18. Chapter 18
Arwen
Maddox’s arm slips around my waist, his fingers pressing just above my hip bone with a casual weight that suggests he’s done this a thousand times before. Like this is our routine.
My mind is still snagged on the suit. He arrived at my door in something cut from a material so dark it drank the light, tailored so it seemed to carve his silhouette out of the air.
The jacket hugs the width of his shoulders without a crease; the trousers in a clean, uninterrupted line.
It doesn’t tame him. If anything, it hones him—the danger in his posture more deliberate.
And it’s distracting.
Annoyingly so.
I feel something cool and metallic slide against my lower back before my mouth has time to catch up to my brain. The solid weight of it tucked beneath the waistband of my pants as my spine goes rigid.
“A gun,” Maddox says quietly, already adjusting the back of my jacket like this is just another part of getting dressed for dinner.
“Since you already know how to use it.” He smirks.
“This doesn’t exactly scream normal relationship.” I say, getting used to the bulk feeling in the back of my jeans.
His face jerks towards mine before I realize my mistake… I said 'relationship‘.’
We haven’t even discussed the bond, let alone a full-blown relationship. Shut up Arwen. Change the subject.
“I hope I’m dressed okay.” Glancing down at my jeans, sparkly top, and black jacket, I note I might be underdressed. It’s… nice. Just not black-tie, power-player, eat-the-weak kind of nice. I’ve never dressed that kind of nice.
Maddox walks behind me so I can see him in the mirror.
“I didn’t know you owned any other clothes outside of ripped jeans and tight shirts that showcase your ass—” I choke, clapping a hand over my mouth. “—abs. I mean abs.”
What the hell is with you today, Arwen? We’re going to dinner with his deranged family.
Maddox doesn’t even flinch. He just slides his hands into his pockets, a slow, smug grin pulling at his mouth like he’s filing that away for later.
“You look great,” he says, voice steady. “Strong. Like you’re not trying too hard.”
I look back to the mirror... maybe he has a point.
“Good,” I mutter, straightening my jacket.
His gaze holds for a heartbeat too long, dark eyes tracing the line of my hip where my jacket pulls taut, then drifting up to the neckline of my sparkly top.
A flush creeps up my neck, warm and undeniable, as his attention lingers.
I watch his throat work—a slight, almost imperceptible swallow—before he blinks, breaking the spell.
He clears his throat and turns toward the door, the line of his shoulders rigid.
“Are you ready to head down?” he asks. I hate that you have to do this so soon after what you just went through. If you’re not feeling up to it, I’ll tell them to fuck off and reschedule.
“No need. As you can see, physically, I’m as good as new. Mentally, it’s going to take more time. And I doubt they would wait that long.”
He looks murderous at the reminder, but holds his hand out for me to grab. “Do you remember everything we spoke about?”
We spent three whole hours going over everyone of his siblings and how to act towards them.
As I had already guessed from the family dynamics he explained last year, most were vile.
Each one seemed worse than the last. Like a pit of different snakes, each snake with its own unique poison, each with its own way of killing you.
“Of course,” I say, slipping my hand into his. “Avoid everyone, give them nothing, and try not to accidentally blow my pants off with my new gun. Pretty easy to remember.”
He drags a hand down his face, but I catch the grin he’s trying to hide. It does something weird to my chest.
The isolation room in Greed doesn’t sound too bad right now.
“Okay,” I say, squeezing his hand once before I can talk myself out of going. “Let’s get this over with.”
***
All eyes snap to me the second we step through the doors of the grand dining room. Sharp gazes look over every inch of me.
Smug smiles like they already know how this ends. Cruel amusement that doesn’t even try to hide itself, like I walked in already bleeding and they’re just deciding where to sit.
For a split second, I feel small. Microscopic. Like an ant pinned under glass while someone decides whether to study me… or crush me. I try to keep my face neutral as I scan the group.
Different expressions flicker across unfamiliar faces, and I try not to read too much into each one.
Open contempt that they don’t even bother hiding.
Before I have time to take in the over the top, excessive dining room, a smooth, amused voice cuts through everything.
“Ahhh, our Guests of Honor have finally arrived!” Councilor West announces from the head of the table. “Let’s take our seats, everyone.”
Maddox pulls me toward the far end of the table where a small, pale brunette sits… that must be Valentine, the oldest. And the safest, according to Maddox.
“Oh, Maddox,” his father cuts in. “I’ve assigned Arwen to sit over here. You’ve had her the whole year. Let the family get to know her a bit.”
