Chapter 2
TWO
Listen to your gut.
LUCA
I track their breathing obsessively and brace myself for a long night.
I won’t wake any of them up to keep watch. There’s no point when I won’t be able to rest, anyway. Not on this realm. My basilisk is too alert. It’s been wired since the moment the gateway spat us out here instead of the celestial realm.
My joints ache, and I wish I could stretch out better. The shift fucking hurt. Worse than I ever imagined. The pain was endless, and when it finally stopped, I found myself drowning in new senses and disturbed by the missing ones.
It was hard to think.
If I shift again, will I be less overwhelmed?
The basilisk rattles angrily. It doesn’t approve of my “if.” Cooperating for now, it’s on guard, watching closely for threats. There will be plenty of them. From the tension in my bones, to the tingling in my gums and palms—I know we’re in danger the same way I know it’s fucking cold outside.
The monster realm. Normal shifters use it as a punch line, a curse, or a warning to keep kids from being shitheads, but it might as well be a strand of barbed wire braided into my DNA.
My body knows this place because my ancestors evolved to survive it.
Gods, my parents sacrificed everything to make sure I wasn’t born here.
I’ll be damned if I die here either.
It’s up to me to make sure we survive this. I gulp, swallowing a mouthful of venom-laced spit. Nauseating shame rolls around in my gut as fear skitters along my skin like thousands of spider legs. I’m not sure I’ve got what it takes.
I can admit it to myself, but only while the others sleep.
The air inside the bunker is stale, musty, and damp. It smells forgotten, and I wonder if anyone has stumbled upon this hiding spot since my parents fled this realm thirty years ago.
Were they as scared as I am the last time they were here? Did Dad’s hands shake while he held Mom close, her arms wrapped around her rounded belly?
I shake my head. It’s difficult to picture them feeling fear or any other strong emotion.
Fleeing the monster realm hit my parents hard.
I’m not sure they ever got over the sacrifice they made to protect me.
With each year that passes, they show less of everything.
It’s been more than a decade since I heard Mom laugh.
As a kid, I didn’t notice their emptiness—at least not in a way I could put into words. The hollow voices, their faraway eyes, and the ever-present glass of whiskey Dad kept clasped between his fingers.
My parents love me—I have no doubt about that. Shit, they gave up part of themselves to make sure I never had to do the same. But sometimes . . . is it wrong to wish they hadn’t?
Alistair stirs against me, his deep, even breathing becoming shallower. He whispers my name. It sounds like a question. I open my mouth to speak, but the lump in my throat is too big. I squeeze his leg instead.
“I can take over the watch.” Damn him. I need this.
“I’ve got it,” I say. “Go back to sleep.”
I’m stiff. My voice is raspy, and it’s incredibly frustrating because I can already see how this is going to play out.
Ali will notice that I’m upset, and then he’ll argue with me about keeping watch. He’ll push, and dammit, I can’t match him tonight.
Not while every bone in my body is aching. My flimsy, inherited knowledge of this hellish fucking realm is the only thing standing between us and a cluster of shallow graves, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
But Alistair doesn’t argue.
He covers my rigid hand with his and runs his thumb over the back. Slow, rhythmic swipes—it’s sweet and soothing, but mostly it’s strange. Alistair is a lot of things: passionate, intense, and dangerous, to name a few, but he isn’t usually sweet. Not with me at least.
The lump in my throat doubles in size, and it’s all I can do not to choke on it.
I bite my lip, wincing at the sting.
Gradually, as if he thinks I’m going to bolt or backhand him, Alistair wraps his other arm around my shoulders and tucks me into his side. His breath is warm, and it rustles my hair as I sag against him, the tension that’s been holding me together abandoning me all at once.
We’re close. If he wanted to tear my throat out, he could. I doubt I could do a damn thing to stop him, but I know he won’t.
I trust Alistair. Almost as much as I trust Celine.
