Chapter 29
“Hey, McKenzie. You’ve got some shit on your face.”
The sound of Xavier’s voice comes through the speakers loud and clear. It has my heart breaking and my temper—already pretty fucked from the council members—rising.
Edward jumps up at the exchange, making a beeline for the monitors. His gaze narrows on Ben’s cell, not Xavier’s. “Damn it! He’s already bleeding.”
The man’s voice is barely audible and I wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t standing so close to me. As much as his behavior confuses me, I’m more concerned with his son’s.
Xavier flips off Ben while tapping the space just under his nose. Why is he taunting Ben? Is he that big of an asshole? This situation is serious, and for Xavier to mock Ben for showing signs of poisoning is not just wrong, it’s downright cruel.
Ben’s expression carries the surprise sure to be on my face as well. He wipes the blood from his nose, and I flinch at the streak left behind. Beside me, Edward curses under his breath.
Is Ben going to make it? Based on Edward’s reactions to his condition, my foster brother is doomed. So, why would Xavier act this way, especially now, when every second could mean the difference between life and death?
“X, go fuck yourself,” Ben says.
Xavier’s smirk widens. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Gage spins in his chair to face the monitors. “Looks like your son is being a dick, Donovan. I approve.”
Edward folds his arms. “So it would seem.”
“Xavier needs to spend more time working and less time talking shit,” Gage says. “Eric has already figured out and administered his antidote. He’s the first recruit to do so.”
I flick my gaze to the screen displaying Eric Gage’s cell. The blonde stands next to the table, staring up at the camera with a triumphant expression. I frown. It’s not that I want him to die, but… No, actually I do. This Trial was a wasted opportunity.
“You know what that means,” Gage says with a grin. “He’s going to knock your son out of first place in the rankings.”
Edward waves a hand in dismissal. “That remains to be seen. Just because your son concocted an antidote doesn’t mean it’s the correct one.”
“Don’t be a sore loser when Eric takes your son’s bride.”
Gage turns his head to run his gaze over me in a leisurely way that makes my skin crawl. I stand with my shoulders back and my focus on the screens in front of me, ignoring him.
Kent uses his pen to point to his legal pad. “Based on the criteria on the Trial, Xavier might fall out of the top three if he doesn’t figure his shit out soon.”
“I have every confidence in my son,” Edward says.
Kent scribbles on his paper. “I think Declan might be in the clear for second place.”
Edward scoffs. “You run a medical empire. It’d be an embarrassment to your whole family if he didn’t get this right.”
“The art of poison, both its construction and composition, are complex,” Professor Ames says, finally joining the exchange. “You don’t give it enough credibility.”
“If you want to create an empire based on that, be my guest, poison master,” Gage says. “I prefer drugs. Although they can kill you, they’re fun. And they pay better. But you already know that, don’t you?”
Professor Ames stiffens and his lips thin, but he doesn’t reply. I watch the four of them from my periphery, in morbid fascination. What is like to have such power and wealth at your disposal? To not worry about anything other than that which brings you more of both?
Meanwhile, I’m standing here, with every part of me screaming for Xavier and Ben to live. Not only because I care about them deeply, but to save me from becoming Eric’s property. If that happens, it’ll mean certain death for me because I’ll murder him, and then the Order will kill me.
As the minutes tick by, my mind is a whirlwind of scenarios, both good and bad. Every sound from the speakers, every movement on the screens is amplified, making my nerves raw. I stay rooted to the spot, unable to tear my gaze away from Xavier and Ben. My eyes dart back and forth until a headache forms, but I ignore it.
My pulse ratchets the second Xavier fills a syringe. His determination, even in his debilitated state, is staunch, giving me a bit of hope. Except his hands shake so badly that I can make out the tremor on the monitor.
A wave of panic hits me when he staggers to the wall and leans heavily against it, his chest heaving and his face dripping with perspiration. Seeing Xavier like this is terrifying, more so than anything I’ve ever experienced. The fear that he might not make it, that his body could give out before he gives himself the antidote, grips my heart.
I will him to stay conscious, to stay alive when he falls to his knees. Finally, he injects himself, and a mixture of relief and trepidation floods through me. Relief that he’s managed to administer the antidote, and trepidation at the idea that it’s not the correct one. Or that it won’t stop the poison in time.
As he slides to the floor, the syringe falls from his limp hand, making me gasp. Tears sting my eyes, blurring the screens. I blink rapidly to remove my tears before the council members see them.
I check on Ben who seems to be faring slightly better but is clearly struggling. Against all odds, he gave himself an antidote before Xavier did. It’s a fucking Christmas miracle in September, but I’ll take it.
As I watch Xavier lying motionless on the floor, a silent prayer escapes my lips. Please let him be okay. Please let him wake up. The idea of facing the future without him… I can’t.
