2. Luna
LUNA
As I stride toward my room, I fold the mysterious paper into six even folds, stopping outside the door to work the two creases. Inside the room, someone curses. Masculine. Smooth; not Father. No sign of Thorne’s deep baritone—
Sawyer.
My heart pauses.
My hand slips on my back pocket, and I have to try twice to slide the paper inside. The door slams against the wall as I throw it open, then immediately regret the careless act. If anyone came to investigate the noise, I don’t know how I would explain this. I can’t make sense of it myself.
Sawyer.
Tangled up in dark curtains, one side still half-hanging by a single hook. My throat closes up; my eyes sting as though the room is filled with smoke—though I can smell the cold-bitten, fresh air through the open window.
I nearly hop a single step toward him, then stop just as abruptly.
I could bury myself into his chest or shove him out the window; both urges are equal.
“What are you doing here?”
Sawyer untangles himself from the curtain with a final curse before limping to me like he rolled his ankle.
No answer. No explanation. His face twists in a pained way that makes my eyes draw to his ankle, but I’m snapped straight as he takes my face with rough hands.
His lips crash more than they kiss—worlds away from passionate, but a mirror to the twist of my gut.
Relief.
I’m tense only for a fraction of a second.
My palms cup the fleece of his jacket, wet from sweat and melted snow.
His mouth is warm, but his lips are cold, and the contrast is both sharp and addictive.
I’m pulled closer, until I smell him with every desperate inhale.
It’s the scent that lingered in his room—free of sweetness, devoid of leather.
When Sawyer finally pulls away, his hands still holding my face, he presses his forehead to mine and blows a breath against my lips.
“I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re okay.”
“What?” I blink, giving my head a small shake. The danger of this situation rushes back to me all at once.
He shouldn’t be here.
He runs a thumb along the bony jut of my chin, his face pained as he takes me in. Finally, I realize what he’s talking about.
The ceremony. He was afraid I’d lose.
My eyelids flutter closed as he brushes his lips over my swollen eye—just a quick sweep, soft as a butterfly’s wings. Gentle and delicate, as if I’m worthy of such care. Wasted concern. I know too well how to take a punch.
But for whatever reason, I don’t correct him or set the record straight. With any other man, I’d be repelled by the insult.
“You can’t be here.” My voice is so firm, so certain. You wouldn’t know how difficult it was to say. “As soon as Father learns—”
“I have a plan for that.” Sawyer kisses my forehead as he strokes the hair at my temple. My hands press to his chest as I wait for him to go on.
“I’m gonna reinitiate.”
I stiffen. When I shove his chest, he stumbles back a step. “That’s your plan? That isn’t the way it—”
“I know.” He nods. “But your father will go for it… I couldn’t give you what you wanted, but I can give him what he wants.
I have a few million in an offshore account, but more than that, I’ve spent the last year robbing spoiled rich kids.
” Sawyer takes a bold step forward and circles my waist with his big, scarred hands.
“You give me a computer, and I can make you millions.”
“You mean you can steal millions.”
He shrugs. “What’s the difference?”
The difference…
I glare down at his hands on my hips until he feels the heat of my gaze. Letting go, he gives me the barest of space. “I needed your expertise because it was absolutely necessary for the well-being of my people… We have no use for a thief.”
“Your father—”
“My father isn’t the sole decider of things. I’m in charge of the initiates; I decide who can bring value to the Shadow Sanctum.”
My thoughts drift to the millionaire in the other room, probably still waiting for me to deliver a whore.
Cancerous, devastating to the purity of my home.
For all my hope that he’d belong, four hundred million dollars is still not enough to welcome that parasite.
Even while I bind myself to a thief inarguably less honorable.
Hypocrite.
“What I’m trying to say,” I take Sawyer’s hand, “is that you have far more to offer than thievery… You’re right. My father will be pleased about the few million you already have. It’ll make him listen.”
Maybe. Compared to the new initiate, it seems rather insignificant.
Mr. Sanchez’s death will help.
“It won’t make him respect you,” I say, though I’m not sure it matters to Sawyer. “But I have a way you can earn it. And earn the respect of all of my people.”
