Chapter 29 Thou Shalt Not Hug Ghosts Too Tight. #2
I look at my sister’s tiny hand curled against my arm.
Something inside me hardens.
“My sisters will never end up there,” I breathe into the dark, quiet so I don’t wake her. “Never.”
Clenching my jaw in determination, I make the promise again, louder in my head.
I’ll get into the Academy. I’ll get strong enough. Then I’ll have enough money to keep them safe.
I clench my fists again, feeling the heat crawl through me. It’s fire in my chest.
Survival. Protection. I know I can do this, whatever power I awaken. I have to protect my sisters. No excuses. No backing down.
***
Present Day
A good workout and kicking the punching bag’s ass always help me after my nightmares. The sobbing of my sisters fading away as I push my heightened senses to move faster, attack quicker.
I leave the sparing grounds, my bag slung over one shoulder, sweat still clinging to my arms from the brutal session.
The mild chill of the academy winter bites at my neck, but I barely notice.
My mind’s elsewhere, running over the morning’s drills, Arwen’s laugh from the courtyard, the way she moves when she’s focused. The nightmare is a memory.
A shadow spills over me, and I turn to find the unwelcome presence of Ryker Blaise.
“What do you want?” I say, suspicious. I already don’t enjoy having to watch him fawn all over Arwen.
He stands there like he’s posing for a camera—hands in his pockets, shoulders loose, grin sharp. His stupid, perfect teeth flash like he’s enjoying some private joke.
“Brixton,” he says, voice smooth. “Walk with me.”
Not a request.
I don’t move, crossing my arms. He doesn’t seem bothered. He just steps in closer, invading my space like he bought it.
“Relax,” he says, eyes glinting. “I’m not here to fight you. If I wanted you on the ground, you’d already be there.”
My jaw clenches. I’d like to see him try.
He smirks—he likes that he gets under my skin.
“So,” he says, circling me once like he’s checking the price tag on a used car, “you’re cozy with Arwen.”
My spine tightens. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
“Mhm.” He hums like he doesn’t believe a single syllable.
“See, here’s the problem. Arwen… she’s special. Valuable. And you—” his eyes drag over me, slow, dismissive, “you’re… Wrath. Very punchy. Very earnest. But painfully replaceable.”
I grit my teeth more. He notices. Loves it.
“What’s your ability again?” he asks, pretending to dig for the memory. “Hyper-senses? Cute. Really. Every Wrath toddler pokes out their first tooth and gets something like that if I’m remembering correctly.”
My neck heats. “You know nothing about me.”
He gives a soft laugh.
“Oh, Brixton. I know everything I need to.” His voice drops, silk wrapped around a razor. “And here’s a truth for you—if I wanted you out of this academy, the only debate would be whether security drags you out by the shirt or by the ankles.”
My pulse spikes. “You’re bluffing.”
Ryker steps in until our foreheads almost touch. His cologne is something expensive and sharp, stinging my nose.
“A Greed heir doesn’t bluff,” he whispers. “We buy outcomes.”
My stomach sinks.
He leans back, grin widening. “So here’s your one free favor of the year: stay away from Arwen. No friendship. No jokes. No lingering stares.” His eyes go cold. “No touching.”
“She’s not yours,” I snap before I can stop myself.
His smile disappears like someone flipped a switch.
“She is,” he hisses. Deadly. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”
The courtyard goes still behind us. Even the chatter drops.
He lowers his voice again, each word dripping with ownership. “And I don’t enjoy sharing. Not with Wrath. Not with anyone.”
My fists curl tight enough my knuckles ache. My sisters, my plan, my future all flash through my mind.
One wrong move, and he ruins everything.
“…Fine,” I grind out. “Whatever. I’ll stay away.”
Ryker brightens—like the threat never happened. His grin snaps back into place, devastating and fake.
“Knew you’d be smart about this,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder like we’re buddies. His fingers squeeze a little too hard. “Wrath boys usually lead with their fists, not their brains. Refreshing to meet an exception.”
He turns to walk away, running a hand through his short dirty blonde hair. Then he glances back over his shoulder, smirk dangerous again.
“Oh—and Brixton?”
I look up despite myself.
He taps the side of his temple. “I see everything. Keep that in mind.”
I leave the grounds, shoulders stiff, each step heavier than the last. Ryker’s words echo in my head, slicing through every thought I had of Arwen.
If he makes good on his threat and I’m kicked out of the academy, the only place for me will be on the front lines.
And I can’t afford a caretaker with that measly wage.
I hate him. I hate everyone like him. The way he wields power like it’s a weapon. It’s too easy for him to shrink me down into nothing.
But I hate myself more, because I know he’s right. I don’t have the power to fight him on this.
My mind drifts unbidden to Arwen. The way she tilts her head when she laughs, like the world’s biggest secret tucked in her smile. The way she’s so impossibly stubborn, so fierce, but still… she trusts me. Sometimes. Enough to let me in for a second before the walls snap back up.
I kick the dirt. I can’t have her. Not like this. Not when I have too much at stake. My sisters. Their safety. The plan I’ve built since Dylan. One wrong step and everything crumbles.
I see her face in my mind, and it makes my chest ache. Every memory we’ve made—the courtyard laughs, the teasing, the stupid flirting that feels just a little dangerous—stings like salt in a wound.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to push it away, trying to remind myself of the rules I have to live by. Arwen can’t be mine. She’s my friend. My best friend. One of the few people who sees me as more than just a Wrath brat with nothing to offer. I can’t throw that away. But I have no choice.
I can’t tell her. I can’t risk her knowing what happened and blowing up at Ryker. He’d surely get me tossed out then.
I sink down by a tree, staring at the academy. Wishing that Ryker had never existed. That the academy didn’t run on power and fear, that I didn’t have a plan that demanded sacrifice. That I could just… be with her.
But I can’t. Not ever.
So I swallow the anger, the longing, the guilt. I tell myself that distance is the only option. Protecting my sisters is more important than protecting my heart.
I bury the thought of her deep enough that I can pretend I’ve let go—until the next time I see her, and my chest remembers all over again what I’m missing.