Chapter 51
Mila
The tips of my fingers are whiter than a Q-Tip as I grip my paintbrush. “ I ’ m going to get a fresh bottle of paint from the supply room.” Why the hell did I just say that out loud?
Oh, thank god! Everyone has their headphones on except for Blaze, who is now looking at me. After everything we ’ ve been through, his canvas is still stationed next to mine.
I feel like I ’ m going to vomit as I glance at the door, spotting the four guards who follow me around tighter than the pair of leggings that cling to the curves of my ass. Two of them have their eyes trained on me, and my skin becomes itchy. The other two look out down the hallway.
A muffled noise turns my attention away from the guards as Blaze pushes around the paints in his tray. “ If you need a color, you can use mine.” His green eye search mine in the hope that our friendship isn ’ t completely ruined after that kiss.
“ I…” My eyes snap to the supply closet. Is Avery in there? “ I ’ d rather get a fresh tube.” I squeak.
Blaze ’ s face falls.
“ Thank you, though. Next time. I just need a break from everything.” Literally.
His lips press into a thin line before he nods, weary eyes scanning to find my guards. “ You okay?”
I nod as I turn to leave. I search the supply closet, but Avery isn ’ t there. Is she a mirage, a dream I had that never happened?
Ring! Ring!
I follow the sound and see a phone sitting on a stack of canvases. Ring! Ring!
Ouch! My grip on the phone is so tight it ’ s arthritis-inducing. “ H…hello.”
“ There is a set of headphones behind the fifth canvas. Put one earbud in your ear, and put the phone back behind the canvases, but don't hang up. Then, when I tell you to go back to class, go,” Avery orders.
I do as she says and shove the earbud so deep into my ear that I think I punctured the eardrum.
“ Okay.” I pivot, looking for cameras, but the supply room doesn ’ t have any. “ How did you know I was here?”
“ I have spies everywhere. The phone is encrypted. You can stay in here for another minute, then you will go to your canvas and pretend to talk to Blaze.”
My eyes go dry as my nose fills with the stagnant air. “ Is he helping you?”
“ No. Tell him you need to pretend to talk to him; he will see your earbud and know you ’ re on a call. Once we ’ re done, give him the earbud and tell him to throw it away for you.”
“ How…How do you know he will listen to me?”
“ Because he hates Dash.”
That ’ s true. “ But won ’ t he hear?”
“ He will only hear you talking. Thirty seconds left. You ’ re wasting so much time, Mila. I need to know if you decided.”
My shoulders inch up to my ears; it feels like the supplies are closing in on me. “ I need more answers, Avery. You could be an enemy, luring me away from my guards so you can kill me.”
She snorts. “ Trust your gut if you can still feel it, you ’ ve been letting your heart rule for so long.”
I brace myself, gripping the canvas firmly. “ I trust you. I want to leave.”
“ Okay. Go back to your canvas and remember to speak low and don ’ t react when I begin to tell you the details.”
I take quick, small steps, gasping for breath when I reach my canvas.
“ You okay?” Blaze stops painting. “ Where is your paint?”
Oh shit. I should have grabbed a tube.
“ I need you to help me. Pretend like we ’ re talking.” My eyes are so wide I fear my eyeballs might jump out to save themselves from this insane plan.
Blaze doesn ’ t act confused or ask for clarification. He remains expressionless, only his eyes moving. Bingo! The earbud in my ear has been spotted. Blaze knows I hate earbuds — they hurt, so I always choose over-the-ear headphones when I ’ m painting.
He dips his brush into the mason jar of water and swirls it slowly. “ Will this get me killed?” He mutters.
“ No,” I hope not.
“ Avery,” I whisper.
“ Don ’ t mention my name out loud!”
Oh god! “ I feel like I ’ m going to pass out.” I grab my paint box and lean over it. I ’ m not made for this spy shit!
“ Calm the fuck down, then.” Avery snaps.
“ Helpful,” I hiss. Breathe in your nose; that ’ s it. Exhale. Again.
“ I ’ m going to talk a lot, so I need you to listen and keep painting.”
“ Okay.” My exhale has enough air in it to dry the paint on my canvas.
“ Mila,” Blaze moans. “ I don ’ t like this.”
“ Just paint, please.”
“ You ’ re going to run.” Blaze pulls his brush from the water and then grabs a cloth to dry it. He looks ahead at his canvas with a stern, clenched jaw. “ Please don ’ t.” It ’ s more order than plea. “ I ’ ve seen girls run, and they never get far.”
“ Ignore him,” Avery growls.
“ I would rather taste freedom than the stale air of this cage, Blaze.”
“ I know you love Dash.”
“ But I don ’ t love myself.” If my words could produce tears, they would be filling the air with moisture. “ I need to learn how to love myself, Blaze. I need to find myself.”
He raises his hand over his mouth as if to stop his next breath.
