14. Kaspian

Chapter 14

Kaspian

THE BOGEYMAN

" A xe, did you take notes on Maverick's video?"

I turn from a pile of dust-crusted books where I'm balancing my laptop and toward Elara's voice. Frowning, I watch Axe hand over his phone so she can go over his notes on the video we all were forced to endure.

It's amazing how Elara's gone from knife-wielding fury to phone-borrowing damsel.

Though I can't blame the girl for being a little shell-shocked and emotionally confused. First, we sexually manipulate her into giving up her family heirloom, then she's informed her brother was an initiate of our noxious, gruesome Court, then I'm shot by her mother, and finally, today, Elara watches another cryptic message from her dead brother confirming that he has indeed broken a jewel that our Sovereigns will commit unspeakable horrors to obtain if she doesn't do something about it first.

Sure, dead brother, beg your blissfully ignorant little sister to solve a homicidal mystery. But don't stop there. Make sure she understands your excessive stupidity in leaving breadcrumbs for answers instead of just leaving the fucking jewel with her. Make us all participate in a scavenger hunt. Make her beholden to us so we have no choice but to shelter her from the violence waiting for her on the other side.

Fucking asshole, is what Maverick is.

He's lucky he's already dead.

Pretty, innocent creatures have no business near me, yet Elara is everywhere I turn. The room is thick with dust from the old texts they've been combing through while I de-encrypt Maverick's files, creating a fog between her and me. The flickering haze doesn't do her justice, but her beauty is undeniable even in this pitiful setting.

Hazel eyes flecked with gold snag mine as soon as she senses my stare, her mouth thinning as she takes in every surly bit of me.

That tiny gesture, her small intake of breath, is enough to send my sinful thoughts spiraling. I've seen her afraid, seen her angry … and it's the fact that I'm remembering each of her expressions and cataloging them in my mind so I can return to them to think about later, that makes me look away first.

I return to the stack of books, the ancient tomes coated in a thick layer of grime that transfers to my fingertips as I flip through the pages. The musty scent of decaying paper fills my nostrils, and I'm reminded why I prefer advanced tech and computer code to fragile manuscripts.

I slam the book shut, dust billowing from its pages. "We're wasting time. Maverick's Pokemon GO game is going to get us all killed."

Elara's head snaps up. "This wouldn't be amusing to him. He was trying to protect the Heart."

"By leaving it for you to find? Brilliant plan." I mock.

"I knew him best. It would only make sense for him to give enough detail that I could find the answers without alerting his enemies, the Court , and that includes you."

Elara spits our title out like it's the crudest of all insults. To her, I guess it is.

"Tread lightly. Your brother chose to be part of this Court," I counter, my words lighter than the venom snaking its way through my veins.

"Chose?" She throws the word at me like a challenge. "Or was forced?"

The polluted air becomes so thick, I could slice it with the blade Elara had pressed against Wilder's throat earlier.

Her lips remain pursed, resentment burning in her eyes like an untamed fire.

I lean back in the tattered leather chair, crossing one ankle over my knee, my gaze never leaving hers. "He had a choice. We all did."

A strangled laugh escapes from her, vulnerable and acidic. "Is that what you tell yourself to justify the horrors you commit?"

"Oh, beastie."

My nickname for her lands like an untracked nuke. Even Axe stops his constant, silent brooding to start cataloging our argument.

I rise from my chair, closing the distance between us until I can see every golden fleck in her eyes.

And then I do something unexpected, something that earns me a gasp from Elara and the complete and utter stillness from my brothers. I take her hand in mine and press her palm against my chest, my sling's bandage rough against our combined hands.

I lean forward until our faces are inches apart, until I can smell the sweet scent of citrus mingled with fear wafting off her skin. ""Do you feel that? It's a heartbeat. Even the most vicious have them, too."

"Not all hearts beat in the same way," she responds, pulling her hand from mine. It's a surprisingly graceful action—calm and steadfast that somehow makes it feel like she's touched me more deeply than I'd intended. "Some are ... colder."

