Chapter 46 #2
I should have known the moment his hand dropped away that he had no intention of answering me in earnest. But it didn't dawn on me until his smirk had already spread, and he was halfway through his ridiculous retort. “A great set of tits will have any man offering up his soul.”
My mouth fell open before I snapped it shut with a growl.
“Would you stop messing around and tell me what I’m supposed to learn from this?” I demanded. “What are we supposed to do with this?”
Soren’s face lit up with a blatant twinkle in his eye. “We?”
“Me,” I corrected.
The voice that came next was from the doorway, not from Soren.
“You two are really something, aren’t you?”
Soren and I both jumped, spinning toward the open door. Soren surged forward on instinct, then stopped short of pummeling Winifred. She glanced at his raised fist with a single, unimpressed brow lifting in reproach.
He stepped back so fast it was almost a bow. “Winifred.”
I crossed the room, wiping at my face before the tears could betray me. “You’re alive!”
“Of course I am.” She laughed lightly and stepped inside as if there wasn’t an army of the worst kind of monsters above us.
“I hope I get the same reaction,” Salah laughed, appearing behind her.
“Salah!” I forgot where we were and any need for discretion as I flung myself at her, arms locking tight.
The smell of smoke and metal clung to her, proof she’d been fighting to get here.
I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d been carrying their faces in my mind, promising revenge on Abadon and Azazel for more than just Lillemore now.
More than just Riaan. I’d already assumed more deaths.
Warmth swelled in my chest—heavy, potent, and full of implications. The same warmth that had stirred at the idea of my family’s legacy. Not too dissimilar to the effect of Soren’s genuine smile or the possibility that he chose me thousands of years ago.
“Matthias and Marigold are keeping watch at the bottom of the stairs,” Salah said, half-laughing under my grip.
“I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re alive.”
We both laughed, though we knew I did care. I felt even lighter with their names off the deceased list. Yes, even Marigold’s survival eased a burden.
Behind me, Soren shut the door. “Glad the two of you have been reunited, but let's keep it down.”
I pressed my lips together as we all moved back into the room.
It was a struggle to avoid looking at Soren with all the questions begging for his answers.
“What is all of this?” I asked Winifred. “You knew about this box, didn’t you?”
“I only knew you’d find a door here.” She moved to the table, her gaze dropping to the scroll.
“I hoped you’d find the other half of that necklace—we’ve been searching for it for years.
But the letter?” She looked to Soren now.
“This I never suspected. No one has been in this exact room for over three thousand years. The last person was Soren’s mother. ”
Soren’s posture stiffened. Salah gasped softly.
I tried not to. I’d grown used to everyone knowing the facts of my own family tragedy—dead mother, estranged father—but I’d never once heard Soren mention his.
And judging by the sudden drop in his gaze, this was a wound he kept sealed tight. Three thousand years without a mother. Even for a nephilim, that was a chasm of loss.
Winifred’s eyes flicked from me to him. “His mother wasn’t a Daughter of the Scepter, but her best friend was. Her brother was a Guardian. Soren’s mother fell in love with one of the Fallen.”
The words landed like heavy stones. A human who loved a monster.
How familiar…
I didn’t look at him fully, but from the edge of my vision, I caught the subtle shift in his face. He watched for my disgust. I didn’t give it to him. What I felt was empathy. And, disturbingly, a twinge of something akin to yearning.
“She knew about both sides of the prophecy,” Winifred went on. “The Daughter of the Scepter would bring back the Anointed, but the Dark One would take a queen to try and stop the Resurrection.”
The Dark One would what?!
That part was new.
My jaw clenched, but my face stayed neutral.
No one had mentioned any other aspect of the prophecy to me before this.
The Dark One was to take a queen for himself to fight the Resurrection? Was I supposed to defeat that queen?
Kill her, too?
While I internally questioned my understanding of my destiny, I caught Soren’s hiss, slight but guttural.
“So, Sharona, Soren's mother, created the Guild of Sharona to protect the Daughters,” Winifred carried on, “Hoping her son would be the protector of the Final Daughter. It would redeem him from what she saw as a curse for her own choices, and to guard the Resurrection.” Winifred glanced sharply at Soren. “That’s not my belief, Soren, and you know it. You don’t need redemption for your birth or your sacrifice. ”
Soren grunted a response but didn’t look at her or Salah. He certainly didn’t look at me.
Winifred’s gaze returned to me. “Whatever secrets that scroll holds, they’ve waited a long time for you.”
I’d been patient—more patient than usual—but I finally erupted.
“I don’t have time for more secrets,” I snapped, sweeping my gaze around the glittering walls.
Every surface seemed to press expectations into my skin.
“I’m not just after revenge, no matter what most of you think.
” My eyes jumped to Soren for only a second.
“Someone like Azazel doesn’t ruin just one life.
He needs to be stopped. And I don’t even need to remind you that Abadon is probably killing people you care about right now. We don’t have time for this.”
It was a lie.
I was just after revenge. I’d been drowning in it my whole life. But the suffocating truth was that I needed out of this room before the weight of my bloodline crushed me. Before whatever Soren’s past sacrifice begged of me distracted me from all I’d worked for.
