13. Elara

Chapter 13

Elara

R un , my instincts tell me., Maverick's spirit whispers to me. Run, and don't look back at them while you do.

Kaspian breaks the stillness. His tone is a low, feral thing, more animal than human, a snarl lurking just beneath the surface. "Now, where would your brother hide a piece of a multi-million dollar ruby?"

"I'm not letting you take over or order me around like I'm one of your initiates," I say. "Maverick entrusted this to me."

Wilder's fingers flex on my shoulders, a subtle warning. "We heard him, too, sweetwitch, but there's a lot your brother couldn't have predicted. You can't do this alone. You need us."

His tone carries an edge of menace, masculine expectation, beneath the concern.

I shrug out of his hold.

"I don't need anyone." The words taste wrong on my tongue, but I force them out. "Especially not those my brother warned me against."

Axe drifts closer. "Maverick was one of us, Elara. He knew the Cimmerian Court inside and out. If he left clues, we have the best chance of deciphering them."

I snort, a harsh sound in the oppressive stillness of this ancient, awful room. "Right. Because you've been so forthcoming with information up until now." Sarcasm drips from my words, sharp and biting. "Where's my necklace, by the way? Do you want to tell me where you've stored it?"

Kaspian's eyes become guarded slits, a wall slamming down behind them. "Watch your tone, beastie. Don't make the mistake of making us your enemies. Again."

I notch my chin. "Does that mean you're still greedy for me, Kaspian? Because it doesn't seem like it, and I certainly don't need your threats."

Of its own will, my hand snatches the dagger at Wilder's hip, the blade rasping as it clears the sheath. I clench the hilt, the weapon an unfamiliar weight in my grip.

Wilder follows my movement, a humorless smile twisting his lips while his arms stay relaxed at his sides. "You really think you can take us on? You're in over your head. Maverick's video has you panicking."

I thrust the dagger forward, the point wavering inches from Wilder's throat because he didn't back away. His honed instincts would've seen me coming before I rose to the balls of my feet.

Wilder stares at me over the shine of steel, his eyes flashing with a dare.

He moves forward enough that the knife's tip dents the skin above his Adam's apple.

"There was someone else at my house yesterday," I say. "An intruder dressed in black. Searching for something, and he wasn't invited. Sasha and I were forced to hide from him. Was it one of you?"

Kaspian answers with a low, "If it were one of us, we wouldn't have been caught, least of all by you."

Wilder cocks a brow, heedless of the deadly tip at his throat. "Do you really believe we'd hide our faces from you at this point? It wasn't us. All that proves is there's someone else just as interested in your family history as we are."

He adds with a mocking tone, "Can you think of any group who would want to stop us, sweetwitch?"

"It wasn't the Vultures," I insist through the sinking stone in my stomach. "They came after and must've spooked the intruder. Kaspian can attest to that."

"I'm not agreeing to anything," Kaspian says mildly. "There are five active Vultures that we know of, and we only saw two."

"They're not interested in finding the Heart," I reason as best I can while holding a weapon to Wilder's throat. "They don't believe it's real. So why would they break into my house to search for it? Just—back off. All of you."

Kaspian scoffs, a harsh bark. "Or what?"

Axe shifts his stance, subtly angling himself to leap between me and Wilder if he has to.

"I'll be the judge of that," I retort, glaring at Kaspian. "And you can wipe that smug look off your face. I may not have grown up in this deranged multiverse of yours, but I'm a quick study."

Kaspian's beryl green irises flicker with something akin to tolerance and … is that amusement? "Oh, beastie, no one ever accused you of being slow-witted."

"No, just naive."

Cav's voice sounds out behind me, and I whirl toward it, knife first.

He strides out of the corridor's black hole and into the altar room, his blue eyes shimmering turquoise in the eerie light.

"Stupidly brave, maybe," he continues, his attention on me.

Despite Maverick's warnings ringing in my head, I scan Cav head-to-toe, searching for any spots of blood leaking through his white shirt, any indication of a wince on his face.

Only an arrogant swagger and a cocky smirk on his pale face answer my silent worry.

"I may have been sliced into, but I recover just fine, butterfly," Cav says. Then he adds in a low voice, "Thanks to you."

Relief threatens to take hold of my muscles and soften them in his presence. To wrap my arms around his neck and whisper gratitude into the air that he is okay, despite the scar that will linger, the ghastly combination of circles and triangles and dark, hellish worship imbued in the scalpel that harmed him.

My knuckles blanch around the knife's hilt. The blade wavers, catching the pockets of light leaking into the room.

Kaspian's lip curls, his expression showing no surprise at Cav's unexpected appearance. "Put the knife down, Elara. We both know you won't use it."

I don't lower it. It's the only thing I have standing between me and them, a temporary blockade while I collect my thoughts and pick through Maverick's last words. These four men weren't at Titan Falls when Maverick was here. My brother died six years ago, and the current Court has walked through—and under—campus for four years. Yet there are over twenty initiates currently angling for these men's spots.

It occurs to me to ask, "How many initiates were with you before you became members?"