"Is that what you think?" I ask, the nonchalance in my voice contrasting with the tension in my body. The memory of her touch still lingers on my chest, making every nerve there hyperaware of its absence. "That I'm a coldhearted bastard?"

"Yes," Elara states firmly.

I show my teeth. "Good."

Axe snorts from his corner. Elara shoots him a quizzical look, but he merely shrugs and returns to his task.

Elara's eyes narrow at that, preparing to rebut. But before she can utter a word, I turn on my heel and stalk off to where Wilder is enjoying a 100-year-old bottle of whiskey he found inside a broken grand piano.

As I accept the offered drink from him, my shoulder suddenly twinges with the reminder that I'm in a sling because of her—the fucking Wraithwoods.

Against my better judgment, I steal one last glance at Elara. She's hunched over Axe's phone again. The screen's light clings to her face.

Like a beacon that only draws you in to crash against the rocks.

I fight against the pull, turning away to focus on the expensive whiskey Wilder expects me to drink directly from the bottle. There's no use digging around for a glass. The burn down my throat is just harsh enough to ground me.

Wilder grins, a sardonic smirk on his face as he reaches for the whiskey.

"She's got spirit," he comments idly, tipping back the bottle and swallowing the fiery liquid.

I grunt, eyeing him in my periphery. "Is that what you call it? I call it a death wish."

Wilder shrugs, a wry glimmer in his hazel eyes as he stares at Elara across the room.

"Semantics," he says, setting the bottle down on an old, dusty tabletop with a soft thud.

Elara continues to devour whatever details Axe has typed in his notes. She could've asked me to watch the video again, but I know why she hasn't.

That would mean facing me. Asking me to give without taking.

I suppose I could also preempt and offer to replay it—but I don't.

It should come as no surprise that I'd love to see her beg.

For a moment, I allow myself the pleasure of watching her: the intelligence in her eyes; the way she bites her lip when deep in thought; how passionately she fights for what she believes in...

No, not pleasure—a quickly growing obsession. One of my favorite vices.

"Hey." Wilder interrupts my thoughts, nudging my injured side with his elbow. I cover my wince with a growl.

Wilder doesn't react. "You might want to keep those dirty thoughts off your face before she catches you."

I grind my teeth and root my gaze on the bottle beside us, containing whatever unwanted emotions are boiling beneath my skin.

"Stay out of my head," I warn under my breath.

"I don't have to be psychic to see it," he replies with a laugh, leaning back in his chair with stretched ease.

Before I can respond, Elara stands abruptly from her chair.

The sudden movement startles a murmur of surprise out of Axe, drawing all eyes in the room to her. Cav comes out from the stacks, concern etched into his sweat-dotted forehead.

I note the small droplets on his face. He's in pain.

"I found something," Elara announces.

"Don't leave us in suspense," I drawl.

Elara ignores the jibe—to the point that I'm annoyed she reduced me to it.

I fight the urge to one-up her with my progress on Maverick's files. But I bite back the impulse, knowing that any breakthrough she had will ultimately be mine as well. She may as well have her moment.

She spins Axe's screen to face us.

In half a second, Axe is by her side, swiping the phone from her and gripping the edges as he studies what she wants to show us. A flash of panic crosses his face before he quickly composes himself.

I frown, but I'm stopped from asking what has crawled up Axe's ass when Elara says, "Maverick said he made three flash drives. See?" She looks over Axe's shoulder to see the screen again. Reluctantly, Axe lowers his arm to accommodate her.

She continues. "‘ There are no more USB drives. Just the three.' Three videos. We've only found two."

Wilder's pleased expression falls at Elara's words, his bottle of whiskey pausing halfway to his lips. Cav's cool gaze sharpens in thought, his brows furrowing with an intensity overriding any lingering agony he feels.

Tickling at the edges of my mind are fingers of bruising desperation. The fear of failing our legacies, of being banished from the Court, or worse—being killed in the bloody ritual down in the catacombs by homicidal Sovereigns.

