Chapter 25
Delilah
“What do you want me to say?” I ask. “That Xavier loves me and can’t live without me? If you know your son as well as you say you do, then you know that’s bullshit.”
Edward lifts his chin in disdain. “Given his recent behavior, I suspect that he cares about you, which means he can be broken. I want you to prove that to me, bride. Prove that he has a weakness, that he can be defeated.”
“Why do you want to hurt him?”
“It’s about ensuring the stability and the future of the Order. Everything I do serves a greater purpose, even if it requires sacrifices. If he’s a liability to this society, he must be destroyed.”
My eyes widen. “Even if he’s your son?”
“Especially if he’s my son,” Edward snaps.
“That sounds like it’s your problem, not mine.” I shrug, the movement at odds with the emotions streaming through me. “I don’t exactly like my current situation as a bride, but after growing up in the system, being Xavier’s whore isn’t the worst thing to happen to me.”
His nostrils flare with disgust. “A bride will never be a crow’s wife,” he mutters.
I pretend I don’t hear the insult, even though I agree with Edward.
Xavier and I are not only physically apart but distant in other ways as well.
His upbringing is vastly different from mine, not to mention his financial and societal status.
I don’t think those things make him better than me, but they sure as hell affect our lives and the way we view the world.
As much as I care for Xavier, marrying him is unlikely to happen.
I fold my arms. “Like I said, my relationship with your son is purely physical. I’m nothing more than his property.”
“You misunderstand, bride.” Edward’s expression tightens, his frustration barely concealed.
“You are not merely his property. You are a reflection of his judgment, his loyalties, and ultimately, his potential weaknesses. Your role, whether significant or trivial in your eyes, impacts more than just your fate. It extends to Xavier.”
“So you say.” I roll my eyes, struggling to maintain my passive expression. “Me being here isn’t going to matter to Xavier. Trust me.”
Edward scoffs. “Trust a woman? Never.”
“It’s a figure of speech, ass—” At his glare, I snap my mouth shut. “I’m only going to say this one more time: Xavier doesn’t have feelings for me. Can I go now?”
“No. You being here with me is part of Xavier’s Trials. He knows I have you, but he doesn’t know what I’m going to do to you. It’s a tactic designed to rattle him, to push him to his limits.”
I jerk back at the thought of me being used to hurt Xavier. “So, this is all just to unsettle him? To see if he cracks under the pressure of not knowing?”
The council member nods. “Precisely. The first Trial tested his loyalty to the Order over his personal feelings. Now, we’ll assess his ability to maintain composure and focus under severe psychological strain.
We’ll push him to the brink to see if he still possesses the mental clarity to apply his skills effectively, especially in a critical area like poisons. ”
“Poisons?” My eyes widen at his cold demeanor. “What do you mean by that?”
“This second Trial isn’t just a psychological battle.
It’s also a practical one. Like the other recruits, Xavier is currently locked in a scenario where he must use his academic knowledge to identify and neutralize a synthesized poison.
How well he does, while distracted with concern for you, will tell us much about his potential as a leader under pressure. ”
The sheer calculated brutality of the test is appalling but not surprising, given the way the last Trial was executed.
I’m not sure if it’s the Order or Edward who’s using me as a psychological weapon, but I hate that they expect Xavier to maintain the presence of mind while under duress and handle a highly technical task.
I can’t be responsible for anything happening to him.
I’ll never forgive myself.
“Xavier will be fine,” I say, willing myself to believe it. I turn my attention back to the monitors, and my gaze lands directly on Xavier. “He’ll neutralize the poison in no time.”
“Your faith in my son is admirable, if it’s real.”
Edward walks up to me, continuing even when I back up. Once I bump into the conference table, panic rises in my throat at his proximity. He places his hands on the smooth surface on either side of my hips, boxing me in.
I lean back as far as I can, but his breath fans over my face. He smells of expensive whiskey and mint, a combination that should be appealing but isn’t because of the vileness of this man. I swallow, attempting to dislodge the nerves gathering in my throat, and his gaze narrows.
