Chapter 7
MAEVE
My ribs rattle like a shaken birdcage, and every breath feels like a trespass. The AC hisses over my bare knees, and I wish I could use it to bully my lungs into behaving.
My chromius paces restlessly, her anxiety over Julian—and over being back here—terrifying. If she makes a move without my permission, I’ll tear her throat out myself.
Metaphorically, of course.
“Adrian’s going to be alerted the moment we enter,” Lucifer reminds me.
Still here.
The two words from his text lodge under my ribs and won’t move. Unable to speak, I just nod, eyes fixed on the window. I can’t see much—it’s mostly dark now—but I don’t need amazing eyesight to know where we are.
This place is branded into my memory from when I was first transported to the compound after everything that went down with my previous pack.
Not yet ruled out of wrongdoing, I had been kept in the medical bay at the criminal holding centre—or the Tribunal Remand and Assessment Centre if you believe the propaganda—for weeks while I healed.
All I remember is pain.
Fluorescents that hummed like they were grinning. Sheets that sandpapered my skin. And that blue-striped tea that made consent look tidy on paper.
Adrian worked fast to get custody of me, but that didn’t change how it felt to be treated like a prisoner while still bleeding from what was done to me.
Unfortunately for me, custody paperwork signed by Adrian Graves is just cuffs with prettier nouns.
“We’ll be fine,” Torin drawls, killing the engine. “We’ve got the paperwork—”
“Still interested in whose asshole you rimmed for that privilege,” Hadrian cuts in, dry as ash.
“Who says it wasn’t me rimming assholes?” Kiaan asks, raising his hand cheekily.
I grimace, thinking both of the germs and the copious amount of touching involved with that kind of act. My stomach flips.
I’m glad he’s having fun, but the only way I’d be involved in that is if someone was desecrating my corpse.
Knowing my luck with sexual assault, that’s probably on someone’s to-do list.
“You’re not important enough, Ki,” Lucifer says lazily. “I still don’t know why you’re here, if I’m being honest.”
Hadrian huffs a quiet laugh. “Because even the Tribunal needs some comic relief.”
“Careful, Baby Cuz, you’re starting to sound like me,” Lucifer teases, his grin flashing bright and dangerous.
Torin grumbles low under his breath, and the air in the car sharpens. Lucifer finds the shift thrilling—his eyes flash black for a heartbeat—while Hadrian just looks irritated by the whole display.
Kiaan, though, is interesting. I still haven’t worked out his shifter type—only that he’s a predator—but he doesn’t flinch at the tension and hasn’t once tried to assert dominance.
Whether that’s because he knows he’d lose or because he’s far more powerful than the others, I don’t know.
Either way, he doesn’t unsettle me like the pantheral shifter does. I’ll count that as a win.
We pull up to the gate, and Torin reaches out his window to press the button. The plastic gives under his thumb with a tacky little squeak, and I shiver in my seat.
The telecom buzzes with static, then three rapid rings that make my stomach drop. It repeats four times before it clicks.
“Reason for visit?” a familiar voice asks.
I grumble under my breath at Jiun’s scratchy tone. He was my second boss here and an absolute nightmare to work for—nosy, chatty, and far too interested in shit that has fuck all to do with him.
“You know that’s none of your business, Richards,” Torin replies. “I’m here to visit an inmate and have brought the complainant and her bodyguards to face him.”
“Go on through,” Jiun mutters.
I smirk. I know I shouldn’t take pleasure in other people’s unhappiness, but I’m a bitch who does.
Oh, well, sucks to be them.
“Know him?” Lucifer asks, his voice low and husky.
I nod and explain that I worked for him. He gags, and I laugh.
“I went to school with him,” Hadrian says, scowling. “So, I win.”
“None of you win because there’s no prizes on offer, so shut the fuck up,” Torin snaps.
I’d reach forward and stab a pen in his neck or something equally dramatic if we weren’t rolling towards the terminal where four guards are waiting.
It would be just my luck that they like Torin—or hate me—enough to arrest me for his murder.
Assholes.
In the dark, this is a pretty spooky place. There’s lots of bright white spotlights, and since all of the guards are in dark clothes, it’s very unsettling. Never mind the strong energy from the multitude of mythical shifters.
The entire centre is covered in cameras and security, which makes everything amplified. My vulnerabilities are all exposed and on display for everyone to see.
“Names?” the captain asks, looking down at the clipboard in his hand as if it’s going to have us on it.
He’s got a red band on his arm, one that is the exact same shade as dried blood under clinic lights, marking him as the leader of this little quartet.