Winifred raised a calming hand. “We don’t have to explore it all now.” She placed the scroll back in the box, closing it with a quiet finality. “With that key, you’ll be able to access your hidden room anytime you come across a door similar to that one.” She nodded toward the only door in the room.
“The Upper Room,” Soren said, answering the question forming in my head.
So if I used the key at Hearth Haven, I’d end up right back here in this vault of secrets and requirements.
I stared at the door a beat longer, then shook my head. “Does this magic key also open The Tower? Preferably up to the 900K level?”
The door burst open before anyone could answer with an unamused no.
“I think I can help with that,” Adriel drawled, sauntering in with that nasty grin that made me want to break his face.
And yet, something lightened in my stomach at the sight of him alive.
“Oh, Adriel!” Winifred rushed forward, dragging him inside and glancing too long out into the hall before shutting the door. “I feared we lost you when the morphmen attacked.”
“You’re not that lucky.” He half-laughed, half-coughed, then added, “I found another way out. Ran into a friend who knows more about recent changes to this place than I do.”
The door creaked again, and a bald man I’d never seen before, with perfectly round glasses that matched his potbelly, peered in.
“Dad!” Salah bolted forward, throwing her arms around him.
Strange. I’d been friends with Salah in The Tower, yet I’d never pictured her family. She’d never mentioned them. This man certainly didn’t fit her glamorous public image.
“I heard you were in The Last City and came to make sure you had a way out.” His gaze landed briefly on me with a hint of recognition. Guess he knew me from all the Most Wanted announcements.
“A way out?” I cut in. “Or a way in?”
“They’ve blocked off this entrance. But there’s another through the Governor’s Mansion.”
“Then let’s go!” I was already moving past him, as if I knew the way myself.
“Wait.” Adriel slid into my path. My good fist curled before I could stop it. He lifted both hands in surrender. “There’s something else you’ll want to see.”
“What could possibly be more important than getting into The Tower?” I hissed.
He vanished into the hall, gone only three seconds before reappearing with someone at his side. A girl with long, blond hair that hung limp in her face but didn’t cover the bruises and cuts marring her sunken skin.
“Astrid!”
The name scraped out of me. I rushed to her side, supporting her when her knees buckled. Adriel kept hold of her on the other side until we settled her against the wall.
I crouched low, trying to find even a trace of the roommate I’d known. She felt like a stranger. And yet, she felt like home. Not The Tower. But home. The same way the others in the room ignited that same sense of belonging in me.
No. No time for this.
“I’m so sorry, Elle,” Astrid rasped, her lips cracked, voice paper-thin. Tears she couldn’t spare tracked down her hollow cheeks. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. It was so stupid of me.”
The last words were muffled against my shoulder when I pulled her into a hug.
“Shut up,” I choked out, blinking hard. “You know I can put up with anything from you. Even if you did get me excommunicated and plastered on The Tower’s terrorist list.”
Her sob hitched into a broken laugh. I pulled back to wipe her tears, offering a corner of my shirt, but Adriel was faster with his thumb swiping her cheek, a clean cloth in his other hand.
I’m sure my expression betrayed me. Adriel didn’t have a soft bone in his body. And Astrid was letting a man uglier than death touch her.
“How did you get here?” I asked. “What happened to you?”
Adriel answered instead. “Found her in a dungeon under Rafferty’s.” His eyes locked on Soren. “They were torturing her. Overheard their plan to move her here for more.”
I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Soren’s jaw tighten, eyes going black at the edges.
More of what?
His warning about The Red Room replayed in my head. Bile rose in my throat.
Would she have ended up in one of those boxes on the monitor? Or had worse already been done?
When I looked back at her, I resisted the urge to cock a brow at the sight of Adriel holding her hand with his thumb tracing circles. It had to be some PTSD bond. Still, it was freaking me out.
I liked to think I knew these two well by now, and they would not make a good couple. They wouldn’t even make good friends.
“Apparently, I’m a traitor for trying to contact you,” Astrid said, her voice cracking. She leaned her head against Adriel’s shoulder. “I went to Dagon for help, and he—” She swallowed, the sound low and furious. “He brought me here instead. Said he’d hide me.”
Hot rage hollowed out my stomach. My scalp prickled tight, my whole body buzzing with disgust. “I’m so sorry, Astrid.”
Soren’s chilled knuckles brushed the skin between my neck and shoulder, grounding me.
“I did it to myself,” she whispered.
“No,” came another voice from the doorway.
Not a new voice. A very old, very familiar one.
I was on my feet before my mind caught up. Zade stood in the frame, Mod armor gleaming, helmet retracted, a grin spreading as I launched myself into him. I didn’t wince at the impact of slamming into his armored chest and ignored the sting of my injuries as I flung my arms around his middle.
The slow build of comfort from these reunions gave way to something cataclysmic. Tears poured out so fast and hot that I never stood a chance of keeping them at bay. I buried myself in the metal and carbon fiber.
Zade’s fingers threaded into my hair, pulling me closer. “Missed you too, Belles.”
“Get your hands off her.” Soren’s voice was suddenly at my back.
I pulled away and bumped into him. He took the opportunity to hook an arm across my chest, pulling me out of Zade’s reach. Soren held me so tight that I could feel his muscles rippling against my back, readying.
“Wanna go again?” Zade’s voice was low, dangerous. “Unhand her, or I’ll kill you for good this time.”