Getting to that point wasn’t as hard for me as it is for most people in the Fringes, so I try to be understanding whenever Celine or Alistair retreat.
In a world of backstabbing and betrayal, they’ve been conditioned to wear their suspicion on their sleeves, but the only deep pain I’ve experienced was secondhand.
I used to think that was a strength of mine.
Now I wonder if I have any of those at all.
“You’re spinning out,” Ali whispers.
I nod, knowing he can feel it against his shoulder.
“Talk to me?” Can I?
My mom’s face returns to my mind, threads of gray woven into the brown of her hair. Her tired hazel eyes always soften when they land on me, and I’ve learned to find meaning in those subtle signs.
“I haven’t been to see them in a while,” I admit. It’s not what I planned to say, but if Alistair is surprised, I can’t tell.
“Your parents?”
I nod again.
“Are they unable to travel?” Alistair asks.
His question throws me off. I raise my eyebrows, thankful for the darkness. I’m not sure why their refusal to visit has never crossed my mind. After moving constantly when I was a kid, they settled in the Texas Fringes when I was thirteen or fourteen. I don’t think they’ve left since.
“They’re busy,” I say, a yawn forcing its way out.
“So are you.”
He says it simply, like it’s a fact and nothing else. A piece of guilt falls off my shoulders, and I suck in a breath, flooding my nose with Ali’s spicy scent. I’ve missed having him close. For a while there, we were a team, and I don’t want to lose that.
“Don’t fuck up again,” I mutter.
He huffs, and his breath ruffles my hair a second time. “I’ll do my best.” His voice turns crafty as he adds, “But only if you sleep.”
“Are you threatening me, Alistair?”
His grip tightens, and my stomach flips. I can handle snarky teasing. That’s normal for us, familiar even, but Alistair never does anything the easy way.
“Never,” he hisses, his surge of intensity taking me off guard. “Now, please rest. We need you, Luca.”
I’m either too tired to argue or he slid some compulsion into his words, because I drift off before I can respond.
I wake to Celine’s fingers in my hair.
“Everything’s fine,” she whispers. “We think it’s daytime.”
I blink in the grim darkness of the tree bunker. It’s not any lighter than it was when I fell asleep, but it does seem warmer.
I sit up, swallowing a groan as every ligament, tendon, and bone in my body complains. I feel like I got hit by a truck; my fingernails even hurt. Fuck, if this is what it’s like to grow old, I don’t want any part of it.
“Can you walk us through the eclipse schedule?” Celine asks. “When’s the next one?”
“Around noon,” I say. “But we’ll be able to tell if we keep an eye on the sky.”
“We need to get back to the Fringes,” Alistair says. “There must be a portal.”
I scrub my hand over my chin, wincing at the rough drag of my stubble. “Yeah, and it will be intensely guarded by the only shifters here who aren’t trying to escape this rock.”
“But we’re intensely dangerous,” Celine argues.
I kiss her softly. “Did you wake up bloodthirsty, baby?”
She scoffs. “That’s Alistair’s thing.”
“Terrible joke, hot wings.” Ciprian groans as he stretches. One of his legs is tangled with mine, and the other grazes my hip.
It’s still dark in here, but now that my eyes have adjusted, I can tell there are levels to it. When Malach stands over us, he casts a shadow. “I’m climbing out to have a look around,” he says.
“I’ll come with you.” I hold my breath as I lurch to my feet and my muscles protest.
“Take it easy,” Alistair grunts, steadying me with the same hands that held me while I slept. “I’ll go with the murderous angel.”
My lips twitch. “It was judgment,” I say, mimicking Malach perfectly, all the way down to the accent and inflection.
Celine laughs, and we watch as the two of them shove the ice aside and squeeze through the hole. Bright light streams through the opening. It has a cool tone, almost blue—another reminder that we’re not on Earth anymore.
“Who do you think would win in a fight?” Ciprian asks, his handsome face tilted toward the entrance to the bunker.
