others chattered around me, their voices a distant hum as I retreated into my own head.
We were so close now. After years of waiting, planning, and dreaming of this moment, we were finally on the cusp of our revenge. The taste of it was bittersweet on my tongue, tainted by her leaving.
"Felix?" Talon's voice cut through my reverie, his concern echoing in my mind. "You okay?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice. How could I explain that in the midst of this crucial mission, my heart was torn?
That while part of me burned with the desire for vengeance, another part ached for the woman who had fled from us?
I supposed if I were honest with myself—and my brothers were honest with themselves—we all probably felt the exact same way.
Fortunately for us, we had gotten very skilled at pushing down painful things.
As we approached the village, my eyes scanned for signs of Sloane and Saige, but my mind replayed memories of Palmer. The way she'd always seen me. How she could see past the splashes of color and intricate lines to the pain hidden beneath.
Our connection had felt so real, so profound. I'd opened myself to her in ways I never had before, believing that she understood me, accepted me. And yet, she'd run. As though our time together, the intimacy we'd shared, meant nothing.
The timing couldn't have been worse. Just when we needed unity; when we were about to face our greatest challenge, she'd torn herself away. I felt raw, exposed, like an open wound that no amount of paint or ink would heal.
"There they are," Ash's voice pulled me back to the present. I followed his gaze to see a mage and a demoness waiting for us near the large oak tree.
As we approached them, I forced myself to focus. This was bigger than my personal pain. We had a mission to complete, a wrong to right. But even as I steeled myself for what was to come, I couldn't shake it away completely. It frustrated me, infuriated me, and my hands fisted against my side.
I took a deep breath, pushing down the conflicting emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
I had to get a grip on myself. Revenge was at hand, the culmination of years of planning and sacrifice.
We were the gods damned Exiled, and we were back—back in Besmet, and about to right wrongs that should've been righted long ago.
I hung back, my fingers wrapping around Ash's arm before he could follow the others. His skin was cool beneath my touch, and I felt the tension radiating through his muscles. The others continued forward, leaving us in a moment of privacy beneath the swaying branches of nearby trees.
"Hey," I said softly, lifting his mask so I could study his face. Those ice-blue eyes met mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "You don't have to pretend this isn't affecting you."
Ash's jaw tightened, a tell I'd learned to read long ago. "I'm fine."
"Bullshit." I stepped closer, my voice dropping lower. "She's Khol's daughter. Your sister, for all intents and purposes. That's got to be stirring up something inside you."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "What do you want me to say, Felix? I'm thrilled to meet another one of that bastard's children? I'm excited to see what other secrets he's kept buried?"
I slid my hand down his arm, intertwining our fingers. The contact grounded us both, a reminder of everything we'd been through together. "I want you to be honest with me. You don't have to wear the mask right now. Not with me."
Ash's shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of his burden showing through the cracks in his carefully maintained facade. "I hate him," he whispered, the words carrying years of pain. "Everything he touches, he corrupts. And now... now there's Saige."
"She's not him," I reminded him gently, squeezing his hand. "Just like you're not him."
His eyes closed briefly, and I watched the struggle play across his features. When he opened them again, there was a fierce determination there that made my heart ache. "I won't let him hurt her like he hurt me. Whatever happens, she deserves better than his poison."
I pulled him closer, pressing my forehead against his. "We'll protect her. Together. That's what family does, right?"
A ghost of a smile touched his lips, and he nodded against my forehead. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been the smart one," I teased, trying to lighten the moment. "Come on. Let's go meet your sister."
He reached up and pulled his mask back over his face, and we turned to join the others. I gripped his palm firmly, wordlessly vowing he'd have my support through whatever challenges lay ahead, and he squeezed back before we let go, our unspoken pact sealed in that brief exchange.
