Chapter 21 Jasmine
Four days since Sai shared his past with me.
Five since Kane had me trapped between his arms.
Six since I last saw Ezekial, though he stays next door every night, I never actually see him.
Seven nights without Julien.
Each day, the weight of it all presses heavier against my chest. Each night, the edge I’m teetering on grows sharper, more perilous. Because Julien is still in the Pit, and I think about it constantly.
Even when I try to sleep.
New nightmares, but not the kind that wake me with screams, not ones I’ve ever had before. They’re dark, brutal things that don’t feel like dreams at all.
They feel real, like I’m seeing through Julien’s eyes, living his torment while I lie helpless in bed.
Sai still sees me every morning, but that only makes it worse. Because I can see what it’s doing to him. He’s exhausted, so much that even at a hundred years old, he can’t keep his mental wall up.
Without meaning to, he shares glimpses of the Pit with me, of Kane and Ezekial. Of their suffering.
Whenever I say their names, their distorted images appear, the darkness corrupting their features.
The horrific memory of Kane’s face marred by dark lines is no longer a memory, it’s happening again. But now, they’re spreading, to Ezekial, Julien… to all of them, except Sai. Instead, he just… fades, his colour leeching away.
Every time I look at him, I’m reminded of his past, of his mother, of the cage.
The need for revenge burns deep inside me, but it’s subdued by something stronger, the need to get Julien back.
Now I know the depth of what they share, how Julien saved him from an eternity of loneliness, how they’ve been together ever since.
And now Julien’s gone, consumed by his darkness. Chained in the Pit.
I keep asking to see him, to help, to share the burden. To ease his hunger, to force him to feed if I could. But every time, I’m refused.
I could push harder, remind them they promised me anything. But I see the exhaustion in their faces, feel it hanging in the air.
Ezekial still sleeps next door to make sure I can rest, but he’s barely there, only in fragments. Sai’s markings fade more each day. And Kane—Kane isn’t sleeping at all.
Not only is Julien suffering. They all are. Because of me.
The three of them give me their time, their energy, but they have other responsibilities.
Ezekial is the only Council member left in this district, shouldering every responsibility alone.
Kane pushes the enforcers in their hunt for Prospero, and Sai continues his interrogations, even while bearing the brunt of Julien’s care.
And still, they try to shield me, keep me at a distance. I had to drag those truths out of Sai, piece by piece, just to learn what else they were doing behind the scenes. Otherwise all I get are soft words, small smiles, and vague reassurances.
We agreed to be platonic bonds. To be equal. But this is not equal.
Well, they tried. But I’ve had enough.
I slip the small vial in and out of my jean’s pocket, fingers curling around the glass as I stare up at the coffee board. Sai still brings me here every morning, despite my protests that he should be resting, recovering.
He only ever smirks, shaking his head. But even his smirk is fading.
Goddesses, it aches to see him like this. Any of them.
“And I need you to put a shit tonne of syrup in them, with whipped cream, and something like cinnamon on top, okay? Thank you,” I rush out to the barista, the same guy from our first visit.
He nods, wide eyes darting to Sai who’s on the phone with one of the brothers.
“No problem, I’ll bring them over when—”
“No, I need them right here.” I tap the counter. “And I need you to make them fast, the quickest you’ve ever made any drink before. Please.”
I push my desperation into the air, feeding it into his already jittery pulse. He nods and immediately gets to work.
I glance over my shoulder, thankful that Sai still has his back to me, fingers raking through his hair that now touches his shoulders.
I only have a small slot to do this, the timing has to be perfect, there’s no margin for error.
I slip the vial back into my pocket and feel for the chain around my neck, the one I’ve never taken off. I sigh, squeezing it once, then force my shoulders to loosen, shaking off my nerves just as the first coffee hits the counter.
One down. Three to go.
Sai just needs to remain over there, out of the way, for a few more minutes while I—
“What concoction have you gone for today, Red?” His murmur makes me flinch. I look up, caught, his brow rising at my unusual reaction. “Something wrong?”
His genuine concern eases some of the frantic energy vibrating under my skin, but not much.
Deny. Deny. Deny.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, but it really isn’t. I study his face, the dark hollows under eyes that used to burn so bright.
Another coffee lands on the counter. Two to go.
My focus reignites. “How was Julien last night?”
If Sai’s appearance isn’t enough to confirm what I need to do, his deep exhale solidifies it. “Not great, baby.”
