Chapter 26
Istare at the screens, my gaze darting between Xavier and Ben. My loyalty lies with both men, doubling my stress and panic. I can’t imagine living without either of them, but for very different reasons.
Ben has always been steadfast, a comforting presence in a life of turmoil. He’s my best friend, my confidant, and my protector. Or at least he was until Xavier Donovan came into my life.
Xavier might be the one person I give my heart to, the one man who could earn my trust in a way that I’ve never allowed to happen. The desire to be with him for the foreseeable future scares me just as much as the thought of losing him.
The sound of the door opening pulls my attention from the monitors, where the men in my life struggle to survive. Two well-dressed men walk in, their mannerisms speaking of wealth and power.
Edward glances in their direction and acknowledges each of them with a curt nod. “Gage. Kent.”
Gage, as in Eric’s father. I take in the older man’s dark blonde hair and aloof expression, but it’s his cold eyes that remind me of his son. As Raven would say, they both give off “bad juju vibes.”
The other man is a carbon copy of Declan. I suppose it’s the other way around, but he’s an older, more mature-looking version of June’s recruit.
Both of them immediately snap their heads in my direction. “Donovan, why is she here?” Gage asks. He nods toward me, his gaze sharp and assessing. Kent stands beside him, his eyes flickering between the two men, calculating and cool.
Edward straightens, composing himself as he turns to face his colleagues. “The bride is here as part of the test. Her presence is designed to add a psychological layer to Xavier’s Trial—a test of his emotional resilience and decision-making under stress.”
Kent tilts his head. “Adding personal stakes with potential psychological trauma to an already high-stress situation? Donovan, are you certain this won’t compromise the integrity of the Trial?”
Edward meets his gaze evenly. “The Trials are meant to push them to their limits. We need leaders who can maintain their composure and prioritize the Order’s objectives, even in the face of personal loss or emotional turmoil. It’s a crucial criterion for leadership.”
He stops talking to wave a hand at the monitors where the recruits are all hunched over the lab tables with beakers or other instruments in hand. “I shouldn’t have to explain to you that our sons will take our place on the council, but that’ll only happen if they can prove themselves worthy. This Trial, gentlemen, isn’t just about surviving; it’s about being able to do so under the worst conditions imaginable.”
Eric’s father smiles. It’s sinister and crazed, the exact expression I witnessed on his son’s face when he was choking the shit out of me. “Your viewpoint and training tactics have always inspired me.”
“I understand the necessity for resilience,” Kent says, “but you haven’t been fair in your execution. Neither of our sons were included in this addition to the test.”
Edward sighs. “You’re right, but it’s too late now.”
“If you’re going to fuck with the boys, don’t leave us out next time,” Gage says. “You know I enjoy the Trials, but with my son being in them, it’s the highlight of my year.”
Kent dips his head toward the computers. “Have you already begun the evaluation?”
“Yes.” Edward gestures to the two men and then the empty conference table. “Join me.”
“Should we invite Ames since he created the toxin?” Kent asks. “As the poisons master, he’ll be pissed if we slight him.”
Gage walks over to a chair and sits, resting his feet on the surface. “Ames isn’t a council member like us, so I don’t give a fuck what he wants. Besides, his empire’s earnings are shit compared to mine.”
Edward and Kent take up seats on either side of Gage. I stand still, grateful they’ve either ignored or forgotten my presence. I angle my head to keep my gaze on the monitors, while maintaining the trio in my peripheral. There’s not much I can do to fight them off if they come after me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.
“Let’s start with the identification accuracy,” Edward says, peering closely at a monitor showing a recruit mixing clear liquids. “None of them has been successful thus far. However, a thorough process of elimination should lead them to an answer in the next half hour. You haven’t missed anything.”
Kent taps the tabletop. “If they’re smart, they’ll immediately test for the rarer toxins, given their symptoms. If they’re brilliant, they’ll gather the clue from the Sanguine Solstice.”
“Remind me of the criteria again?” Gage asks.
The door to the room opens once more. And once again, chills skitter along my spine. Professor Ames stands in the doorway with a calm expression. If you ignore the blaze of anger in his eyes.
“The criteria is identification accuracy, the speed of administration, and the efficacy of the antidote.” He pauses to adjust his sleeve. “And staying alive, I suppose. Although that’s more of a ‘pass-or-fail’ grading, which is the ultimate goal of this Trial but also besides the point.”
Edward rises to his feet. “Welcome, Ames. Join us.”
“Why is she here?” The professor asks, his gaze narrowed with suspicion.
Gage waves a hand. “Good old Donovan has decided to use her to fuck with his son. That’s all. Ignore her.”
Yes, please do that.
Professor Ames’s mouth tightens with disapproval, but he nods and steps fully into the room, closing the door behind him. His aloof demeanor somehow adds gravity to the situation, a silent testament to the seriousness of the trial at hand. He moves closer to the bank of monitors, his eyes quickly scanning the images displayed.
“So, how are they performing?” he asks, his voice steady but carrying an edge.
Edward taps his legal pad with his pen. “Most are coping well. It’s too early to tell, although you can see how some of the recruits drank a lot earlier. Poor bastards are already showing signs of decline.”
Professor Ames hums in response, clasping his hands behind his back. He says nothing for a while before gesturing towards a screen showing a young recruit frantically mixing substances. “They must synthesize their own antidotes. Time is a luxury they cannot afford. Some more than others.”
His tone is distant, as though he’s talking to himself. The other men in the room must’ve come to this conclusion also because none of them make a comment. Instead, they jot down their own notes, the sounds of their pens scratching against paper the only noise in the room other than the speakers transferring the soundtrack of the recruits’ impending demise.
Ames takes a seat next to Edward, his gaze no less hostile than when he first entered the room. “The efficacy of the antidote—how are we measuring that precisely? Time to symptomatic relief or complete biochemical recovery?”
“Time to symptomatic relief,” replies Kent, who has been quietly making notes. “Complete recovery will happen with the assistance of a medical team, but immediate response gives us considerable data on the antidote’s effectiveness and the recruit’s skill in application.”
The discussion turns technical, losing me completely. I don’t even try to understand the complex medical jargon. In truth, my attention is firmly locked on the monitors displaying the live feed of Xavier and Ben.
Xavier seems to be doing okay, his face set in a mask of concentration as he methodically works on testing different substances. His calm demeanor offers a little comfort, but it’s fragile, easily shattered by the sight of Ben.
My foster brother’s movements have become sluggish, his face pale and glistening with sweat, easily seen even on the other side of the camera lenses. He grips the edge of the lab table, his breathing heavy and labored. Panic clenches my stomach, and it takes all my self-control to keep my reaction internalized and my face neutral.
The poison is killing him right before my eyes.
I stand here without the ability to do anything, the frustration strong enough to make me scream. And I will if either of them die.
Right after I’ve killed everyone is this room.
Or at least die trying to.