My tongue’s dry, and I press it to the roof of my mouth, my shoulders up by my ears.
Fuck.
I don’t recognise any of the guards, since their faces are mostly covered with black balaclavas. They’re a means of protection for them, apparently. Personally, I think it’s just so they can do whatever they want without consequence.
“Torin Ashford, Kiaan Murillo, Hadrian Graves, Lucifer Graves, and—” Torin names before he’s cut off by the captain.
“Lucifer Graves is on the banned list. In fact, he has an arrest-on-sight order.”
Of fucking course he does. Sociopathic, chaotic men don’t get visitor stickers.
“Grab him,” the guard snaps, clicking his fingers together, as his team moves as if yanked on strings.
I flinch, pushing myself back into the seat. The itchy fabric bites into my bare shoulders.
My vision narrows to a keyhole, my breathing hollow and sharp.
Not helpful, Maeve. Breathe, then think.
The one on the captain’s left transforms into a large minotaur—meat and momentum, horn tips catching the floodlight, and his hooves striking sparks on the concrete.
The other becomes a harpy. Their bright blue wings slash the air, a carrion reek needles my sinuses, and her squawking scream rattles through my skull.
My breathing stutters, but stays just as weak and unhelpful, as I squeeze my eyes shut.
Lucifer’s dark laugh does little to reassure me as I think about how utterly useless I am right now.
Without a shifter form, without the defence that everyone else has, I’m weak.
Pathetic.
Broken.
“Don’t be stupid. I’ve got a pardon from the Tribunal head himself,” Torin says, calm and infuriatingly confident.
I peek out from under my eyelashes, watching as Torin holds out a light green folder to the captain.
As the captain opens it up, I immediately spot the red stamp on the front page, and I know it’s truly authentic.
“Fucking Ashford,” Lucifer mutters so low I almost miss it.
My heart jumps at the idea of him starting a fight after we’ve just barely missed one.
“Who filed this?” the captain demands.
“Nobody, clearly, since it’s in your hand,” Torin says, shaking his head. “Now, are you going to continue holding us up here and denying my client her rights, or are you going to do your job and let us pass?”
The captain grunts and nods once. The two mythicals shift back into their human forms. The minotaur stumbles ever so slightly, and Lucifer chuckles.
Without another word, the captain swipes his badge, and the gate unseals with a hiss.
The compound air floods our vehicle, and fear burns its way to my lungs.
“Move, or I’ll run you down,” Torin says, and, somehow, the guards comply without him raising his voice.
I don’t know how he and Draven are friends because his attitude is disgusting.
That’s saying something coming from me.
Torin drives straight through, not stopping despite a trail of bright-white lights flickering to light as we approach them.
“Phones off, and make sure your windows are up. Do me a favour and use your brains for once in your life while we’re inside,” Torin says.
“And that means?” Hades drawls, smirking as the pantheral shifter hisses low. “Come on, T, it’s not my fault I was banished as a child. With the evil that clings to Luc and I, we’re not exactly cautious—it just means we’re idiots.”
Lucifer laughs darkly, and I’m surprised he’s not disagreeing with his cousin.
“No,” Torin mutters, climbing out, “you’re idiots because you’re idiots.”
“Even I thought that was a weak insult,” Kiaan says brightly.
He twists towards me instead of getting out of the car like Torin. “Don’t worry, Maeve. We’ll keep you safe. Just don’t touch anything—”
“I think you’re giving the wrong person a warning about touch,” I say evenly.
Lucifer’s icy blue eyes glint in the light, and he shakes his head at Kiaan’s confusion.
“Maeve doesn’t touch.”
“I see,” Kiaan lies, still smiling brightly.
Fool.
Torin raps on the glass, and I flinch, not having expected it. My heart is going to give in before this night is over, I just fucking know it.
Hadrian opens the door so that we can all get out.
I smooth out my dress and quickly adjust my hair so that it’s off my neck properly.
“This isn’t a fashion show, Maeve,” Torin snaps. “Get a hold of yourself. We’re not here for your theatrics.”
“Don’t talk to her like that, or we’ll be continuing without you,” Hadrian says.
His voice is low but calm, and, honestly, it’s quite exciting.
This is a fight I could get behind—not here, though. I’m not one to flirt with danger like they are.
“You think I’m pretty enough to be a model at a fashion show? Cute,” I say, ignoring Hadrian’s defence of me. “You’d never be able to afford a ticket to that performance, though, so you better get your looks in now.”
Even if he could afford it, he’s never going to make the invite list.
Torin’s mouth twitches like he bit into something sour. He turns and strides towards the entrance.