Chapter 17 Thou Shalt Not Drag Monsters Into Morning Light
Thou Shalt Not Drag Monsters Into Morning Light
Maddox
Ihear her. My mother’s voice, raw and breaking. It tears itself out of her throat as if the sound alone could stop them. “You can’t take him! He’s mine. That’s my son!” The words claw at me, desperate, unstoppable. “MADDOX!!”
I twist in the arms carrying me, kicking, but it’s useless.
I’m just a boy, small, powerless, being dragged down the dim hallway of that crumbling apartment.
A crash inside the apartment causes me to jump.
Her sobbing echoes in my head. Why is she crying?
It gets loud—louder, louder—until it swallows everything.
I jerk awake, breath ripping out of my chest.
For a second, I’m still there. That hallway. Her voice. My name caught in her sobs.
I curse under my breath and rub my face.
It’s been years, but the damn dream keeps coming back, like a ghost with claws.
It shouldn’t. I’m Maddox West. One of the most powerful men in Gluttony.
I’ve broken enemies with my bare hands and brought men to their knees with a look. I am not a boy being carried away.
Throwing off the sheets, I drop to the floor, my fists pressing into the wood. Push-ups. Hard and fast. One after another until the burn swallows the memory. My muscles stretch, coil, ignite with the discipline that ensures my body can back any of my words.
The room is silent, the way I like it. Everyone else has to share—bodies crammed together in SinVail’s barracks they call dorms—but not me. No one dares question why I’ve got a space of my own. Rank. Fear. A reputation soaked into the walls. That’s enough to qualify me for privacy.
Until—chirp.
My phone lights up. I freeze mid-push-up, scowling at the interruption. Everyone knows not to bother me this early. Nobody in my ranks would interrupt my routine.
Which means it’s probably her again.
I sit back on my heels and grab the phone.
Sure enough. Arwen. Sinless, blue-eyed, sharp-tongued Arwen.
Somehow she’s got her claws into my skin, and I can’t even pin down when it happened.
She’s nothing like me—small, unpowered, a nobody in the hierarchy.
But she never flinches, never stumbles over her words.
She throws her sass at me like knives, daring me to catch them.
Most people avoid me. She doesn’t.
And maybe that’s why I keep letting her.
I unlock the screen. The message is brief, just like her other messages last couple weeks. Canceling tutoring today.
My jaw tightens. Again.
Something’s off. She’s been pulling back, avoiding me, hiding behind excuses. I’ve let it slide. Until now.
My thoughts shift, slow and deliberately, circling like a predator. I remember the day Atticus pulled her aside, months back. He whispered something in her ear that she wouldn’t share, no matter how I pressed. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s something worse.
Either way, I’ll find out.
Arwen can bail on sessions all she wants. Doesn’t matter. It’s not going to undo the way she’s hooked herself into me without permission.
And I’m done pretending I don’t notice.
***
I wait outside the cafeteria during dinner. I never eat here—why would I? Sitting out in the open like a target, giving anyone the chance to take a shot at me? My family’s eyes stretch farther than I can see. Their reach doesn’t stop at the academy gates.
Enemies linger in corners, waiting for the moment I slip. To eat here is to invite weakness. To announce who you’re tied to. Who you trust. Who could be used against you.
Even the smallest things—what’s on your plate, how fast you eat it, whether you go back for seconds—become weapons in the right hands. A preference is a vulnerability.
An allergy is a death sentence.
My brothers and sisters would buy those scraps of information to claw their way closer to Father’s approval, to carve their place at the table larger by clawing me out of it. And that’s not even mentioning enemies outside our faction. It’s the way our world works.
So I don’t eat here. Every move I make has to be intentional, every detail calculated. Control is survival.
And survival is the only thing that matters.
But Arwen eats here.
Besides freshmen, It’s mostly kids who can’t afford call-in meals or private chefs eat here, or the ones like ‘almighty heir Atticus’ who want the entire world to see their power and status as if it matters.
I watch as students walk out. Their posture frigid and wary. They’re not used to my attention scrutinizing them.
She slips out with her friends, their heads bent close in serious conversation. My pulse kicks harder than I’d like to admit. I move before I can stop myself and catch her shoulder.
She turns, and her friends stop and stiffen. The three Wrath friends eye me like I’m the enemy. The Gluttony friends flick their gaze away, fear tugging them down like weights.
Arwen studies me, and for the first time, I think I see fear in her eyes. Not the kind I’m used to, the sharp flinch people give when they remember who I am. This is different. Defiant. Like she’s holding her ground even though her hands are shaking inside.
“What do you want?” she asks, her voice clipped.
“I need to talk to you,” I say.
“I’m busy.”
That’s it—I know I’ll get nowhere if I make it a request. “It’s not a question.”
Her eyes flash, but she tells her friends to go on without her. When they’re gone, the air feels heavier, as if it’s pressing down on just the two of us.
“Follow me.” I guide her up one of the side towers, to a smaller courtyard a few floors above, quiet and private. My chest feels too tight.
“What’s going on with you?” I ask.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” She shrugs, playing aloof, but I’m not buying it.
“You’ve been canceling our tutoring sessions. I see how you ice me out in class. Something happened.” My voice hardens before I can soften it. “Something’s bothering you.”
Her face is unreadable. I push further, the words burning out before I can think better of them. “Is it Atticus? Did that smug Pride bastard bad-mouth me? Is he threatening you to stay away from me?”
She laughs—too forced—and rolls her eyes. “Why would Atticus have any power over what I do?”
“Then tell me what’s going on.” I say sharper than I mean to.