"Three videos," Wilder finally utters, setting the bottle onto the piano. His gaze moves to me expectantly. I glance over at Elara and release a slow sigh, tipping my head back and closing my eyes for a few seconds.

Fuck.

"How did we miss this?" Cav asks from across the room, voice strained.

"Distracted by lesser details," I say, raising an eyebrow at him.

I don't need to look at Elara to know I hit my mark. We're all too distracted by her.

"We need to find that third flash drive," Elara says, ignoring me. Again.

"But not just anywhere," Cav points out, crossing his arms over his chest, then letting out another groan as soon as he accidentally presses against his cuts. "Maverick would've hidden it somewhere significant. Somewhere meaningful."

"Cav, you should sit down," Elara says, reaching for him.

He shakes his head, his bloodless pallor not helping his argument.

Elara frowns but turns to Axe. "I've combed through your notes, but I can't find any subtext to what he's saying—if Maverick's given me a clue through his words."

I swallow a sardonic chuckle. Beastie still refuses to ask me for another look at the video.

"I found the first drive here," I say, deciding to end her suffering somewhat. "Maverick referred to this space as the Grand Library."

"And we found the second in the altar room through that bookcase there." Axe utters the sentence as if he's reminding himself of our previous footsteps.

"Where Sarah Anderton was tortured and murdered," Elara murmurs.

"By the very dark arts she was accused of practicing," Cav adds. His breathing seems to slow, his lungs now encased by those very symbols.

Axe, as well, carries scars of our Sovereigns' hobby, a practice we'd presumed started with their reign, but we're now realizing runs much deeper than our modern overlords.

"We can agree Mavvy-boy enjoys forgotten areas," Wilder says. "Places the Sovereigns haven't used or don't know about. Do you know of any more old, neglected, forsaken hiding spots, sweetwitch?"

Elara's expression goes taut.

"Could the third be around here, too?" Axe asks.

Wilder runs a hand through his unruly hair. "Am I actually going to tear this place apart in search of a mysterious third flash drive? Because the Grand Library is fucking … grand. But I'll do it."

Elara winces as she takes in the size of this underground fortress, filled with answers, yet so overbearing, it would take us years to search it.

My laptop churns where I left it on a stack of books, sorting through Maverick's files and doing everything it can to unlock them.

Maverick Wraithwood, while an asshole, was a clever one. It won't be easy getting into the files he promised would explain everything.

Of course not , I think dryly. Why make it easy?

"We don't have any other leads," Axe mutters, worry creasing his brow as he leans heavily against a bookshelf.

I hum my agreement. "Especially if there are other secret rooms behind bookshelves. We need to be swifter than this. It's only a matter of time before the Sovereigns call on us to either do another job for them or give them answers?—"

"Oh my god." Elara hops from foot to foot, excitement curling her fingers as her eyes light up.

My brows jump at such a display of joy in this world of gray. My gaze rakes over Elara, taking in her flushed face and bright, eager eyes.

Fuck, I want to touch her. Break her. Own her, all in one breath.

"Yes, beastie?" I prompt.

"I know a spot!" she breathes out. "At my Gram's house. Behind a grandfather clock."

I suppress the urge to rub at my face but don't bother to hide an exasperated, "Somebody spare me from entering fucking Narnia next…"

"There's an office belonging to a man named William Jonquil," Elara continues. "He looks exactly like Maverick. I thought I was the first to find it, but maybe my brother did, too."

"You think your brother stashed the drive in this Jonquil's office?" Wilder asks, skepticism woven into his tone.

Elara nods with conviction. "The Grand Library was hidden behind a painting, and the altar room was hidden behind a bookshelf. This would make sense. And." Elara points at Axe's phone, where it's rested face-down since he took it back. "Another thing Maverick said. For me to only trust family, no matter how many years separate them from me … that's Jonquil."

Wilder snorts. "Your brother found a secret office behind a grandfather clock in your grandmother's house?" He shakes his head slowly. "That's ... bizarrely poetic."

