“But maybe…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?”
“Maybe we could find a way to convince Edith to stop.”
And that was all it took for August to snap. He reached out, gripping Quinn by the wrist, and dragged her to the side of the tent, away from any prying eyes. Before she could even open her mouth to protest, August was pinning her against the tentpole, holding her in place with his forearm.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. The shadows running through his veins hummed in satisfaction, relishing his anger, but he ignored their call, willing them to stay put.
“What”—Quinn tried to yank herself free, but August held firm—“are you talking about?”
August leaned in closer.
“Your emotions are showing, Private Woodrow.” August did his best to seem menacing, his voice a seething whisper. He needed her to be afraid—fear was the only thing that could save her now. “Are you trying to get yourself branded for treason? Marked asdefected?”
“I’m not…” Quinn scoffed, though August didn’t miss the slight flicker of panic passing over her eyes. “That isn’t what this is about.”
“You’re doubting the Soulless One.” His words were an accusation. “I can see it written all over your face.”
Quinn balked.
“That’s not—”
“A word of advice,” August whispered through gritted teeth, yanking Quinn forward by her wrist. Her face contorted into a scowl, but to her credit—she didn’t flinch. She didn’t cower underhis gaze. “Demiens aren’t supposed to care. You’re supposed to carve out your humanity and succumb to the shadows. No emotions. No remorse. No feeling.” He tilted his head, tutting. “And you’re definitely not supposed to becomefriendswith the prophesized catalyst.”
“She’s not my friend,” Quinn shot back.
August scanned her face. The realization hit him a moment later.
“But you still care.”
“And you don’t?”
August blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
Quinn glanced over her shoulder, lowering her voice. “You might have everyone else fooled—hell, you might even have Edith fooled—but not me,” she whispered, eyes searing into his with surprising courage. “I was there when you two were in Blackwood. I saw how you were together. How youlookedat her. That kind of twisted codependence doesn’t just vanish—”
“I would think very carefully about what you say next.” August inhaled a deep breath and a slithering shadow sprouted from his palm, wrapping around Quinn’s wrist.One more shadow, August thought.One more inch closer to the darkness.Inside him, something stirred…fury and rage and something far more rotten. Something he didn’t dare acknowledge. “Because it almost sounds like you’re accusing me of treason.”
“No.” Quinn shook her head. “I’m not. But”—she leaned closer—“Iamsaying I would understand.”
August flinched. He scanned her face, searching for some flicker of dishonesty, but all he saw was a bone-chilling sincerity etched upon her face.Can I trust her?The question echoed in August’s mind. It would be a risk, revealing the truth of his motives, trusting anyone but himself.
“You should be more careful,” he suggested in a hoarse whisper. “You’re supposed to cast the Reaper’s Kiss tonight at Equinox. These kinds of thoughts…these kinds of doubts…they could lead to your ruin.”
Quinn’s face paled. When she spoke, her voice wavered. “Are you threatening me?”
August stepped closer. “I’m warning you.”
Quinn assessed him. She was clearly just as torn as August was—battling her better instincts, confronted with the question of whether or not she could trust him. But she must have read something in August’s expression, because she stepped closer, and all at once, her walls came crumbling down.
“We want to help her,” she blurted out.
August glanced over his shoulder, paranoia coursing through him, but nobody seemed to be around. Not that that mattered. Anybody could be listening. Watching. He was constantly being monitored and followed by other Onyx Unit Demiens, shadows tailing him that he couldn’t shake off.
“Quinn—” August whispered her name through gritted teeth, but she interrupted, eyes welling with heartbreaking desperation.
“No,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I can’t. I can’t keep pretending.” Her chest rose and fell with panicked breaths as she continued, the words tumbling out of her, as if she was trying to speak before she could convince herself otherwise. “Artie and I have been trying to plan an escape for her since the beginning. The timing has just been off. We figured if we gave her access to roam the encampment more freely, she’d take it upon herself to investigate—”