And earn the respect of me.
A future forms in my mind that’s too dangerous to take seriously. But I let it come anyway.
Then Thorne’s image makes it shatter.
Sawyer squints as he waits for me to go on.
I don’t. Initiates aren’t told their tests in advance. And if Sawyer knew that the test I’m going to give him, the one I know he can pass even when every other person has failed… he might get upset.
It may be traumatic for him, given his past.
Sawyer blinks at me. “Are you going to—” His eyes bulge as he catches something over my shoulder. “Jesus Christ.”
He stumbles backward into the wall, nearly falling when his ankle seems to give out.
A cold, metallic taste enters my mouth, like biting down on tinfoil, sharp and nauseating. I expect Father to be looming as I whip around.
But it’s only the initiate.
My chest loosens on a sigh I’m quick to correct with the squaring of my shoulders. I cup my hands in front of me.
“Am I interrupting?” Mr. Sanchez asks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I shake my head. “Ignore Mr. Hansley. He’s a bit skittish.” Taking a step to the side, I reveal Sawyer and sweep a hand toward our guest. “Sawyer, this is Mr. Sanchez. He’s a new initiate. I was just showing him his room when you…”
I frown at Sawyer’s posture. Tense. Defensive. His knees slightly bent, fingers half curled into fists. He looks like he’s about to fend off an attack. As if I would ever let someone so insignificant hurt him.
“Pleasure.” Mr. Sanchez nods before addressing me. “I was wondering where the bathroom was.”
I point through the wall. “Down the hall. Second door on the left.”
He gives me a polite smile—the charming are always the vilest, aren’t they? —before retreating like he’s going to leave us. He stops himself, snaps his finger, and looks at Sawyer. “I’m sorry, do I know you? You look incredibly familiar.”
Sawyer’s mouth fumbles on words that don’t quite form. Quite a sight for such a composed liar.
What a day this has been for him.
“Oh.” Mr. Sanchez snaps his fingers again as he looks up at the ceiling. He jabs his index finger in Sawyer’s direction. “I know what it is. I saw you on the news. They busted you for having a trafficking ring. Is that right?”
Sawyer shrugs, but he must be offended. I’ve never seen him brush off that particular accusation.
Mr. Sanchez smiles like he’s somehow satisfied instead of disgusted like a decent human being would be.
“So are you the supplier here?” He flicks his finger between Sawyer and me while I fantasize about cutting it off.
“No,” Sawyer’s finally quick to say.
“What is it you believe Mr. Hansley is supplying?” I ask Mr. Sanchez, finally drawing his eyes to me. He doesn’t answer.
Coward.
“I think you may have misunderstood the Sanctum’s values.” My hands clasp at my waist, thumbs tapping at a pace just shy of furious. “I’m aware of Mr. Hansley’s past, but that isn’t the type of thing we condone here.”
His smile falls. Something dangerous flicks in his eyes, the tell-tale rage of a man unaccustomed to being challenged.
Ha.
“Is that right?” His jaw barely moves as he speaks. I don’t know how he manages to make his voice so buttery.
As my mouth opens, Sawyer pushes past me. His body blocks Mr. Sanchez’s while he extends his hand toward the hall. “Right so, like Luna was saying, bathroom is the second door on the left. Do you want me to show you?”
Despite Sawyer crowding him, Mr. Sanchez doesn’t budge. I don’t see what happens, but I feel tension wind tight in the room.
“Nope,” Mr. Sanchez says at last. “I think I can find it on my own. But thanks, Mr. Hansley.”
As soon as he’s gone, Sawyer shuts the door. The click of the lock draws my eyes to the knob. I haven’t had a need for that lock in four years.
“What’s wrong?”
Sawyer shoves a hand through damp, shaggy hair. His feet shift as if he’s about to pace, but he seems to think better of it.
“Father doesn’t typically speak to initiates until they’ve passed their test. You don’t need to worry about Mr. Sanchez telling anyone he saw you here… I’ll have everything worked out by morning.”
Sawyer's eyes flick chaotically. I search his mouth, and—yes, his teeth are tapping. His lack of faith is … surprising?
