Chapter 7 #2
The terminal smells like honey and antiseptic. A camera clicks on—blinking red, judging, deciding. The door buzzes as we reach it, and Kiaan holds it open for each of us to come through, his grin still in place like this is all a game.
The interior hits me like a memory I didn’t invite—dim light, stale air, and a hum that sounds too much like locks engaging. My chest tightens as the feeling of being caged washes over me.
It’s not a trap, I tell myself.
Not this time, anyway.
If only my heart would listen and stop trying to explode.
My chromius doesn’t believe me. She’s a ring of sparks against my skull, furious and messy, as she tries her best to push forward and get me to obey her.
Fool.
She’s the reason we’re here in the first place. If only we’d been something small, unimportant. A mouse. A beetle. Anything but this.
I had no choice.
My chromius hisses liar, liar, liar, and I don’t know if she means me or him.
I look down at the ground, trying to regulate myself, as a crackly voice booms through the speaker overhead.
“Welcome to TRAC. We’re so grateful you decided to interrupt our night with your demands.”
My whole body tenses as I mentally prepare for some attack. Lucifer shifts closer to my left, but Hadrian’s too far from my right.
Someone could slip in that gap, and…
“Location?” the voice asks.
“Holding Medical. Ward B,” Torin says confidently.
Arrogantly is more accurate.
In this instance, though, I’m more than happy for him to take the lead. I don’t have the energy, confidence, or desire.
“Make your way to processing,” the voice says, and the line goes dead.
We climb the short flight of steps, and the door sighs shut behind us, sealing the outside world away completely.
My chromius whimpers—a low, vibrating noise under my ribs—and I fight to keep my breathing steady. I do not want Luc or Hades realising that I’m struggling and think that I’m fragile and incapable.
Especially if they’re going to assume it’s because I’m unfit rather than due to anxiety.
Hell, Torin would probably fill out the paperwork himself to get me tranquillised and committed.
The corridor stretches ahead—narrow, fluorescent, and with the kind of architecture that makes the walls feel narrower than they actually are.
Boots echo on the concrete, and I’m pretty sure they’re doing it just to terrify me because I can’t see a single person.
Despite that, the cameras swivel as we walk, following us down the path, the red blinking light seems like an omen.
Of Julian’s death.
My chromius scrapes harder at the inside of my skull, sparks behind my eyes, impatient and loud.
I keep my hands still and count my breaths until Torin’s voice slices through the silence.
“Remember your brains.”
He doesn’t break stride as we walk down the corridor. He has no real understanding of how dangerous this place is—or maybe he does and just doesn’t care.
Which is terrifying.
The guards could kill us before the prisoners even blinked, never mind the dangerous and lethal shifters that are locked up here.
“As in don’t improvise, don’t posture, don’t give them a reason to put hands on any of us.”
“Define posture. It’s not my fault I’m naturally photogenic,” Lucifer says, flipping his coin without looking.
Sunshine and knives. Insanity without morals.
“That’s your worst crime,” Hades says, deadpan.
“That,” Torin snaps without turning. “Exactly that.”
Kiaan hums under his breath, pleasantly unbothered. “I think it’s rather charming.”
The more I learn about Kiaan, the more concerned I get. He’s unhinged and fits in far too well with my morally challenged bodyguards. And yet, somehow, he seems rather innocent at the same time.
“Charm gets people killed,” Torin mutters.
“No,” Hades drawls, “your personality does.”
I giggle, ducking my head when Torin’s gaze snaps to me. The look of disgust on his face should bother me, but it just makes me laugh harder.
Luc snorts, too. “Finally, something we can agree on, Baby Cuz.”
“It’s not really an agreement when it’s fact,” Hades counters.
Lucifer’s grin flashes. “Noted. Now, if you could stop breathing on me—”
“Enough,” Torin growls, and the word echoes down the corridors. Goosebumps coat my bare skin, and I know it’s more due to fear than the cold.
The pantheral hiss that leaks out of Torin isn’t human, but he swallows it before it shows teeth. Score one for self-control.
But we still made him break.
We reach processing, and I’m so fucking grateful we left everything in the car. The room smells like plastic and citrus, and the four guards in the corners are hulking and intense.
The two scanners beep out of spite as the door slams shut behind us, and I’m worried I’m going to need a pat down.