He’s started calling me that again, and I just don’t have the heart to stop him. Not when he looks like this. He probably knows it, probably takes advantage, but I’ll let it slide. For now.
“Y’know, if you took me with you, I really think I could help…” I try, for what feels like the hundredth time. “You don’t even need to tell the others, we could just…”
He’s already shaking his head, a dark curl dropping across his brow. “You’re not going down there, Red. You can’t see him in this state. He can’t see you while he’s like that.”
He shuts his eyes, and heavy dread fills the air. He’s seeing it, seeing him there, his friend—suffering.
A suffering I might be able to remove.
My chest aches. My decision made.
“Who’s with him now?” I ask, eyes darting to the third coffee as it’s set down.
“Zeek. I’ll drop you with Kane, then head down to swap out,” he says, while I worry my lip until it stings. He lowers himself so our eyes align. “Hey, you’re not worrying about the big guy, right? He’s just being dramatic.”
No. Well, yes. I am worried about Julien. Imagining him suffering in the Pit is a new nightmare I didn’t need to add to my collection. But right now, I’m absolutely shit-scared about what I’m planning to do.
But if that’s what Sai thinks I’m worried about, I’ll latch right onto it.
“He’s been in the Pit, starving himself, for a week, Sai. You’re all exhausted. Hardly sleeping. I think I should be a little worried.”
The fourth coffee is placed down, right beside us. Perfect. Except Sai is also right here. Right where I can’t have him looking.
He reaches out for one. “Good job I’ll have this to keep me—”
I step into his path, stopping his hand.
“Wait,” I blurt, pulse hammering.
What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?
His brows lift, smirk tugging despite his confusion.
“Close your eyes,” I say.
Think, think, think!
“Please, I want to try something,” My heart pounds.
This has to happen now, right now. I can’t wait another day.
With a small scrunch of his nose and a quick shake of his head, he does it. He closes his eyes.
I act immediately—lids off three coffees, vial tipped, equal pours, then just a touch more into one.
I did it.
I’m about to snap the lids back on when I remember Sai’s eyes are still shut, and he’s waiting for something.
My finger dips into the whipped cream crowning his cup. I tried to drown the bitterness in syrup and spice, and I pray to the Goddesses it’s enough.
When I brush the cream across his lips, his eyes fly open.
I freeze under his stare. Then his tongue slowly flicks out, licking the cream from his mouth.
“Do you like it?” I whisper, completely breathless, unable to look away.
“Trying to distract me?” he rasps, still tasting my skin.
Panic flares. What? Did he see me?
But it vanishes when he catches my hand, not allowing me to pull it back from his lips. The tip of his tongue sweeps back over my fingertip.
He does it again, and again, even when there isn’t a speck of cream left.
“Fuck, you’re such a good friend, Red,” he groans. In public. Barista right there. While looking at me like that.
Oh no.
I need to keep focused, but the way he says friend, like it’s the dirtiest word I’ve ever heard, has my full attention.
Until the fifth, and final coffee—my coffee—is plopped down.
“Thanks,” I turn to say, tugging my hand out of Sai’s grip.
Sai shoots a glare so vicious the poor barista almost knocks it over, then he stumbles straight into the wall before finding the door and vanishes.
I’m slotting the last drink into a cardboard carrier, when I feel him behind me.
“How long, Red?” he murmurs, breath ghosting the side of my throat. “How long are you gonna draw this out? Huh?”
His chest is inches from my back, almost touching, and I force myself to become a statue.
“I’m so fucking desperate for you, baby.” His nose skims my jaw, the weak glow of his markings still heating my skin. “I’ll beg. I’ll get on my hands and knees, right now. Just tell me when you’ll put me out of my misery.”
We don’t have time for this. I need to move, I need to get these drinks to them now.
“Soon,” I whisper, but it catches in my throat, because I’m desperate to feel more, but I need this to end. “We’ll talk tonight.”
His chest brushes my shoulders, lips lowering to my ear. “Promise?”
Then his tongue traces the shell of it, and I have to grip the counter. I nod quickly. I can’t handle words, and his soft chuckle says he knows it.
With one hand on my waist, the other grabs the carrier, and he flits us.
Kane is at Ezekial’s desk, in his chair, but rises as we arrive.
Now this is the tricky bit.
I grab Kane’s coffee and hold it out with a soft smile. He takes it, like always, but I can’t let him drink it yet. Not until the others have.
“You need to take these before the whipped cream melts,” I tell Sai with utter urgency, while trying to ignore how his markings flare at whipped.
