Chapter 33 Thou Shalt Not Stand in the Lair of Liars #2
Something is wrong.
It’s Arwen. It has to be.
The truth settles over me with brutal certainty, the same instinct that seized me the day she fled the locker room in fear. Only now the pull is stronger—devastating, undeniable.
She’s in danger.
And every instinct I possess is screaming at me to go.
I dress in seconds, not with my usual precision. My hand moves directly to the loose brick in the wall, retrieving the dagger hidden there, the familiar weight grounding me for half a breath.
Then I’m moving—down the stairs, out of Pride Tower—each step a blur. The pull in my chest drags me south, not toward her dorm. What is going on? Where is she?
Despite the tug in the opposite direction, I go through the motions, striding to her door and knocking hard enough to wake the entire floor. Let them complain. I’ll deal with the consequences later.
No answer.
My fist hits the wood again, harder. If I have to break it off its hinges, I will.
The door yanks open. Her roommate stands there—hair a rat’s nest, eyes glassy, reeking of cheap tequila. She blinks at me, scowling. “What the hell do you want?”
Hardly surprising. I’m not here for courtesy.
“Where is Arwen?” I ask, voice low, forcing it steady over my rising panic.
I need to keep it together, and I am in no mood to be denied.
“Arwen?” She blinks blearily, glancing behind her at the empty bed. “She’s not here. Likely stayed somewhere else. Not that it’s any of your business.”
The flicker of jealousy that thought sparks slices clean through the panic, but the bond surges hotter, drowning everything else. She isn’t safe. She’s in pain. Afraid. I can feel it.
I don’t hesitate.
My power slips past Holly’s flimsy mental defenses, pressing into her mind with the precision of a blade.
“You’re going to let me in.” I nudge her thoughts to be more agreeable.
Her expression goes vacant, obedient. She moves aside.
A sour twist coils in my stomach — guilt. I despise using this part of my power—the ugliness of forcing someone’s will to bend beneath mine. It feels… wrong. Filthy. But necessity leaves no room for morality tonight.
I step inside.
The room hits me like a blow: clothes missing, her bag gone. Then I see it—her phone, abandoned on the desk like an afterthought.
My stomach drops, cold and absolute.
She’s running. She’s alone. She’s in danger.
I curse under my breath. The council might have relied on the phone to track her, but I don’t need it. I can find her through the bond. I just have to give in and follow it. Let it drag me to wherever she is.
Dagger in hand, I sprint into the night. South. Toward Academy Hollow. Toward her.
***
Arwen
The outline of Academy Hollow crawls into view—broken rocks, a sloping hill, the weak glow of far-off streetlamps bleeding through the dark. My chest tightens, a mix of relief and dread swirling together.
I press my back against a tree, forcing myself to breathe as I search the quiet little town below. It’s still. It looks empty. For one stolen second, I let out a shaky breath. I made it.
Then the moment breaks as I prepare myself for what’s next.
I slip back into the shadows and start moving toward the lights, each step heavier than the last. Every inch forward reminds me of what I’ve left behind, what I’ll never get back. But quitting isn’t an option now.
If the world has already written me off, fine. I’ll just have to prove it wrong.
My legs screaming in protest, I finally reach the edge of the academy grounds. The tall, glimmering wards that keep the grounds secure shimmer faintly before me, their protective hum fading as I step past them.
The cold hits me like a slap. My teeth chatter instantly, my breath fogging in the icy air. The warmth of the academy—its controlled climate, its illusion of safety—is gone. Every muscle in my body stiffens as I realize how vulnerable I feel.
My fingers fumble with my bag, stiff and useless in the cold. Pulling out my extra layers, I yank a sweater over my head and then jam into my coat, shivering like my bones have forgotten what warmth feels like.
A shadow drops over me, and every nerve spikes to life. Freeze. Don’t move. My stomach knots, gut twisting hard enough to make me gag.
Slowly, I lift my head. Three figures flank me from behind, hooded, silent. Silent and still.
“Well, the information was accurate. Here she is.”
Her words barely finish before something cold and rough touches my temple. A jolt of panic snaps through me—then the world lurches sideways. My vision smears, sound warps, and a heavy, suffocating darkness rushes in, swallowing everything before I can even curse the universe.