Lucifer flips his coin high, and the nearest guard jumps like he’s been yanked by an invisible string.
“Don’t,” Torin warns.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Lucifer lies.
“He was thinking about it,” Hadrian taunts, and Lucifer flips him off.
“Vicious slander, I swear.”
Hades leans close, then stops himself an inch from my shoulder. “You good?”
I roll my eyes as a warmth spreads through me at his concern. “Perfect.”
He nods. “Yes, you are.”
Ugh.
“Perfectly fucking entitled,” Torin mutters before nodding at the metal detector. “One at a time—Maeve, you go first.”
“Maeve will not go first, thank you very much,” Lucifer says, walking through it himself. It doesn’t do anything other than beep once, and I tilt my head in confusion.
The silence is unnerving, and I know for a fact he’s got metal on him.
“They’re not metal detectors,” Kiaan explains, catching my confusion. “They take a scan of you, and someone up there will alert the guards if there’s anything to be concerned over.”
“Like what?” I ask, watching as Hadrian walks through after Lucifer. Torin walks to the second one, clearly not forcing me to go before him.
“Drugs, weapons, presents,” Kiaan says, shrugging. “Whatever someone would smuggle in, I suppose.”
When it’s my turn, the scanner hums to life. A faint warmth crawls across my skin, like invisible fingers tracing every scar I’ve tried to forget. It makes my stomach churn, and I have to force myself to stay in place.
My chromius thrashes, sharp and wild, desperate to move, to escape. This is fucking horrid.
I hold my breath and wait for it to find fault in me, but the light flickers green, and nobody screeches at me for breaking rules.
“See? Easy,” Kiaan says, grinning as if that proves something.
He steps forward, thanking each guard by surname. “Appreciate you, Duarte. Thank you, Patel.”
They stiffen, unsettled that he knows them even with masks on. I find the power play quite intriguing, though.
Each familiar name sparks a memory in me, too—faces, families, finances. The archives really were such a vital part of my time here, and it’s given me plenty of knowledge to ruin people.
Well, until my safe haven was ruined by Adrian Graves.
Selfish, prick.
The next door unlocks with a heavy clunk, and we step through. The air changes—stale, metallic and dripping with power.
A chill wracks my body, and I feel my chameleon’s ache for freedom, her desperation to be able to shift.
I can feel the cameras watching us, but I feel extremely uncomfortable without a guard or someone supervising us, just in case.
Luck is never on my side, so if there were to be a breakout at TRAC, it would happen today.
Well, tonight.
Instead, we’ve got Torin walking ahead like he owns the place, shoulders squared and smug, the self-appointed master of the labyrinth.
We wind through corridor after corridor—grey walls, strip lights, and that low electrical hum that makes skin crawl. I lose count of the turns, instead monitoring my own anxiety.
My nerves are on fire, my heart pounding against my ribs. My chromius is unsettled—urgency flooding us both—and I have no choice but to blame it on adrenaline.
Lucifer notices, because of fucking course he does.
“You’re pale,” he murmurs. The softness to his voice sounds wrong in a place as dark as this.
“I’m fine.” I don’t meet anyone’s eyes as I lie through my teeth.
“She’s lying,” Hades says.
“Of course, she’s lying,” Lucifer replies, flipping his coin, as he gives his cousin a death look.
“Both of you shut up,” Torin cuts in. He turns to give me an assessing look. “If you’re going to be a liability, I’ll have you escorted back to the car. The last thing we need is a hysterical meltdown in the hallway.”
I’m far too anxious to bite back, and I hate myself for showing Torin how weak I am.
It’s embarrassing, and, in this place, it’s the last thing I should be doing.
“A meltdown?” Lucifer echoes, his voice soft and dangerous. “The only thing shutting down here will be your heart when I end your pathetic life.”
“Try it. But keep her moving while you’re at it,” Torin scoffs, continuing to walk without another look back.
The fluorescent light buzzes through my teeth, and the walls seem to breathe with us.
Every few steps, my chromius sends a jolt down my spine, a desperate pulse that feels like someone whispering my name from far away.
Finally, Torin stops in front of a steel door stamped “Holding Medical—Ward B.”
My chest tightens so hard that my breaths are shallower than well… me.
It had to be done. Then why does it feel like we’re already at the part where I bleed for it?
Once again, Kiaan’s the one to open the door for us, and a nurse in mint scrubs materialises in front of the desk.