I grab the tube of bright yellow paint and squeeze it out onto my palate. “ I can try to help you.” Blaze offers.
My lips begin to curve upward. “ I know you would, but I ’ d never risk your life to save mine.”
“ Enough.” Avery interrupts. “ At this very moment, Dash is finding out that his last two uncles are dead, and no, this isn ’ t a joke.”
“ What?” My muscles turn to concrete. I can ’ t react, so I pivot my back to my guards and act like I ’ m talking to Blaze. Eyes wide, mouth parted as a tear slips free.
His neck tenses, “ Are you being threatened?”
“ No,” I breathe too quickly.
Dash ’ s uncles are dead! Titan and Damian just lost their fathers.
Oh god! I know they didn ’ t get along with their fathers, but sometimes losing your enemy is as gut-wrenching as losing your hero. Enemies give you motivation and rules to live by. You never aspire to be worse than your enemy.
So, will Titan and Damian become more villainous without an example?
“ Please, Blaze, keep painting, so it looks like I ’ m watching you.” My lips tremble as Blaze begins to paint slowly, but his hand is stiff, and he ’ s not pushing the bristles onto the canvas.
“ Dash ’ s uncles are dead, and that means the power is going to be handed down to him and his cousins. Everything you thought you knew is about to change.”
“ How do you know this?” I ask. Blaze moves closer, but he ’ s only hearing fragments of the conversation.
“ Dash and his cousins were born into a powerful organization. There is no escaping, no running; you serve, or you die.” Sounds like she ’ s speaking from experience. “ Each founding family gets a seat on the ruling council. They call them kings or queens. This generation is all kings; no firstborns were female. Titan is the eldest, so he has the seat of the King family. Damian and Dash will be his generals of sorts; they will act as Titan ’ s eyes and ears.”
“ Do…” should I tell her? Fuck it. “ Are you referring to the group he and his friends have?” I know Dash slips away to hold meetings with Damian, Titan, Dante, Cillian, Anders, and Leo.
“ No. That group was a way to ensure they all met and formed a bond. Everything in Dash ’ s life has been pre-planned, even you, Mila. Your father ’ s entry into society was arranged, but he wanted more; Titan ’ s wife was picked out already, and no offense, but they would never let a new member like your father marry a ruling seat member, so it was between Damian, Dash, and Nico.”
Nico? I know that name. Dante ’ s younger brother! That means Dante has a ruling seat, too.
“What is this group called?”
She hesitates but then says, “The Rites of Passage.”
“ I don ’ t understand how you know this, Avery.”
“ There are seven ruling seats within The Rites of Passage, but that doesn ’ t mean the men have all the control. After shit went south in the past, a larger board of advisors was established. The kings don ’ t know who the advisors are. This keeps the advisors safe from persuasion. Their job is to keep the kings in line, to make sure they don ’ t abuse their power.”
“ That ’ s how you know all of this. You ’ re an advisor.”
“ No. My father is.”
“ But you are offering to help me. Wouldn ’ t that be hurting the cause?” My world goes black as I seal my eyes shut. “ That ’ s why you ’ re doing it. You want to bring down The Rites of Passage.”
“ No. I could never bring them down.” Her voice sours. “ I ’ ve watched far too many women in our world have no voice; our only option is fighting to the death or running. You have to be utterly hopeless to fight when defeat is inevitable, but some would rather die than surrender. I ’ m willing to die knowing that I helped a few of you get away.”
What kind of heart does it take to march to your death with your chin held high? Avery has that heart beating inside of her, hardening her flesh, deafening her ears to the fear that her future is bleak, but her present is full of pride, knowing she took a stand against The Rites of Passage.
“ Ask Blaze who Kristen Ferguson and Jacquelyn Vox are.”
I turn and grab my brush and pretend to paint as well. My other hand drums against my canvas. I ask Blaze and watch as his eyes dilate.
His throat rolls with a heavy gulp. “ They were best friends. Kristen was engaged to Ronan Graves. The Graves ran an organ trafficking organization.”
I ’ m disgusted by the professions people in my world have.
“ Kristen and Jacquelyn were in New York shopping for Kristen ’ s wedding dress. A dozen guards stood outside. They never walked out of the store.”
“ What happened?” I ask Blaze.
“ They vanished. Ronan tore apart the entire state and burned the shop to the ground. He never found Kristen or Jacquelyn. Jacquelyn ’ s family went to war against the Graves; they thought they were responsible and blamed Ronan for their daughter ’ s disappearance. The war got bloody. Fast.”
He grabs his palette knife and smears the paint all over his palette, mixing and mixing until the paint turns an ugly, muddy color. A thick slapping as the knife hits the paint floats around us, sounding like gasping sobs. His grip on the knife is hard, like he wants to lash out and stab my phone with it. If he could kill Avery, he would. That ’ s a fact.
“ In the end, the two families killed each other off. Worked out well for Kristen and Jacquelyn if they are still alive. Now they have no one searching for them.”