“I’m not scared of you,” I say.
Edward smirks, the contempt in his expression giving way to something more disturbing. “Perhaps not, but you should be. Unless . . .”
He brings his hand to my face, the gesture slow and deliberate. He clasps my chin and tilts my head up. He’s too close, his gaze too intense. I try to duck my head, but his hold is firm, his nails digging into my skin.
“Unless you’re willing to trade a recruit for a council member?”
I lift my head, defiance rising in me, even as disgust makes my stomach churn. “Not interested.”
“Really?” He lifts a mocking brow. “Because from where I stand, it seems that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to survive. I can give you more than a recruit and more than mere survival. I can make your life very comfortable.”
I slap his hand away and glare at him. “Go fuck yourself.”
Edward chuckles, and the sound has my skin prickling in warning.
“You don’t understand the situation you’re in, bride.
But you will. And when the time comes, you’ll beg me to spare your life by taking you to my bed.
I’ll fill every one of your holes with my cock and make you my whore, and you’ll enjoy it because that’s all brides are good for. ”
His words are a threat, a promise, and a warning. I swallow past the lump in my throat and straighten, lifting my chin despite the terror coursing through me.
“I’d rather be dead.”
“That can be arranged.”
He grabs my hair and jerks my head back, and I gasp at the pain.
He stares down at me, his expression hard while he uses his free hand to reach for my breast. I extend my arm, blindly searching for the pen beside the legal pad resting on the table.
The second I locate the pen with my fingertips, I grip it like a dagger and bring it to his neck.
“Let go of me, or I’ll stab you,” I say.
Edward flicks his gaze to the pen and smirks. “Then you’ll die.”
The crows manning the computers are already on their feet, alerted by the scuffle. The three of them have their firearms aimed in my direction. At my head.
“Do you really think you can kill me?” Edward asks.
I press the tip of the pen deeper into his skin. “Why don’t we find out?”
He glares at me, but there’s no anger in his eyes, just the same cool calculation. “Careful, bride. You don’t want to do anything stupid.”
“Then let go of me before we’re both dead.”
He studies me for a moment before releasing his hold on me and backing away, a smile firmly in place. “I can see why my son is infatuated with you.”
With a confident stride, Edward approaches the cluster of desks lining the back wall. The crows watch me for a moment as I sink into one of the chairs, my legs finally giving out, and then go back to the control panels.
The council member brushes his hand over the keys with a familiarity that sickens me. Xavier told me about his father abandoning him in underground tunnels when he was younger. Now I’m wondering if this is the first time he’s been in a dungeon.
“Recruits, welcome to the second Trial.”
Edward’s voice echoes through the room and also throughout the cells where Xavier and the rest are being held. The young men’s heads all lift at once, their gazes landing on the camera in the upper corner of the space.
“You are about to begin a test that will demand every bit of your training and knowledge amassed over the past three years,” Edward continues.
“Your task is to correctly identify and neutralize a poison, using only the resources available to you within your cells. You will have two hours to do so before the poison in your bloodstream kills you. Your time starts now.”
The room plunges into silence at the announcement, but the quiet is only in my surroundings.
Inside, my mind erupts into chaos, and my heart screams like a prisoner, hammering against my rib cage.
The cold realization that Xavier—and every other recruit—is now in mortal danger makes breathing a struggle.
A naive part of me still hopes this is just a horrific bluff from Edward to test their psychological resilience.
But the sinking feeling in my gut rails against the thought.
The council member wouldn’t hesitate to administer death.
He believes too fervently in the brutal doctrine of the Order—forge through fire or perish within it.
“Looks like they’ve really fucked us this time,” Ben’s voice comes through the speakers, followed by Xavier’s.
“Yeah, just another day in paradise.”
With trepidation, I watch as Xavier begins to methodically examine the items on the table in front of him, his movements precise and deliberate.
It’s clear he’s wasting no time in identifying the poison to find a solution that’ll save his life.