The barest hint of a smile tugs at Cav's lips. "Guess we're off to Grandma's house, then."

You need to rest .

The statement almost escapes my mouth before I seal my lips shut. I'd never embarrass Cav like that or indicate myself in our less-than-perfect states. With my arm in a sling and his chest carved up, we both should be lying low. The impossibility of finding a bed right now and staying there is obvious—but there's also the risk that the Sovereigns can take us and use us at any time, regardless of our health.

"We'll need to tread carefully," I say instead, my mind racing, formulating plans and contingencies. "The Sovereigns have eyes everywhere. We don't want to alert them to our little field trip."

"Underestimating them is precisely why we're in this mess," Axe mutters. The same cogs turning in my head turn in his.

"Then we'll just have to be smarter," Elara says.

Her voice is a bit sharper than it usually is. Her eyes are on mine, burning with a smoky intensity.

It feels like she's challenging me, daring me to disagree. But there's something else. With her looking at me like that, the thought of destroying her seems obscene.

But I'm so good at breaking things.

Axe is silent as he pores over books we've spread out across the table. His ashen hair falls over his steel-gray eyes that have seen too much hurt in their time. It's a sight that would make any woman swoon if they didn't know the ink-black soul residing within him.

"Then we move," I say, rising to my feet in one fluid motion despite the sling hampering my left arm. "Now. Before the Sovereigns summon us for their entertainment again."

Wilder drains the last of the whiskey and slams the empty bottle onto the time-eroded piano, flashing a ferocious grin. "Do you think Granny will make us some cookies?"

I shoot him a sharp look, but he just grins, unrepentant. Typical.

Axe shoves his phone into his pocket and rises.

Cav pushes off the bookshelf, a low groan escaping through gritted teeth as his hand flies to his chest. Fresh blood seeps through the bandages swathing his torso. Elara goes to his side, concern creasing her brow.

"Cav, you're in no condition?—"

"I'm fine," he snaps, shrugging off her supporting hand. He sways on his feet but stays upright through sheer force of will. "I don't need you to be my nurse."

"And I don't have the time to drag you into hiding if that intruder follows us and drops of your blood lead him directly to us," Elara retorts. "I doubt you'll be able to take him on."

I stare at her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt or fear. But there's none to be found. Only a diehard resolve that makes my heart beat faster in my chest.

My lips pull down in agreement. "She's right, Cav. Wilder, you take the bike and scout ahead—fuck."

I tear my gaze away from Elara and land on the empty whiskey bottle. "You can't drive."

"And you've got a bum arm," Wilder counters. "I'd take my tipsy ass over your left-handed punch any day."

"No," Elara says, pointing at Wilder. "No way. I know how you are on that bike sober, never mind with alcohol in your system. You're not driving anywhere."

It bothers me to no end that I can't shove them all out of the way, grab Elara, and take the lead. I've never despised an injury as much as I do at this moment.

I cross the room in three long strides and snag my laptop, snapping it shut and tucking it under my good arm. As I turn, my gaze collides with Elara's. She radiates such fierce hatred toward me that a thrill zings into my cock.

Christ, I want to taste that fire. To possess it. To break her and remake her until she's mine, body and soul.

"That leaves Axe," I manage to say. "He'll go with you."

Axe shifts on his feet and squares his shoulders. "I can't."

"Why not?" Cav snaps.

He pulls his phone from his pocket. "The Sovereigns have asked for me."

A sharp exhale hisses between my teeth. "For what?"

Axe shakes his head with uncertainty. "More questioning. Initiate oversight. A task where I have to take an initiate with me. It could be any of those."

A resounding " Fuck " echoes through the four of us.

With Axe off the table for now, Cav bleeding out on us, and Wilder too much of a liability, that leaves only one other option.

"Are you volunteering, then?" Elara asks me.

A sudden nauseating wave of desire slams into me like a freight train. Lust and longing tug at my gut. Wanting Elara is a given, but needing her is new and unfamiliar territory that I refuse to navigate.

Dammit, she knows exactly how to challenge me. And I fucking love it.