When he lingers, I widen my eyes, willing him to understand how serious I am about this, even if it sounds ridiculous.
“And make sure you and Zeek both drink it. I can feel how tired you all are.”
Not a lie, but it definitely helps with my plan. I just have to hope Sai gives it to Ezekial straight away.
Kane must also say something privately to Sai, because one small smirk is all I get before he leaves.
I just pray the timing will be right.
I suck in a big, deep breath before turning back to face Kane. This is where it can all go terribly wrong and it hollows my stomach.
I have to shut down all my expressions. All my emotions. Every flicker of guilt, every twitch of fear, and pull on the calm he always carries.
“Try it, before it melts.” I nod at the drink in his hand with another small smile.
I know he’ll drink it, but I need him to drink it now.
He studies me, those dark eyes made even darker by the shadows clinging to his skin. But I don’t just see the impact from their time in the Pit—I feel it. The cold, cloying weight wrapped tight around him.
He sips.
A soft breath slips through my lips. I nod quickly, encouraging him to drink more.
He does.
My heart is pounding.
“Good?” I ask, praying the cinnamon masks any bitter trace.
He doesn’t get to reply. Not verbally.
He frowns, staring down at the drink.
My breath stutters. My heart slams against my ribs.
He looks up at me—then the shadows erupt.
He stumbles, the cup slipping from his hands, exploding across the floor.
And I feel so fucking sick.
I rush to him as he falls into Ezekial’s chair, and the second my fingers brush his arm, sharp terror slices me.
“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry, ” I babble in hushed words as he fights to keep his eyes open, his shadows curling around us.
Then it’s gone.
The terror snaps away. His eyes close. He slumps into the chair.
My hand falls, and I stare at the deadliest being I’ve ever met—one of my bonds—knocked out cold because I spiked his coffee with Henbane.
And it hits me.
I stumble. The ache in my chest ruptures as I feel the same abyss they once showed me, the one they drowned in when they thought I was dead.
The hollowness, the ache, a void where something thrumming once was.
But this… this is worse. Because I know they’re not dead.
I can see Kane breathing, but our connection feels shredded, mangled, ripped out, leaving nothing but a gaping wound festering with static.
I reach for his arm again, just to touch, to feel, but even with his skin beneath my fingers—there’s nothing. No soothing chill.
The void doesn’t ease.
What have I done?
No. They’re alive, they’re fine.
Five seconds. That’s all I’ll give myself, just five seconds to have a complete freak-out.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
That’s it, five seconds up. I wrench myself back from Kane, press my palms to my eyes, force myself to breathe, then pull out my phone. I send a single, shaky text to Kace—running late.
That’s it. No excuses, no lies.
But my hands tremble, the ache indescribable. I still can’t breathe. I count to ten, each second heavier than the last as I stare at Kane’s unconscious body. I have to do this. I can’t go back now.
But I never want to feel like this again.
I close my eyes, and think back to the nightmare. The Pit. Or maybe just what I imagined it to be. Will that be enough?
Endless walls of fire in an abyss of uncanny darkness. Shadows skirting along the stone edges, crawling like living things.
And then the part that ripped me out of sleep, drenched in sweat—the reason I went through with this dangerous plan.
Julien. Smooth, dark skin bound in chains. Wrists cuffed in iron, rubbed raw, bloodied. Those horrific, guttural screams.
A nightmare… or a living hell through his eyes? I need it to be the latter.
Because over the last few days, I’ve practised flitting.
I knew I could do it—I’d done it before, to the cave—but that didn’t make it easy.
Holding an image, breathing it in, then letting go. At first it was simple: bed to bathroom, bathroom to hallway, short little hops until the dots stopped flooding my vision and I could stay steady. Sometimes it felt less like learning, more like surrender, or instinct.
I couldn’t flit far, couldn’t risk them noticing, so I pushed my resilience instead. Flitting over and over, faster and faster, until my body stopped rebelling at the shift. Until the panic dulled and I could trust myself not to unravel.
And all of it has been for this, for a place I’ve never stood, only seen through Julien’s eyes. Kacey told me you can only flit places you’ve been, but what about places you’ve seen from another?
It could go terribly wrong. It might not work at all. But I have to try.
Gripping the small rock beneath my blouse, hoping Sai’s darkness can help, I imagine it.
Breathe. Repeat it. Breathe. Relive every detail I can remember...
And I flit.