Chapter 41 Irene
Irene
Irene stumbled into her room and threw up.
Her vision blurred, darkening at the edges.
She fell to her knees, hands flat against the wooden floors, back curved as her body purged itself of what it could.
Take it all, she begged. Every memory. Every lingering emotion.
Every haunting mistake. She wanted to carve herself open and rip out the rot.
That thing that made her feel empty. Because she was empty, wasn’t she?
What else could possibly explain the sickness in her mind?
The twisted, dark part of her that would let her stand back and watch her best friend be tortured?
She couldn’t stop hearing the screams. She couldn’t stop them from ringing out in her head, a sickening sound that sent another wave of nausea up her throat. She sucked in a breath, coughing, sputtering, desperate for air in her lungs.
Please. Make it stop. Make it fucking stop.
Irene didn’t even know who she was begging to anymore.
No one was listening. No one had ever listened.
Her pleas were as empty as her soul, careening uselessly around her skull, barely drowning out the memory of Masika’s cries.
Somehow, she managed to gather herself back onto her feet, stumbling into the washroom.
She rinsed her mouth and glared up at her own reflection.
She couldn’t stand to look at herself. To meet her own reflection and know what she was capable of.
What she had been willing to sacrifice to keep her promise to the Order.
Something cold pressed against her palm.
She looked down.
The coin.
She could barely remember the moment Headmaster Silas had placed it in her hand.
The memory was already foggy at the edges.
Warped by the pain of Masika’s cries. Congratulations, Ms. Bamford.
His voice tore at her mind. Clawed at her insides.
You are now part of Blackwood Academy’s prestigious Council.
She’d left the dungeons only moments later, her sanity already fraying at the edges.
She’d let her friend suffer. She’d watched. Complacent. Silent.
And for what? For this?
Something tore inside her. A fracture. A splintering crack.
I can’t.
She hadn’t used the locket Mateo had given her since the Decennial. She hadn’t had a reason to. Mateo had always been near, waiting for her. But he wasn’t here now. And Irene knew there was something she needed to do.
She unearthed the locket from her nightstand. It hummed in her palm, waiting for her command.
It just needed one word.
One name.
“Mateo.”
He appeared before her from one blink to the next. Apprehension pinched his features the moment his gaze fell upon Irene, his brows furrowed in concern. He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her steady.
“What happened?” His voice shook. “What’s wrong?”
“Masika.” Irene could barely get her name out. It tasted sour on her tongue. “I…I watched them torture her. They…tore into her mind. They entered her soul—” But Mateo’s voice sliced through her words.
“What is that?”
Irene blinked up at him.
“What?” she choked out.
Mateo had grown eerily still. His eyes dragged down to Irene’s hand. To the coin nestled in her palm. A ravenous hunger flared in his blue eyes…something Irene hadn’t quite seen before.
“Are you listening to me?” Irene placed her hand against his cheek, angling his gaze back toward her. Mateo blinked, and it was as if he’d snapped out of a daze. “Masika. We have to help her.”
“There’s nothing we can do,” he said solemnly.
When Irene opened her mouth to protest, he interjected, cupping her face in his hands.
“Irene…you knew this would happen. You knew what your loyalty to the Order meant. When the catalyst arrives…she will cleanse the corruption at the root. Every single soul that isn’t tethered to the Soulless One will be destroyed. And that includes Masika.”
“But can’t you make an exception?”
Mateo’s eyes slowly drifted back to the coin. Again, his expression seemed to change. The tenderness Irene had come to know well—gone. As if the humanity had been snatched from his soul.
“Give it to me.”
Irene’s grip on the coin tightened.
“Please,” she begged. “I did what you asked. I’ve been loyal.”
Mateo placed his hand upon Irene’s. He didn’t try to take the coin, but his grip tightened, almost pleadingly.
“It’ll be worth it, in the end.” His words tore a hole in Irene’s chest. A finality that stole the breath from her lungs.
There was no changing his mind. No saving Masika.
Irene had made her bed…and now she’d have to lie in it.
“Just…hand it over, Irene. Finish what you started. Join us…once and for all.”
Irene felt her restraint slipping. The last shred of hope.
She unfurled her fingers.
She watched, helplessly, as Mateo slowly slid the coin into his palm.
“I’ll find you.” But even as he spoke, his eyes remained glued to the coin. It was as if she weren’t even there. As if everything—all the time spent between them—had never happened. “I promise.”
When he vanished from the room, Irene didn’t stir. She’d expected it. She saw it clearly now. Mateo had gotten what he wanted, and now…
An alarm blared in the distance. A sound Irene had never heard at Blackwood.
It was a dissonant gong. A chilling herald.
Then, as if the world had been drenched in the light of a bloodred moon, a scarlet haze floated from the nearby window. Irene staggered to the window. She stared, horrified, at the cost of her greed.
The sky burned crimson. A warning etched into the clouds as the protective dome surrounding Blackwood shattered, piece by piece.
WE ARE COMING.
What have I done? Irene thought, staggering backward. What have I done?
There was no fixing this now. She could go to Silas—but then what? He could fill her head with empty, pretty words…but was he any different than Mateo? Hadn’t they both simply told her what she wanted to hear?
She’d just wanted to be seen. To be heard.
To be fucking appreciated.
Her mother hadn’t seen her or appreciated her.
She’d tossed Irene away as if she were nothing—and for so long, Irene had believed her.
But Mateo and Silas had seen promise in her.
The possibility of power. And they’d seen that helpless need inside her and manipulated her like a puppet.
Tugging at her strings while she simply stood back and let them.
But not anymore.
Irene Manette Bamford was selfish. She was cruel. A heartless power-hungry bitch.
And she was done believing in the promises of wretched men.