Page 210 of Infernal Secrets

In the fog beyond, the souls I’d glimpsed two days earlier roamed without direction. Their bluish-white ethereal forms remained silent, unlike before. The ward that blocked the heavy fog also seemed to muffle their sounds from entering the clearing.

Only when they drifted too close to the ring did I hear their hollow moans as they recoiled, as if an invisible barrier burned them.

When the bulky man at my left pivoted, I caught my first glimpse of life beyond these guards and Ranthus in days.

Figures I didn’t recognize sat on a dozen or so chairs on a raised platform. They looked human in modern clothes and familiar features—but I knew better.

Cameras flanked the platform—production rigs like the ones used on Earth. The “audience” and crew manning the cameras made the whole setup look like a television studio.

Dread washed over me when I realized why.

They were televising my execution.

“Bring her,” a stern voice called beyond several dead trees that blocked my view.

The guards led me toward the voice, and when I saw who waited beyond the trees, my knees buckled, and I choked on the sob I fought to hold back.

The guys stood in a line straight ahead.

They were all dressed alike in black slacks and button-down dress shirts. The only difference: gemstone brooches at the throat instead of ties. Ash in brilliant emerald, Zeke in striking aquamarine, Ezra in vivid sapphire, and Cyn in deep ruby.

My heart pounded as I took in each of their faces.

Zeke looked devastated. The sensitive man I’d grown to care for couldn’t hide the pain on his face. Dark circles ringed glossy, red-rimmed eyes, and his features sharpened with weight loss, making my heart ache.

Ash watched me with a stoic expression, but the mask didn’t hide the pain in his eyes. Even freshly groomed, he wasn’t doing well; the same dark circles shadowed his eyes and sweat beaded his brow.

I broke eye contact before I did something stupid like try to run to him.

I didn’t know if their pain was from my supposed betrayal, or if Grandma was right and not all of them had given up on me.

I wanted to believe the latter, but even if I did, what did it matter?

I was a dead woman walking.

My attention settled on Cyn, and I found him already watching me with those intense amber eyes.

To my surprise, he looked tired and worn down. The hatred I’d seen the day he stole my necklace was gone, but the skin around his shadowed eyes remained tight as he watched me.

The longer we watched each other, the more I registered his discomfort.

His jaw ticked in agitation, but he refused to look away.

If he hadn’t taken the necklace…

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to look at him for fear of crying.

I realized I cared more about the asshole than I wanted to admit. Not that I’d ever have accepted anything beyond the fleeting physical attraction we shared.

With him, I felt like I could finally fight back. He didn’t suppress me. He welcomed my defiance, letting me release the pent-up frustration at a world that kept me cowed.

But I knew he didn’t do it for me. He was an asshole, and our push-and-pull was just a game to him.

Sexual compatibility didn’t make a relationship.

It was Zeke’s explanation of Cyn that made me care in spite of myself, and Cyn’s small actions let me peek through his cracks on my own.

He saved me.