Maddox’s hand tightens around mine for a second before letting go.
Walking head held high and my shoulders back. I keep my face smooth and repeat my mantra in my head.
Give them nothing.
I take my assigned seat—closer to Councilor West than I’d like—folding myself into the chair with controlled precision. My neck prickles with the weight of eleven sets of eyes, cataloging my every move. Vipers waiting to strike.
I glance at the woman on my immediate left.
She has shoulder length, straight red hair and full cheeks. Her dark, calculating eyes stare at me, a glass of wine dangling lazily from her fingers. There’s a smile on her face—but it’s not friendly. More like she’s enjoying the show.
I give her a small, polite smile. Nothing more.
Then I turn to my right, towards the head of the table where Councilor West sits.
Between us, a man sits ramrod straight, posture perfect, expression carved from stone. He looks a lot like Maddox, just a decade older.
Sharp features. Black hair. Eyes like midnight swallowed the moon.
There’s a scar cutting from his eyebrow down toward his nose. As I study him, he doesn’t even note my existence.
Just stares straight ahead.
“Arwen…” Councilor West’s voice rolls down the table, pointing at the man I’m staring at. “This is Riven, and on your left is Amaya.”
Fantastic.
Councilor West has placed me directly between the most powerful of Maddox’s siblings.
I resist the urge to laugh at the obvious intimidation tactic and instead turn, acknowledging both of them with a measured nod.
“A pleasure.”
Riven continues to ignore me. Just a short, dismissive dip of his chin, like I’m an obligation he’s already bored with.
Amaya, on the other hand…
She lifts her glass toward me and winks.
“—and directly across from you is Vex,” Councilor West continues.
I look up. Vex is watching me with a mad hunger in his eyes.
Ink covers his entire body, even more than Maddox's . Dark, intricate tattoos crawl up his throat, across his arms, disappearing under his clothes. One tattoo dominates the left side of his face.
Red blood dripping down his face, inked from his temple to his jaw, making him look like he had just murdered someone on the way to dinner.
I’m supposed to just ignore him too, according to Maddox. I guess I can see why.
Metallic glints flash when he smiles, silver coating his teeth. His grin is animalistic. It sharpens, and then he blows me a kiss, relaxing back into his chair.
I keep my expression flat as I try to control the small tells in my eyes. That’s what we worked on the most: controlling my expressions.
Give them nothing.
“—and this is Wicka,” Councilor West gestures to his immediate right.
Stay away from Wicka… echoes in my head from the night before.
Messy curly dark hair flies all around her, swallowing her pale face. Her glasses askew, fingers twitching. Her eyes don’t settle—they flick fast from me to Vex to Councilor West to the ceiling and back to me again, full of madness and curiosity that fills me with dread.
I fight the urge to lean away.
“—and on the other side of Vex is Teeth. Apologies, I’m droning on. I’m sure you’ll meet the rest later.”
Teeth. What a dumb name.
I felt him staring the second I walked in. There’s no amusement in his expression. No curiosity.
Just pure, open disdain that he doesn’t bother hiding. He has the dark features of his brothers and sisters, but he is quite pudgy like his father. Face red and ruddy.
His lip curls when our eyes meet before he turns his head away entirely, like the sight of me alone offends him.
Message received. I’m not happy to be here either, Teeth.
Slowly I let my gaze drift down the table until I find Maddox.
He’s watching everything. Just looking at him steadies something in me, but he doesn’t look happy, and I know why. The Councilor put me right in with the worst of them. The ones I was explicitly told to avoid.
Taking a deep breath, I tell myself calmy… it’s just dinner. I can do this.
They set down the first course just as the game begins.
“I can see why my brother spent weeks scouring the Wastes for you.” Amaya’s voice is too warm. Honey on a blade. She leans toward me, chin resting lightly on her knuckles, eyes bright with interest. “You’re even prettier up close.”
I offer a small, polite smile. “I’ve heard people here tend to exaggerate.”
Her smile widens a fraction.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she hums. “I think this family calls it like it is. You must feel so special… all this attention.”
I tilt my head. “I think everyone at this table is used to attention.”
She responds with a raised brow as she takes a sip of her wine and sets it down. Drawing out the silence.
“Tell me, Arwen,” she says, tone lighter now but sharper underneath, “would you rather be feared… or needed?”
There’s no right answer without giving away information about myself.
“I think,” I say calmly, “that depends on who’s asking.”