Did I expect him to have faith in me? He wasn’t even sure I’d win the fight.
I go to him; put my hand on his shoulder. “Hey…”
“Is he staying here?”
I blink. “What?”
“The initiate. Is he staying in this house tonight?”
I hike my shoulders. Let them fall. “Yes. Father believes he has a lot to offer us. We keep initiates like him close until their membership is official.”
“I don’t want you staying in the same house as him.” Sawyer shifts so close, his jacket’s zipper grazes my stomach, and I have to bend my neck back to look at him. I’d think he wanted to kiss me if his face didn’t look so serious. “I don’t trust him.”
He doesn’t trust him…
Half a laugh lifts my chest. “Neither do I. But I assure you, I can care for myself.”
“Luna…”
My head tilts while I watch him wrangle with his thoughts. So many emotions seem to pass over his handsome face, he doesn’t even look like Sawyer until at last, he stills. Something lights up his eyes. But when he turns them to me, they’re narrowed.
“Luna… Are you attracted to him?”
I rear back with a grimace. “What?”
“I saw the way you looked at him. I’m not…
” His hands lift. He doesn’t stop me when I distance myself.
“I’m not trying to accuse you of anything.
But I just threw away my freedom because I couldn’t bear the idea of leaving you behind.
If there’s something I should know, some thing you have for new initiates—”
“What are you talking about?” I try to laugh, but it comes out stilted. Confused, not nervous—until a moment later when, for some reason, I’m afraid it comes off as guilty.
There was a mild attraction for the initiate upon meeting him. More recognition than anything else. I—
This is ridiculous even to analyze.
“He’s staying in your quarters. He’s staying in my old room.”
“Yes, the one he asked me to deliver a Seraph to, less than twenty minutes ago. He’s a parasite, Sawyer.” Handsomely repulsive. “Why are you acting jealous?”
“I’m not jealous,” he says with all the assurance of a sweating con artist. “I’m sensing a pattern and expressing concern. If you’re going to be sleeping down the hall from a conveniently handsome replacement initiate, handpicked by you, I think I’m justified in—”
“I suggest you not finish that sentence.”
He holds up his hands, conceding, I think. But no. “If he sleeps here, I sleep here. That’s all I ask.”
My brows pull together, the skin of my forehead growing tight. I can’t tell whether to be insulted or … something else. For a man who claims to know me, his assessment of my ability to protect myself is wildly lacking.
Unless he actually is jealous…
Pitifully unlikely.
“This isn’t charming,” I say with a voice that must make my contempt clear. “Frankly, this is the worst acting I’ve ever seen from you. Whatever concern you—”
The horn blares, turning my attention to the open window. It’s a siren really, long low notes that come one after the other. It means trouble.
The other Keepers know about the escape.
Or, more likely, Father knows Persephone is missing. I’ve never been more grateful for an interruption.
I turn back to Sawyer. “My father must have realized Persephone is missing… I have to take care of this. Go wait for me at the training house. It’ll be safe there.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave you. I’ll talk to your father now, and—”
“Are you insane?” I narrow my eyes. “He thinks you're still at the mines. He’ll punish us both if he realizes I let you out early. And his pet is missing. He…” I don’t even bother finishing the thought.
Instead, I sigh, rise onto my toes, and kiss Sawyer’s cheek.
“Wait for me at the training house. I’ll be there as soon as I can. ”
“Luna,” he hisses when I walk toward the door.
I ignore him and turn the lock before shoving through the door. My composure rights itself as I make my way down the stairs and out into the cold, winter air. I feel my face harden and my abs contract. If I spoke, I know my voice would be as cold as the snow beneath my boot.
For the hours I join the Keepers in search of the missing girl, I’m lost in my head. Trying to understand Sawyer is like trying to solve an impossible riddle—and after an hour the need for answers dims. His bizarre behavior hardly even matters.
He came back.
I’m not naive enough to believe it was for me, but whatever his reason, it wasn’t selfish. I suspect he knew his freedom would come at a cost.
If only he knew I was willing to pay it.