“You’re here for Patient J.G., correct?” she asks, and Lucifer nods before Torin can speak. “Perfect. Class A watch. Twelve hours post-penetrating abdominal injury. He’s stable.”
Twelve hours.
Fucking hell.
My stomach tightens with dread. My bile arrives sharp and ready, but I swallow it back down. My chromius surges so violently I have to bite my lip to keep from gasping. She’s thrashing now—impatient, wild, and desperate.
She wants to see him.
Wants to confirm whether he’s alive or not.
She doesn’t trust the nurse, and, honestly, neither do I, but, in this instance, my chromius and I are hoping for different outcomes.
“Per Writ 19-C,” Torin says, already shoving a folder into the nurse’s hands, “the accused must be presented to the complainant. Since he’s unable to move, we’ve come to him.”
His tone could cut glass, but the nurse barely reacts.
The nurse waves a badge across the panel on the wall behind her, and there’s a long hiss, then the lock releases.
“Only two at a time in his room,” she says, but Torin ignores her and strides through first.
Of course, he does.
The corridor beyond narrows again. I can smell disinfectant, old metal, and blood that someone tried and failed to scrub from tile.
Every step forward thickens the air until it feels like breathing through syrup.
My chromius is no longer whispering—she’s screaming, clawing against the inside of my ribs, a trapped thing that knows what waits ahead.
“If you need out, say so,” Lucifer says softly, his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear.. “I’ve already escaped from here once, so doing it again will be easy.”
“Liar,” Hades mutters, and though he’s being careful to not touch me, his hand hovers near my arm, and it’s scaring me.
“Fine, it’ll be a challenge, but it’ll be fun,” he says, waggling his brows. “Trust me, pretty princess.”
I almost laugh, but it catches halfway up my throat and turns into a shiver.
My chromius is pulling me now, as though the marrow in my bones has a direction it’s desperate to go.
“Move it,” Torin orders to us stragglers. “We don’t have all night.”
I really want to stab him.
I only follow because I have no choice—if I stop, I’ll shatter.
Torin pushes the door marked ‘J.G.’ open, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust.
The room is small and harshly lit. Machines beep in a slow rhythm beside the hospital bed, and there are so many wires.
My chromius leaps forward, trying to drag me closer to the bed because she sees him just as much as I do.
He’s unconscious but alive.
The light pegasus is bandaged across his bare stomach and exceptionally pale. The smell of his blood incites a rage like no other, but not from me.
No, this comes from the animal within.
His black curls splay across the pillow, but they’re matted and look a little dirty. It’s clearly not been cared for in the last twelve hours.
His scent hits me like lightning—white leather and grapefruit, impossible to forget, and impossible to ignore.
The impact steals every scrap of air from my lungs.
My chromius screams in desperation. I don’t understand how she could care.
Why she’d care.
But she does.
“Julian,” I whisper, but it comes out broken, more exhale than word.
The beeping quickens. Somewhere behind me, Lucifer curses under his breath, and Hades steps forward before I can fall to my knees.
“Easy,” he says carefully. His voice sounds far away, as if I can’t register it properly.
Torin doesn’t care about my reaction. “Stay back, both of you. We don’t need another incident.”
“Incident?” Lucifer repeats, his voice going dark. “Try saying that again, Ashford, and I’ll make good on these promises. I’ll even let you pick the vein.”
“Enough,” Torin snaps. “He’s restrained, he’s stable, and we’re not here to cause a war.”
I want to hit him. I want to tear through the wall between us and whatever invisible force is clawing under my skin. My chromius pounds like a second heart, furious and terrified.
I want him dead. It’s that fucking simple.
Until an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the noise.
“I see you ignored protocol again, Torin.”
Every sound in the room stops, my breathing silences, and I think even my heart decides to give up.
Adrian steps out from behind the privacy curtain, immaculate as ever in his tailored black suit that shows off his broad shoulders and thick thighs. His gaze lands on me and doesn’t move.
Unlike his nephew, Adrian’s scent is completely clean of blood. Instead, it’s leather and amber with a false hint of rain.
Clean on the outside, rotten underneath.
I hate him.
His steel blue eyes are unwavering, and his salt-and-pepper short hair is pristine.
“Hello, Maeve,” he says, calm as sin, despite the situation we’ve walked in on. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”