Celine cocks her head and hums, strands of flame-red hair framing her cheeks. “Depends on what weapons were available. Malach has more combat experience—”
“But Alistair is crazier,” I say, bumping her hip with mine, then regretting the movement.
“Neither of them would last a minute against our girl.” Ciprian tosses a playful punch at Celine’s middle, and she smiles sharply before wrapping him in a headlock.
“Surrender now, and I’ll let you go,” she says.
Ciprian winks at me, then relaxes in her hold and rubs his face against her tits. “Why the fuck would I want to do that?” he asks. “I’m happy where I am.”
Celine releases him and shakes her head, but I don’t miss the pink flush in her cheeks. Ciprian’s flirting is calculated. He’s as freaked out as the rest of us; he’s also determined to keep the morale up. I’m thankful for it.
Alistair thrusts his hand through the hole and crooks his fingers. “Come,” he demands.
“Bossy,” Ciprian mutters, his teasing tone long gone. I shoot Celine a glance, but she’s already collecting the backpacks. One by one, we pass them to Alistair.
I kneel to give Celine a boost, but she drops into a squat, retracts her wings, and jumps to Alistair’s hand instead, easily walking up the packed dirt wall of the bunker. We get a glimpse of her round ass squeezing through the hole before she disappears.
Ciprian groans and bites his fist. “Why is it so sexy when she does stuff like that?”
“Because independent women are hot.” I smile and pat my bent leg, offering Ciprian the boost instead.
He shakes his head. “Normally, I’d be all over that, but you’re hurting.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t say fine. You forget I grew up with shifters. If you haven’t shifted in a while, it hurts—horribly if Gideon’s whining was anywhere close to accurate. It’ll get better the more you do it, but for now you’ll have to accept my boost.”
I want to tell him to fuck off, but the matter-of-fact way he talks about it makes it seem okay to be sore. Sighing, I stand.
Ciprian laces his fingers together, and I step into his hand and lock my body.
The next thing I know, my head pops out of the hole as frigid slush slides down the collar of my shirt. I hiss and grab Celine’s hand, letting her yank me the rest of the way out.
I turn to help Ciprian, but Alistair is already sticking his hand through the opening. By the time Ciprian realizes who’s helping him, it’s too late to refuse. He shoots a dark glare at Ali and lets go before he’s steady, stumbling into the trunk of the tree.
Alistair pretends not to notice.
“Did your parents make you memorize all the landmarks?” Celine asks, ignoring them entirely and focusing on the quiet woods around us.
I nod. “There’s a portal on the other side of this forest.”
Celine rolls her shoulders back. “Can we make it there before the next eclipse?”
“We’ll have to hurry.” I shield my eyes and check the position of the sun. “But if we time it right, we can sneak away as the darkness falls and the guards take cover from the cold.”
Celine smiles grimly. “Smart. Should we expect”—she flinches, then shoots me an apologetic wince—“to run into any monsters?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “If it’s like it used to be, the shifters in power on the mainland use this realm as a penal colony.
Most of the monsters here aren’t free to wander around.
” I point at the shifter realm. It’s barely visible through the collection of floating shrapnel—the monster realm’s version of an electric fence.
“It used to be that if a monster agreed to have their beast side permanently bound, they were allowed to return to the mainland and live freely. When my parents left, there were dozens of monsters actively resisting and using this realm to hide, but that was decades ago. Most of them have probably been captured or killed by now.”
“And how does the government decide which shifters get classified as monsters?” Celine asks, her lips pressing into a thin, angry line.
I laugh bitterly. “Beats me, but if you’ve got big teeth and a small population, chances are you end up on their list.”
When no one immediately responds, I kick myself for being too blunt.
“That’s fucked up,” Celine finally says.
I force a bland smile and nod.
Celine laces her fingers with mine, then nestles our clasped hands in the front pocket of my hoodie. “Maybe the guards won’t shelter from the eclipse today, and we can bust some heads on our way out.”
She sounds so hopeful that my next smile is real.