Chapter 19
JUDGE
I’m awake before Diana.
There’s a peace that rests over me as the morning sun starts to rise on the beach. My omega is beside me and finally reeks of my scent again, versus when I first held her on that balcony, and she so wrongly smelled like everyone else.
There’s a part of me that doesn’t know what to do with such a gentle morning, and yet this is kind of softness an omega would love. I want to give her good memories before the Scarlett Offering, because I’m worried.
I’m fucking worried it will cost me everything to keep her safe.
Diana deserves to know love. I was selfish before, tasting a part of life that belonged to no one else other than what fate had promised me.
God, it was so fucking sweet when I first saw her…
I glance down as she sleeps, my jacket over the blanket for extra warmth.
Her blonde hair is covered in sand, dark circles still under her eyes, but she’s whole.
She’s precious to me.
She’s utterly mine, and has proven she’s worthy of being my mate in how damn hard she was to catch. It’s like taming a feral cat, at this point.
I smile gently at her sleeping face—
I shift quickly when I see something in my peripheral—Slash.
She lands on the perch I set up, waiting for her letter from Grimm.
I check on my omega once more, who is still asleep, her breathing slow and even, her face slack in a way I've never seen when she's awake.
No wariness. No calculation. Just resting…
I want to give her more of that.
I untie the small scroll from Slash's leg, careful not to jostle her. She clicks her beak at me—impatient, demanding—and I pull a strip of dried meat from the bag. She snatches it and tears into the beef, gulping it quickly.
The note is short:
The Last Toll is secure. You and your omega can rest and replenish here. Much to discuss.
Grimm doesn't waste words on things he doesn't mean. If he says come, we're welcome. If he says bring her, she'll be protected. The Reapers are a wild fucking group encased in death’s shadow, and not even Titan goes near them.
Their leader loathes the Bayou’s Maw, and in that, we’re allies.
It wouldn’t hurt to chat with him while I’m down here, either.
I also need the reprieve for myself, somewhere I can let my guard down for more than five minutes at a time without worrying about who's watching, who's calculating, who's waiting for an opening. I barely fucking slept because I can’t fail Diana again.
If I weren’t an echo, my body would be destroyed by now. And even so, I can tell that I need to rest and reset before our long ride back.
Diana stirs, wincing with her stretch. I look at her—really look—cataloging the shadows under her eyes, the pallor of her skin, the way she's holding herself like everything hurts now that she’s awake. Because everything probably does. Her eyes flutter open like she’s coming out of a daze.
“You should sit up and eat, and enjoy this sunrise. It’s beautiful in the morning.”
She blinks at me, disoriented, then turns her head toward the horizon. The sky is bleeding pink and gold across the water, the kind of view people used to pay fortunes for in the old world. Now it's just ours. Free of charge, compliments of the apocalypse.
"How long have you been awake?" she asks, voice still rough with sleep.
"Long enough to watch you drool."
Any tension in her face disappears as she throws a smile at me. “I don't drool."
"You absolutely drool.” I hand her a strip of dried meat and a canteen. "Eat. We're heading to a Reaper outpost today. We’ll hole up there for a few days and give you some proper rest for your back, and let you sleep.”
She takes the food, chewing slowly, her eyes still fixed on the water, wincing as she sits up straight, the bandages around her covered in sand. "You have friends?"
I grin at her, loving the way she always throws it right back at me. “I have allies. Grimm is..." I pause, trying to find the right word. "Something adjacent to a friend. We have similar views on the world, and harbor matching disdain for Titan.”
I can see Grimm’s face in my mind’s eye, with eyes that mirror mine.
Except one is slightly whiter, three slashes across his face from an attack.
He’s got a dark energy, one that makes my skin crawl.
He’s in a pack with another alpha, something more common in these southern regions where more than one alpha can be scent matched to an omega.
No fucking idea why, either. It’s just how the world split up after the bloom.
"He's the Witch Doctor's cousin,” I state, rising to my feet with no clothes on, my skin rising with little ridges from the cool air.
Diana chokes on her water. "What?"
I snort. “So tread carefully around him. He’s got the same weird energy that the witch does. She's chaos on a leash, and he’s death with a fucking schedule."
“And we’re visiting him?” she squeaks.
