Page 29 of Retrograde

“I don’t know,” I reply, my stomach churning and my mind reeling. “But I sure as shit intend to find out.”

I’m pacing around the courtyard, confusion and anger buzzing underneath my skin.

That crybaby fucker swore he’d tell me everything, and yet he kept this from me?

This! The single most world-changing, history-shattering piece of intel the world has seen since Rift Day!

People die every day trying to seek asylum in Synechord, whether by sea or across the Rift. Dozens get arrested every month for trying to establish contact! And he just sat on the knowledge that it may all be for nothing! That there might be something much darker going on than we all thought.

And so did that traitor bitch! Once again failing to understand that this is much bigger than her and her little problems!

They both lied to my fucking face.

How the fuck can they claim to be on our side while risking that this information dies with them?

Growling with rage, I punch the air.

How dare they?

Someone needs to bleed for this. Frozen to the spot, I keep turning my head from one cave’s entrance to another. I can’t fucking decide.

I roar, pissed off at myself now, too. I tear myself away and head for the crybaby’s cave, stomping.

But I lose all my steam before I reach the door. All that’s left behind is a strange, flat emptiness. I can’t muster enough enthusiasm to wrench the door open, storm in, and unleash my wrath on him. I’m just not fucking feeling it.

Fuck it all.

I might as well just go fuck the girl I’ve been neglecting.

But then, as my thoughts stray to my place and the masks I keep in my drawer, I get a better idea.

The door to my pad flies open as I burst in. My steps are loud on the rough stone floor, but not as loud as the female moans and the slaps of flesh against flesh.

Attila has the girl bent over my table, pounding into her from behind. His face is glazed, and his shirt sticks to his sweaty chest. His hand is tangled in her brown hair—I can see she cut it shorter like I wanted.

“What the fuck is this? Out! Both of you! Now! OUT!”

The girl tries to wiggle from underneath him, but Attila holds her in place.

“Two minutes, man,” he pants. “Then you can have her.”

I lunge without warning, tearing him away from her and tossing him to the ground.

“Get the fuck out!” I bark at the wide-eyed girl.

I don’t need to tell her twice. She gathers her scattered clothes and rushes out the door fast, but not before giving me a pleading, regretful look. Like she wants to ask whether I’ll seek her services again.

I won’t.

“What the fuck, Aron?” Attila picks himself off the ground just as the door slams behind her.

I let him zip himself up because fuck knows I don’t want his bare dick anywhere in the vicinity. But then I grab him by the collar and throw him against the natural stone wall.

“You’re forgetting your fucking place.” I’m right in his face, teeth bared. “Don’t make that mistake again.”

Anyone else would have to be scraped off my floor. Attila only gets away with it because we met in the army. We’ve been through too much together. He was a friend to me first, before I became the Necromancer and he became my second-in-command. Old habits die hard. Too hard, sometimes—they may have to be helped to their grave. Just another damn thing to worry about.

“Fine, whatever.”