I don't ask it to anyone in particular.

Axe answers, "Around twenty. Why?"

"Would that have been the same for Maverick? He was with nineteen others?"

Kaspian gives a slow nod, his eyes growing small as he assesses me.

"And what happens to the rest of them?" I keep my knife between us. "The ones who don't make it."

Cav considers this. At last, I get my proof that he's not superhuman when he crosses his arms, then grimaces at the contact to his chest. He lowers them carefully. "They're disposed of accordingly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.

Cav advances, and I scurry back.

He continues, undeterred, "You asked us not to lie to you anymore, and I will keep that promise. You also have to understand that we are monsters of a different make. Highly intelligent, with honed bodies and killer instincts. Even when chosen as children by the Sovereigns, we displayed those talents." He dips his chin until I have no choice but to focus on the preternatural brightness of his eyes. "Do you understand what I'm saying, butterfly?"

I give a small nod, my throat aching with unspent emotion. "Maverick has—had—the same traits."

"Yes."

"So … do you kill each other off? Is that what goes on in your underground Hunger Games ?"

Kaspian releases an amused chuckle. "No. Though some do die. Others are paid handsomely to keep their lips sealed about our existence, and if they ever loosen their lips, they meet unfortunate, tragic accidents. Some of our first tasks are to do just that and orchestrate untimely?—"

"Don't finish that sentence," I demand hoarsely. I stare at him out of the corner of my eye, the buttery softness of his tone crawling through my ear like a centipede.

"Ah." Wilder folds his arms across his expansive chest. "She's getting it, boys. It's finally sinking in that we actively murder."

I say through my increasing rapid breaths, my chest rising and falling, "Maverick."

"He did the same despicable things, beastie," Kaspian answers, frowning with false concern. "You might as well be pointing that knife at your own family."

I shake my head. The soles of my feet scrape across the floor as I instinctively retreat.

"Your brother said to only trust him," Axe says, his face covered in more shadows than light. But his is the only voice I can sense honest concern in. "But he was one of us. So can you really?"

Axe moves in. I whip the blade in his direction, but he continues, heedless. "There is no good side versus bad. There is just us and our need to control our own futures again. Maverick wanted the same. We all have similar goals, and we need to work together to win. I believe Maverick would want that."

A jaded laugh escapes my lips. "You expect me to?—"

Wilder's hand darts out, seizing my wrist in an iron grip. He twists, the dagger clattering to the stone floor. "Hate to break it to you, but you're not up for a solo mission if you can't keep hold of your only weapon."

I wrench my arm free, stumbling back, my gaze darting among the four men. They idly watch me, their relaxed stances hiding the bunching of their muscles and their ability to strike.

I know I can't outrun them, can't outfight them. My problem is, I don't know what to do .

The weight of Maverick's warnings press down on me, suffocating in their urgency. Yet the revelation of his own involvement in the Cimmerian Court's vile deeds sows doubt in my mind.

Kaspian's grin is a crown, a regal emblem of his unassailable belief in his own abilities, perched atop the throne of his vindictive confidence.

Wilder's grip on my wrist lingers, a reminder of his strength and the futility of my resistance. Axe's calm demeanor belies the tension crackling beneath the surface, and his words, while kind, are a calculated attempt to sway me. Cav's presence looms, alert and assessing despite the wounds marring his chest.

My throat constricts as I grapple with the impossible choice: To trust in Maverick's final plea and run, leaving behind the only connection to my brother and the truth he fought to uncover. Or to stay, to navigate the violent terrors of the Court and unravel the secrets they guard so fiercely.

In the end, it's the legacy of Anderton blood that settles around my bones. I meet the men's gazes, one by one.

"Maverick may have been one of you, but he was also my brother. Fiercely protective, loyal, and smart. Too smart to have joined your ranks blindly. And I can't rest until I find out what happened to him and why he left me that message. I'll keep working with you for now but on my terms. I'm not an initiate for you to order around."

Kaspian's lips pull in a humorless smile. "You'll learn, in this world, there are no rules."

"Then I'll make my own."

I stand there, surrounded by the type of monsters Maverick once called brothers, and I'm fully aware that my path ahead will be full of temptation and deception.

Because as much as I try to fight it, these monsters are my lovers.

Cav reaches out, his fingers ghosting along my jaw. "We'll see how long that bravado lasts, butterfly. When the darkness comes, we'll be the ones keeping you safe while you're hiding under the covers."

I jerk away from his touch, my skin tingling from the contact. "I don't need your protection. I need answers."

Axe clears his throat, drawing our attention. "Then let's start searching. Maverick was here. Meaning, we must've missed something in the Grand Library."

I nod, thankful for an excuse to move. "Lead the way."

As we retrace our steps through the corridor and into the neglected library, I feel the weight of their presence around me.

Predators, each one of them, their power caressing me like a living thing.

But I am not prey. I am descended from Sarah Anderton and forged in the same fire as Maverick. I make my own rules.

Trust no one. Find the Heart. Expose the truth.

Don't fall in love.