"That's the Reapers." I hold out my hand to help her up. "But their territory is safe, especially for omegas. And your back needs proper rest before we ride home, and I admit, so do I. Let’s go to the water, but make sure to avoid your back. You should experience this freeness in the early morning.”
She takes my hand, wincing as she stands, her pain pulsing through the bond. It makes something violent twist in my chest, pissed off I was unable to rip out the spine of that man who used warrogs.
Later. That's a problem for later.
Right now, my only true focus is getting Diana fed, rested, and healed.
Everything else can wait.
While I’m preferential to the few days of rest, I’m also not looking forward to visiting the Reapers under this condition.
But wherever Grimm is, there’s a massive expanse of…
It’s so hard to explain. The skies slightly darken wherever his presence is found, the temperature cooling, like a storm front is perpetually blowing in.
Underneath that canopy of his, the surrounding energy is naturally subduing, as if he carries a miasma of suppressants, an effect that hits anyone who gets near him.
The fucker is hard to kill because of it.
But it also means no one goes near him, and we do have a lot to catch up on.
The landscape shifts as we travel—scrubland to marsh, marsh to coastal grass—and the air changes with it.
I keep an eye on the gas, Slash flying alongside us.
If we get low, I’ll send the bird to have Rust give us what we need.
He’s never far, even if out of sight, and I know that beast of his keeps a scent locked on us.
I’ll probably have him sit guard while at Grimm’s before we part ways, just so I know someone that’s mine is watching our backs while I sleep in terrain that’d not Dominion.
Diana's arms tighten around my waist in a way that makes me feel fucking whole, constantly reminding me of what my purpose is.
Then the air darkens... well, let’s just get this fucking over with. The clouds have perpetual grayness to them, the sky losing its vibrancy. A wind picks up that blows any flags leftover from the bloom.
Then black flags. Rows of them, all rippling in the wind. Skulls are spiked in between each one, making me smile despite myself. I always liked his style, even if it’s, well, grim.
Ravens fly overhead, some perched on trees. The lifeless road becomes filled with those wearing the scythe patch, all watching Diana and me very carefully.
When I pull my bike up and kill the engine, the guards at the gate recognize me immediately. At least that’s a good fucking sign. "Alpha Judge,” one says, a scythe tattoo on his right side. “Grimm said to bring you straight through."
I help Diana dismount, my hands careful on her waist, and I feel the way she's cataloging everything. The stacked car walls. The guard towers. The old industrial buildings that have been reclaimed. Her eyes are sharp despite her exhaustion, filing away details, assessing threats.
Good girl. Even injured, she's thinking like a survivor.
The inside of the compound is more organized than most settlements.
We pass a market square, a blacksmith's forge, and children chasing each other with sticks.
Diana's interest spikes through the bond when she spots a group of omegas near a fire pit.
Three of them, sitting in the open, talking and laughing.
No guards hovering. No alphas posturing nearby. Just... existing.
“They’re allowed out like that?” she asks. “Some of these alphas reek like they’re unmated.”
“Whatever Grimm is, omegas under his protection are untouchable. Something in his presence dampens aggression, but if you get them rallied for a fight, it does the opposite and turns them into berserkers. Again, weird as hell, like the witch.”
“Well, that’s a perk,” she murmurs.
"It is." I crook a small smile, guiding her forward with a hand on her back. "That's why I brought you here."
The Last Toll rises ahead of us, three stories with a wraparound porch crowded with people drinking, gambling, and arguing. Music spills from somewhere inside, a discordant blend of guitar, drums, and even an enthusiastic violin.
Charming place. Really captures that ‘we might kill you, but we'll buy you a drink first’ aesthetic.
We push through the swinging doors into controlled chaos.
The ground floor is a taproom packed with bodies—Reapers, travelers, traders, and people who look like they'd slit your throat for the boots on your feet.
To which they probably fucking would, too.
The air is thick with smoke, sweat, and the yeasty smell of homebrew.
A massive bar dominates one wall, tended by a woman with arms like tree trunks and a scar that bisects her face from forehead to chin.
I feel the shift as we enter, that subtle recalibration that happens when another gang leader enters a room in another territory. Diana presses closer to my side, and I let my hand slide from her back to her hip. Mine. Don't even fucking think about it.