Blaze looks at me. Hard. “ Think about what you ’ re going to do and who you ’ re making a deal with.”
“ I helped them, and I will help you. They are both alive and well. They are free.” Avery responds.
I look down at the paint-speckled floor. “ I don ’ t want a war in my wake.”
“ The only war will be between Dash and you. Dash has cut you off from your father, and only he is responsible for letting you slip away. You will simply vanish.”
“ When and where?” Am I doing this? Yes, it ’ s really happening this time.
“ On graduation day. That ’ s all you need to know. A friend will come get you.”
“ I…I don ’ t know.”
“ You ’ re scared for me,” Avery states.
“ Yes!” I snap a little too loudly. I point to the canvas, faking excitement over what I painted. My guards eat it up.
“ I know the risks. You need to know yours. Dash will never stop looking for you. I can offer you freedom, but it ’ s still a cage. You will have a new identity, live in a small town, be safe, and make a simple life for yourself. No more traveling to big cities for fun, no more endless bank accounts. You stay in that town where you will be safe. I ’ ll give you a phone you can call in case of emergencies, but there is no guarantee I can come to help. I never know when my time will come, Mila, but for as long as I have, I will help those who need an escape be granted one. You ’ ll get a bank account that will last you a year if you ’ re smart; after that, you need to work. Can you do that, be utterly alone?”
“ I think that ’ s exactly what I need. I don ’ t know who I am. Dash filled a hole, and then he made it bigger. I need to put myself first. I need to understand why I allowed that hole to start. I need to live without being watched; I need to survive without a man.”
And I need to inflict pain because I ’ m not innocent. I ’ m angry and bruised. “ I need to hurt him for hurting me.”
“ If he ever finds you, then I ’ m done. I vanish. That means no more girls will have me as their escape.”
“ I wouldn ’ t ever tell him it was you.”
“ Torture has a way of extracting truth in various forms.”
“ He would never hurt me.”
“ Stop lying to yourself, Mila. He has, and he will again. Until he respects you, he will walk all over you.”
“ I ’ m ready.”
“ Mila, don ’ t do this,” Blaze whispers sharply.
I look at Blaze and ask Avery, “ Are you worried Blaze will tell Dash?”
His jaw clenches.
“ No. He owes you a favor. Remind him of that. Time ’ s up. Dash just parked his car. He ’ s coming to get you. He will keep you locked in the house, but he has to let you graduate per your father ’ s orders in the contract. No more cold feet, Mila.” The line goes dead.
Relief washes over my throbbing ear when I pull out the earbud. “ Can you get rid of this for me, please?” I drop the earbud onto Blaze’s easel.
“ You just put a target on my fucking back.”
“ Dash will question you regardless because you are my friend. You don ’ t have to tell him about the phone call. Even if you did, you don ’ t have all the details, which will only piss him off. So it ’ s wiser to remain tight-lipped.”
“ I am your friend. You could have warned me or asked.”
“ Asking gives you a choice. I need this Blaze.”
He snatches the earbud. “ I hope you know what you ’ re doing, Mila.”
“ I don ’ t. I haven ’ t for a long time, Blaze. I let a man heal me, then let him break me. I need to figure out who I am.”
“ What if you don ’ t like what you find?”
I didn ’ t consider that. “ I just want to find it.”
“ I won ’ t say anything to Dash,” He slips the earbud into his pocket. “ but I will tell you this: sometimes we surround ourselves with evil because it makes us feel like we ’ re good. Our deeds are never as dark as those close to us; we can sleep at night. Separate yourself from that scale, and you might find that the monster inside of you should have stayed hidden.”
“ Do…do you think I ’ m a bad person?”
“ I think everyone is bad and good combined, Mila. Look at our world. You love a monster; that ’ s noble of you. You put yourself last; that ’ s evil to your soul; you ’ re going to run; that ’ s both heroic and destructive. You ’ re both, and so am I.”
“ I…”
Blaze and I look atthe door. Loud steps rush down the hall. Dash storms through the door, talking to the guards, but his eyes connect with mine. He ’ s ghostly white, and as soon as our eyes clash, some color rushes back to his cheeks.
“ He doesn ’ t know,” I pivot to Blaze.
“ He ’ s angry as fuck.” Blaze mutters, stepping back and making the space between us bigger. His hand slips into the pocket with the earbud.
“ He ’ s angry because his uncle just died.”
“ What!” Blaze gasps but stops when Dash reaches my easel.
“ We ’ re leaving,” Dash grunts, grabbing my hand and tugging me away so fast I can ’ t even say goodbye to Blaze.
My body shudders with warmth as Dash guides me down the hall. His touch always burned; that fire was welcomed when we first met. I was numb, and he chipped away all the ice with his heat.
But then he kept burning me—new flesh and all—leaving me with scars carved out by his twisted, deformed love.