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I can’t help it if I’m getting too busy to tutor you.” She says, panicked and irritated. “I don’t care about the potion you promised. You can keep it. I just—” she falters, swallowing hard. “I just want you to leave me alone….”
“So, unless you’re going to use your power and influence to force me to tutor you… can I please go now?” She grits out, words trembling on the edge of challenge.
I drag in a deep breath, my shoulders locking up like I’m bracing for a hit I can’t avoid. The bench groans under me as I drop onto it, elbows digging into my knees. I bury my face in my hands, trying to hold myself together long enough to find the words.
“Look… I’m sorry I dragged you up here just to corner you.
” The words taste bitter. “I know what people say about me, what my reputation is. I can live with that—I’ve been living with it my whole damn life.
But I’ve never seen fear in you—” My fingers twitch against my temple, like even saying it burns.
“—until now. Not about me. Not about my name. And that…” My chest tightens, a sharp ache cutting through me.
I shake my head, exhaling hard. “That cuts deeper than anything else.”
I rub a hand over my jaw, trying to keep my tone from cracking, my eyes darting anywhere but her face. Every word feels like I’m prying something raw out of my chest.
“I’m not good at this. At… friends. At letting people in.
” The words scrape out of me like gravel.
“Outside of my most loyal members, most people either flinch when they see me coming, or they cozy up, waiting to dig out whatever they can sell to my brothers or sisters. But you—you didn’t.
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t dig. And being around you…
” I stop, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat.
“It was like shutting off the noise for once. Like I didn’t have to measure every bite I take, every word I say, every step I make. ”
My voice breaks, frustration flaring hot, and I force it flat again.
“I liked that. I valued that. I valued you. And if that’s gone, fine. I’ll deal with it.”
“But if someone’s gotten in your ear, if there’s something I don’t know…” My voice drops, ragged. “I want the chance to defend myself. No one else is going to fight for me. Just give me that much. Please.”
Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag, knuckles whitening. “Why would people sell information to your brothers and sisters?”
I groan as I breathe out a low laugh. “They don’t teach you anything at all about Gluttony in Wrath, do they?”
“Never thought I’d need to know more than where to point to it on a map.” She sasses back.
That’s better. I’ll take her sass over her fear.
“My brothers and sisters would buy any information that could be used against me, either for their own gains to step on my power or take part of my territory, or to use as a weakness to show my father…” I give her a straight answer. “There are a lot of ways information could be used against me.”
“So, your family just tears each other apart? For power? Why? Isn’t your family already the most powerful in Gluttony? What more could they want?”
“It’s how it’s always been, Arwen. The members of my family make up the various gangs, but there is only one top spot.
Only one Councilor role… and there are many reasons I would not want to see any of my siblings in that spot, but I guess the biggest reason would be that it would mean the end of my life.
” I run my hands over my head, wishing my hair were long enough to grab.
“Your siblings would kill you?” she asks, scanning me with disbelief, though the crease between her brows betrays her concern.
“Not just me, but likely anyone still alive who could have a claim to the seat. Notice my father has no remaining siblings. It’s a brutal business just getting to the top, but once you're there, you need to make sure your hard work doesn’t go to waste.”
“So you would kill your brothers and sisters?” She asks, still holding her tone of disbelief.
“I would if I had to.” I respond, looking her dead in the eyes. “I know it’s difficult to understand Arwen, but it’s the way of my people.”
She jerks her chin up, eyes narrowing to slits. “And what about your people you lord over who get hurt along the way?”
“That’s why I fight.” I reply, raising my voice a little in emotion. “I have very different ideals from most of my brothers and sisters. Most see our people as only a tool. I do what I do to keep them from ruling. To keep them from gaining more territory…”
“If you’re so much better than why are people so afraid of you?” She challenges.
“Fear is power, Arwen. I know you struggle to understand where I’m coming from on most of this, but surely you can understand that, coming from Wrath. To protect people, they must be kept in line.
“Wrath can be a power grab just like Gluttony, and fear can be a tool for maintaining that power, but we don’t hurt the weak and innocent to instill that fear.”
“If you really think that, I would challenge you to look again. You’ve seen no one put down someone weaker to gain more status?”
Her shoulders twitch at my words, but her gaze stays pinned to the floor.
“Universe, Arwen, look at yourself? You’re telling me all was fair for you in your city? That you weren’t treated differently or stepped on because you didn’t have a sin power?”
“We’re not talking about me!” She yells back.
We sit in silence. This is going in the exact wrong direction of how I wanted it to.
“Look, I’m sorry, ok. But can we just agree that maybe we don’t have each other all figured out? That we come from totally different places and we’re not going to wrap our heads around every little thing in a single conversation.”
She takes a deep breath. “I can agree to that.”
“Good, now back on topic. What the hell has been..”
“What does your mother think?” She interrupts.
I stumble over my words. Thrown off guard by a question I wasn’t anticipating. “Wh… what?”
“What does your mother think? Obviously your father encourages these power plays, but I can’t imagine your mother, who birthed you all, appreciates you going around trying to kill each other?” She asks. “Or is she as heartless as you all?”
I look at the ground. This isn’t a subject I’m comfortable broaching. “My mother is not heartless. She’s also not up for discussion. None of us have the same mother, and mine isn’t involved in the family dynamics.”
Her silent response respects my wishes.
Finally, she takes a deep breath and stands. “Look, I’m not saying I’m your friend or that I support anything you do. But if you're truly the better option of the family for the Councilor’s seat, then I will continue tutoring you… because your politics grades are really struggling.”
I laugh as I stand. “I’ll take all the help I can get. Thank you."
As she walks away, I feel a weight lift off my chest. I have no idea how I let this girl under my skin.