The air in Polis rippled with stillness. Soon, it would be filled with the sound of her laughter. Soon was subjective, but to a timeless Celestial, the moment of their reunion drew closer than it ever had before.
For Rin and the others,time passed just like that.
Rin was never left alone.Ever.
They were with her always. When she got up, when she went to bed, and every moment in between.
She wasn’t used to being so… coddled, but she couldn’t say she hated it. It was suffocating at times, and the tension often got the best of them all, forcing them to lash out, cutting through the fear of their circumstances.
The gala. They just had to make it to the gala.
But what would come after?
The mere idea sent Rin into a spiral. She took her anger and worry out in her training—not on the mat, sparring with the others on Alpha Team, but in the large indoor pool. In the goddamned penthouse right outside the Academy gates that Rhyden Valkar somehow owned. That was the thing he’d had to take care of when they’d arrived back in Solar City. How the vampire owned such prime real estate, Rin would never know. When she asked him about it, he merely smirked and reached for a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his finger as he tugged harshly.
Nothing was off the table for the leader of Noctis. Maybe even herself. No, dammit. She couldn’t think that way. She was strong, and he hated her. Rin would never give in. But she wasn’t sure what had changed between them. He no longer seemed hungry for revenge—butstarvingfor her.
They took turns every night staying at her dorm. Auren would portal the others in, and every evening, with her door locked—and her dresser shoved beneath the handle because shewasn’t taking any chances of being discovered with Xara here—she’d await which it would be.
Lucien rarely stayed the night with her with his shifts at the hospital, but when he did, she soaked up every moment, not wanting to fall asleep as she lay tucked against his chest. He’d stroke his firm hands over the back of her hair and press kisses to her brow, her cheeks, and finally her lips, not to build her up, but to relax her, soothe her into sleep. They were always both too tired to do anything else, and a part of her still felt vulnerable and almost shy after what he’d done to her—been forced to do to save her. Rin would never hold it against him, but she was undeniably changed. She felt like her heart would always beat to the tune of his.
Some nights, Rin would awake in his arms, crying, feeling water in her lungs, blurry faces staring down at her as she thrashed. Lucien would cry, too, wiping her tears away as he rocked her in his arms. Her death was her most vivid memory of her life on Tarz.
On the nights Cyrus came to stay with her, they both didn’t get much sleep at all. Staying up late talking, watching movies, eating salty snacks that Lucien would be sure to get on her about… And when the sun truly set, and they heard the halls go quiet as Xara—and sometimes Keir when he stayed over—went to bed, Cyrus would roll on top of her and kiss her all over. Her body grew comfortable with him, from the many times he’d had her now in this life, and from her faint, shimmering memories of the past. She knew she’d been with him—in many different ways—on Sibeth.
Rin recalled faintly, mostly in that strange space just before awakening, when the mind was looser and dreams weren’t quite so far away, that Cyrus had loved to kiss herthere. Between her thighs. Now, when he tried to nip along the line of her stomach and inch her thighs open to force his shoulders betweenthem, she snapped her legs closed. Abashed. The incubus would merely brush his lips over her navel and whisper,I’ll make you break one day, doll. Trust me, you’ll love the feel of my mouth on you.
Some evenings, Auren would step through the portal alone, and her cheeks would warm, knowing he’d be the one to stay with her. He was always such a gentleman. The first few nights, he slept on the floor, but after she grew mad, hating the idea of him sleeping on the floor while she lay on the bed. He moved to lie by her side—but never beneath the sheets, always on top, wanting to keep a barrier between them. Rin never asked why. Was it her? Did he not… like her? But no, she knew he did, saw it in his piercing eyes, when he’d study her when he thought she wasn’t aware. Auren liked her. And Rin liked him. Butterflies flapped their wings in her stomach whenever he was near, and the thing between them was fragile and blooming, just like the weather as they drew closer to spring.
Rhyden did not stay with her often. But when he did? It felt like being trapped in a burning building. No escape, smoke in her lungs, and the fire that burned was the tense vampire as he leaned against the headboard, his red eyes never straying from her. Juxtaposed to Auren, Rhyden was far from a gentleman. He never relegated himself to the floor out of a sense of priority—no, the vampiric crime lord settled into her bed like he owned it. He stared at her meager things scattered about the room with an appraising eye, as if he knew them already, but was only seeing them up close for the first time.
When Rhyden stepped through the portal, Rin’s shoulders always sagged with resignation: another night of little sleep. Because she tossed and turned on the bed, trying to force her body to be as small as possible, not wanting to touch him at all. She’d give him her back, tug the sheets up to her nose, and tuck her face into the blanketed darkness. But she’d always awakenfacing him, the sheets tangled around her legs, an arm thrown out toward him—and the worst of all was when her leg found a spot thrown over his. Rin never spoke about that, but she saw the smugness in his gaze.
Auren also accompanied her on assignments, which was a good thing, because they grew more dangerous. It was evident now that Sabine and Talor were trying to get rid of her. She’d still not seen her adoptive parents, but she felt their presence in her every move, in the whispers throughout the Academy as she walked the halls.
The calls to the Hunter’s Hotline were growing worse. All those on Alpha Team were recruited to help. The Academy was a hub of activity. It was tireless, and Rin found herself wishing for it all to stop.
Her heart had been too calm—even with her increase in Rogue hunting. And the strange phenomenon of the Rogues dying still occurred. It always happened when Rin felt like she couldn’t fight another second, when her arms trembled from holding up her Echosword, or her aim with her Echogun was off from exhaustion. She’d push forward, hunting the last of her assigned prey, Auren helping, only to find the Rogues dead.
Currently, Rin stood, her Hunter’s uniform soaked in Rogue blood. A small cut on her cheek marked where stray glass had nicked her skin when she’d fired at the circular maintenance-door window.
Her latest assignment had brought her and Auren deep underground, to a closed-off section of the sewer systems running beneath Solar City. The air held a dank smell, and strands of her white hair had escaped from her ponytail, wavy with the humidity. Water dripped from the exposed pipes running on the low ceilings.
The midlevel Rogue trilled as it lay in a puddle of its own blood in a pool of dirty water.
Its black, Soulless eyes blinked up at Rin as she aimed with one hand. Exhaling, she pulled the trigger. The bullet found home right in the Rogue’s eyes, sending blood and goop spraying out.
Rin lowered her gun and wiped her forearm over her face. Her legs were weak, muscles trembling.
"That was the final one, Hunter?" Auren asked from her side, wiping the bloodied end of his scythe on the bottom of his cloak.
Rin shivered as shadows coiled in the darkness of the tunnels. Her breath fogged out before her; though, it wasn’t cold any longer in Solar City. Just here, underground.
In her peripheral vision, she saw a dark blot undulate, but when she whipped her head toward it, it sank into nothing. "Yes," Rin said quietly, her voice echoing around them, "it was the last one. Our little helper didn’t choose to step in this time."
Or maybe it had—and she just hadn’t seen it.
Whatever it was that was killing the Rogues for her… she wasn’t sure. But it reminded her of something. The shape of a hand, a form wavering in midair. Her shadow.