“Crow, get her out of here,” Edward says to one of the young men, jerking his chin in my direction. “She’s to be escorted back to my son’s dorm room and kept there until further notice.”
The member of the society manning the computers instantly rises to his feet and nods at the council member. “Yes, sir.”
My heart sinks. Watching through the monitors had been excruciating but necessary. It gave me a sense of connection to Xavier and Ben in their critical moments. But I won’t beg, not when it won’t change the outcome.
Reluctantly, I cast one final glance at the screens where both Xavier and Ben lie on the ground motionless, their chests still rising in an uneven rhythm.
The crow leads me from the room in silence. At least I’m far from the council members and Professor Ames. Although, every step away from the control room feels like a step further away from Xavier.
The crow’s presence is quiet, unyielding, a physical reminder that I don’t have any authority here. Each corner we turn, each door that slides shut behind us adds to the growing sense of isolation, of being cut off not just from Xavier but from any bit of freedom I used to possess.
When we finally reach Xavier’s room, the crow pauses outside the door. “You’ll remain here until further notice. Do not attempt to leave or contact anyone about the ongoing Trial.”
The door clicks shut behind me, sealing me inside the confines of Xavier’s bedroom. I’m immediately enveloped by the familiarity of his space—the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air, his personal effects, and some of mine that he ordered me to bring. But now, these small comforts feel hollow, the room a prison cell like the one he’s currently in.
I walk to the window, peering out at the expanse of the fraternity’s grounds bathed in the harsh light of security lamps. My mind races with worry for Xavier, and frustration courses through me. I’m powerless to do anything but wait.
The feeling of being forcibly removed from the control room, from a position where I could at least witness the outcome, to this isolation—it’s suffocating. Leaning against the cool glass, I force myself to take deep breaths, to think clearly despite the fear. It doesn’t work.
I begin pacing like someone in a padded room, slowly losing my mind. Cursing with every step until my throat gets sore.
Although the constant motion eventually wears me out, it does nothing to relieve my emotional turmoil. I can’t just stay here and do nothing while Xavier’s…
I can’t mentally go there.
I walk over and flop onto the bed, splaying my arms wide and staring up at the ceiling. Time, the most crucial thing in this life, drags until several hours pass with me lying there in a daze.
Until a niggling suspicion rises to the forefront of my mind. I sit up, leap from the bed, and rush over to the security monitor by the door. I peer at the screen, checking the hallway outside. The grainy confirms what I dreaded: the crow who brought me back here is still keeping watch, his frame rigid and alert.
Turning away from the monitor in a huff, my gaze inadvertently lands on the ornate fireplace dominating one side of the room. The mantle above it holds the crest of the Order. It’s a large, intricately detailed crow, wings spread wide as if in mid-flight. And there’s an additional decoration, courtesy of Xavier. It’s a knife, the blade embedded deeply in the middle of the crow’s head.
The memory of Xavier throwing the knife has my flesh prickling with both admiration and sexual attraction. Watching him toss that weapon with such accuracy, as though it was nothing, turned me on more than I care to admit.
Now, that same man could need me, and I’m not there to help.
I blow out a breath of frustration. Xavier gave me a beautiful, jeweled dagger, and I left it in my dorm room when I went shopping with Raven and June. I really could’ve used it earlier when dealing with Edward and his near assault. Here I am again, wishing I had the weapon to incapacitate the crow keeping me from Xavier.
I squint up at the knife embedded in the crest of the Order, and my task becomes clear. If the guard outside doesn’t let me out, then I’m taking him out.
With a sense of determination, I grab a chair from the desk, dragging it noisily across the floor to stand beneath the crest. Holding my skirts, I climb up and reach for the knife, my fingers wrapping around the handle. I tug on it, and when it doesn’t budge at first, I pull harder, leveraging all my weight until it comes free in my hand.
I almost topple over but right myself at the last second. After my near miss, I hop down from the chair, knife in hand, feeling its weight grounding me somehow. It’s a small, tangible piece of defiance, and holding it makes me feel less powerless.
All I have to do is change my clothes—and stab some motherfuckers.
I’m quick to strip from the dress, watching the material gather at my feet like a pool of blood. Damn, my thoughts are morbid, but what did I expect?
I don’t have a plan except to do whatever it takes to find Xavier.
And Ben. Right. I’m such a dick for forgetting my foster brother. I blame it on stress, because at what point did Xavier become more important than my family?
Or is Xavier part of my family now?
I shake my head as if it’ll clear my mind of the confusing thoughts. After putting my shoes on, I march over to the door, relying on instinct to guide me. Or it could get me killed. At this point I’m a clusterfuck of emotion and adrenaline.
I reach for the handle, ready to wrench it open. Just as I’m about to, the metal bolt shifts, unlocking the door. I jump back and raise my knife right before the door swings open.
“And who are we stabbing today, little raptor?”