As we gathered around the oak tree, I found myself studying the pair before us. The demoness stepped forward first, her posture radiating strength despite her heavily pregnant state. Her eyes, a mesmerizing blend of greens, swept over our group with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
"I'm Saige," she announced, her voice carrying a hint of steel beneath its melodic tone. "Saige Wildes. And this," she gestured to the man beside her, "is Sloane."
I couldn't help but notice how Sloane's hand remained firmly entwined with Saige's, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin.
It was a small gesture that spoke volumes about their connection.
As my gaze shifted to Sloane, I noted that he and Ashland shared the same unique ice-blue eyes, a color so piercing it felt like they could see right through you.
Sloane's expression was a mix of stoic and grumpy, and I shifted my gaze to peek at Rhodes. The corner of my mouth twitched, and I thought they could've been twins with their matching expressions in that moment.
"Well, aren't you a delightfully"—Talon stepped closer to Saige, his hands before him as he rounded them, indicating at her belly—"plump little treat!"
I watched as Sloane's jaw dropped, his face a picture of shock. A split second later, a guttural snarl erupted from him, the sound reverberating through the air. At the same time, Saige burst into authentic, unrestrained laughter.
"Sloaney, settle down." She turned to him and patted him on the chest. His eyes never left Talon, not until her small hand cupped his face and she forced his eyes to hers.
It was the completely physical response that displayed how bonded these two were.
Sloane's body all but melted as his growls dissipated and his eyes softened.
Once she'd calmed her mate, she turned back to us with a wide smile. "Thank you…" she trailed off, waiting for Talon to give his name.
My brother removed his gas mask, leaving his hair looking as though he'd been electrocuted. "It's Talon, milady."
I blinked slowly. Milady?
Ashland snorted under his breath. He'd been oddly quiet.
"Oh no, none of that, Talon, get up, get up," Saige said and then added, "Thank you for your compliment, although I'd say plump is a serious understatement!"
"Red," Sloane practically growled under his breath.
Saige's cheeks reddened from his admonishment, but she didn't seem bothered by his tone.
Rhodes and Misha also removed their masks, but mine was painted on, and it was technically a work of art, so there was no way I was removing it—not when I'd need this war paint for well, war. I noticed that Ashland didn't make a single move toward removing his mask, though.
While everyone exchanged names, I struggled to stay focused on our mission, distracted by my growing interest in the pair standing before us.
Saige stood tall, one hand resting protectively on her swollen belly while the other remained firmly in Sloane's grasp.
She looked every bit the queen in her empire waist, deep pine green gown adorned with gems and gold embroidered vines on the skirt.
They looked so… opposite. Saige gave off such a calm and gentle aura, whereas her mate looked like he'd kill someone for something as simple as overcooking his eggs.
It reminded me of the differences between my brothers and me. Each of us had our strengths and weaknesses, our quirks and traits that made us individuals, but despite all of the reasons why those qualities should've made us enemies or completely dysfunctional, we just worked.
I studied Sloane as he pulled out a worn map and spread it across a nearby fallen log. His movements were precise and calculated, reminding me of Rhodes in an odd way. The similarities in their mannerisms were almost uncanny.
"There are five primary holding areas," Sloane explained, his finger tracing over different marked locations.
"The largest concentration is here, in the mountains north of Naryian.
" His ice-blue eyes flickered between us, gauging our reactions.
"The others are scattered strategically—one near the coast, two in the eastern forests, and one underground in the western plains. "
Rhodes stepped forward, his pristine suit starkly contrasting our rugged surroundings.
"We've developed something that might help," he said, pulling a small vial filled with purple liquid from his inner pocket.
"It counteracts the mind control, but...
" He paused, his expression grim. "We have a limited supply. "
"How limited?" Saige asked, her hand unconsciously moving to protect her belly.
"Enough for a three acre radius," I answered, knowing the exact number because I'd helped Rhodes perfect the formula. The memory of those long nights in the lab still haunted me, the failed attempts, the frustration, the breakthrough that came too late to save some we'd lost.