***
Maylo
I love it when they scream. The way the sound bounces off the stone walls, rattles around, makes the blood in my head sing. Like music, but better—because it’s mine. And I made it.
I stalk back and forth. Back and forth. Just letting him bleed a little more. It’s more fun when it’s drawn out.
Sharp, sudden pain spears right through my chest.
Is he trying to play? I freeze, grin splitting wider, wider, before it snaps into a snarl. No weapons are sticking out of me.
Something’s wrong.
I’ve felt her panic before, when I wanted to taste her fear in the locker room.
Her flailing little emotions, like sparrows banging themselves against the bars of my mind.
I can box those away—tiny boxes, neat little stacks, close the lid until it’s time to feel.
Easy. But this? This I can’t box. This rips the boxes apart.
She’s in danger. She must be. Whoever is scarring my bond better prepare for a rough few days because that’s my job. Her fear is mine.
I spin on my prisoner, still chained up, half-conscious, bleeding. With one hand, I grab him by the throat and slam him against the wall. His eyes bulge, pretty little whites showing.
“You’re a transporter?” I sing sweetly. Then venom. “Yes?”
“Y-yes—” he croaks, throat crushed.
“YOU WILL TAKE ME TO ACADEMY HOLLOW. NOW. IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE.” I yell, voice rough.
The air folds around us. Transporting is like breathing for me now since we have them all over the prison, and in the next heartbeat I step out of the shadows.
Behind me, the transporter meat bucket collapses to the floor, wheezing.
His chains are gone. He must’ve opted to leave them behind. That’s fine. He can try to escape.
See? Generous. I’m practically a saint.
The tug of the bond drags me forward, straight to the building she’s in. I can sense them. Rebels. My little stormcloud didn’t make it far past the wards. She must’ve been running.
Silly little Stormcloud. You can’t outrun destiny.
I can feel another familiar presence as I scout around the building. Standing in the dark, I find Atticus Willshire, Mr. Head-Shoved-So-Far-Up-His-Own-Ass-He-Can-Taste-It.
I take a second to curse silently the fact that I have to share a bond with him…
As soon as I reveal myself to him, he flips around, holding up a peculiar knife that I’d really like to play with.
“What are you doing here, Villanox?” Every syllable bristles with controlled outrage.
“Now’s not the time for questions, little Willshire. Now’s the time for action—which, clearly, you’re unfamiliar with.”
His jaw ticks. “I don’t have time for your games, Villanox—”
Blah blah blah. Gods, his voice is boring. I tune him out, tilt my head back, imagine walking inside, ripping heads off, scooping my stormcloud into my arms—preferably naked—and striding into the sunrise. But no. Not yet. It’s not time.
“Baby Willshire,” I purr, pressing my hand over his mouth and shoving him against the wall. “Time to be quiet.”
I feel him pushing against my mind—silly little boy, trying his tricks. He doesn’t know that I know. Best to keep it that way.
“You are going to go in and save our stormcloud.”
He stares at me like I’m insane. Which is fair. That’s how most people look at me. So, he just looks at me normally.
I dig into my cloak and pull out two crystals. Heat builds in my palm as I feed a little of my power into each. I slam one into his hand. “You will use this one. She will use that one.” As I place the other in his jacket pocket. He moves to shove me away.
“You will owe me a favor for these, baby Willshire. I had to trade some awfully brutal services for these. Sure, it was fun but that’s not the point.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, you lunatic—” He cuts himself off, staring down at his arm. Or where his arm should be. “What the hell—”
He looks back up, expecting to see me. Except he’s not looking at me anymore. Because I’m not there.
He spins in frantic little circles, trying to catch me. It’s cute, and he reminds me of an adorable kitten, but I can’t hang around. As much as I hate to admit it, the little Willshire can handle himself. Especially with my crystals.
I head back into the shadows where I belong. This isn’t my time yet. That’s what my master said. I have so many questions and he feeds me only morsels. Morsels that will only benefit him, surely.
I stalk back to where I left my meat-sack to find the spot empty.
Perfect.
I unstrap my dull knife, running a thumb lovingly across its edge. My grin stretches.
Time to hunt.