I want to get closer to the screen and shout at him to do whatever it takes to survive, but I can’t let Edward know about my distress.
I flick my gaze to the council member and find him observing the proceedings with clinical detachment.
His indifference to the life-and-death struggle unfolding before our eyes fuels a burning hatred within me.
Not only because of what he just did to me, but for what he’s doing to Xavier right now and for what he’s done to him in the past.
I wish I could’ve stabbed this Donovan three years ago.
Edward enables the microphone once more, and I stop breathing.
“Recruits, one more thing. Anything you consumed during the Solstice ball—every drink, every sip—has reduced your survival time. Each item ingested has taken approximately three to five minutes from the two hours initially granted. Calculate wisely. Mors solum initium.”
At the revelation, I slump in the chair. Edward smirks at me, but I can’t acknowledge him, not when my head is spinning. This cruel twist is one that turned the evening’s earlier festivities into a sinister prelude to this nightmare. Xavier wouldn’t let me drink anything, and now I understand why.
Declan might’ve accused him of being a paranoid fuck, but Xavier was right not to trust the Order. The test in the ballroom was for the recruits not to let their guard down. Under any circumstances.
My worry doubles. Then triples. It’s not just Xavier and Declan in those cells.
It’s Ben, too.
My foster brother has always been more reckless with his choices.
The memory of his dorm room, where the discarded wrappers and aluminum cans are physical reminders of his penchant toward gratification, rises to my mind.
He would have indulged more freely at the ball, unaware of the danger, reducing his already limited time in this Trial.
The thought sends a new wave of panic coursing through me.
I jump to my feet and turn sharply toward Edward, my voice tight with barely restrained fury. “If they’re all dead, you won’t have a society. You’ll have a tomb.”
“The Order requires leaders, not liabilities. This Trial is about preparation. The world we live in, the battles we face—they do not come with the courtesy of fairness or time. Every leader, every recruit under the Obsidian Order must understand this. They must be ready to make every second count, to make decisions with life-or-death consequences.”
“But this isn’t the world. This is a controlled test. You’re manipulating the outcome from the start.”
“Controlled, yes, but reflective of the unpredictability of reality,” he replies coolly. “Every member of the Order has been prepared for these tests. They understand the risks.”
“They didn’t have a choice.”
Edward doesn’t flinch at my accusation. Instead, he merely nods slightly, as if acknowledging a point in a mundane debate.
“In a manner of speaking. Greatness often emerges from the crucible of cruelty. If they survive, they will be stronger, more capable. If not . . .” He trails off, shrugging slightly, a gesture so nonchalant it makes my blood hot.
Frustrated and feeling helpless, I turn back to the screens. Both Xavier and Ben are now actively working, using whatever limited resources they have to identify the toxin corrupting their systems.
“What poison is it?”
Edward turns slowly, his face a mask of calculated detachment. “It’s a poison the Order created. The inspiration for it is the sanguineus castor bean,” he replies methodically, as if discussing the weather rather than a lethal toxin.
“Sanguineus? Related to blood?” I frown, trying to piece together the significance. The symbolism.
“Exactly,” Edward confirms with a nod. “It’s apt, given the timing of the Sanguine Solstice, the celebration of the blood moon under which we honor the recruits who passed the first Trial.”
The layers of meaning send a shiver down my spine, the celebration’s name taking on a sadistic tone. “What will it do to them?” I ask, needing to know more while dreading every word that comes out of his mouth.
“It is designed to be fast-acting, attacking the body’s cells, preventing them from making the proteins they need to survive.
Without the antidote we’ve created, it will result in death within hours from systemic organ failure,” he explains clinically.
“The Sanguine Solstice isn’t just a celebration—it’s a reminder of the blood that leaders must be willing to shed, figuratively and literally. ”
His justification does nothing but increase my horror. I turn back to the screens, my mind reeling from the implications. The recruits are in a race against a clock that’s ticking away in their veins, and the odds aren’t in their favor.