“Because I thought you’d like to be something other than a propaganda machine, you asshole!” I snarl. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving you free rein to control me!”
He steps closer, his expression free of anger or any other emotion. “Do you know what a Warden is, Beast Bound?”
I bare my teeth. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You read the description I’m sure, but that was only a Tier One,” he continues, ignoring my question. “A Warden is a protector of sorts.” He reaches up and runs a strand of my hair along his fingers as he moves in closer, towering over me on this crowded street. “That means I protect whoever is close to me, if I so choose. Many seek my kind out.”
“I don’t need your protection,” I spit, refusing to back down.
“Cipher thinks you do,” he laughs. “Or else I wouldn’t be here.”
His words earlier suddenly make sense. Havoc isn’t here because he wants to be. Cipher is making him, somehow. Whatever he has on him, it’s enough that Havoc is now part of our group.
It wasn’t because of me that he’s here.
I tilt my head up. “That true?” I ask.
Cipher hums in my mind. “You are a Tier One, Vespera. I thought?—”
“Fuck you,” I spit, cutting off any explanation as I scowl at Havoc. “Fuck both of you.”
“Vespera—” Cipher tries again.
I shut him down, building that mental wall brick-by-brick just like I practiced. My mind goes blissfully quiet. Then I shove past Havoc and rush into the crowd to try and find my Bone Breaker.
CHAPTER52
VESPER
“Locke!” I call, searching the crowded streets for him. The streets here are filled with NPCs and players, a variety that reach out toward me as I pass. “Locke!”
“Hey, watch it!” a man snarls after I bump into him.
“Sorry,” I murmur, and keep pushing through. “Locke!”
“Hello, player! Can I interest you in?—”
“Locke!” I yell again, frantically searching for him before he gets too far away from me. There’s no way to know which direction he’s gone, or even if he’s still in the area, but I have to try. He’d looked so upset. I can’t leave him like that. I don’t want to do this without him.
I rush forward, shoving through thickening crowds, getting stepped on and yelled at by players and NPCs alike. I don’t know where Havoc has gone and I don’t really care. The legend can fuck off at this point. Stevie is hovering behind me and Svetlana is flying through the air above, trying to find any sort of clue as to where he could have gone.
I break through the crowd and stumble into an alleyway that is strangely empty of people. Svetlana lands on my shoulder, her legs moving back and forth in her usual stance.
“This looks . . . eerie,” she comments, staring down the alley.
“Locke?” I say, not as loud as before, almost a little hesitantly.
The alleyway is dirty and strewn with trash. Old newspapers and things I can’t name are scattered across the concrete, leaving me to step on or over them. The crunch of my boots hitting the trash and squashing it is loud in my ears, echoing against the walls, and I suddenly worry I’ll alert something else to my whereabouts.
“Locke,” I whisper, my eyes narrowing at the brightness at the other end of the alleyway. I can’t exactly see what’s there, but something tells me to keep moving forward. My instincts are screaming viciously, putting me on edge. Svetlana feels my anxiety, and tenses, her arms raised in preparation for a fight.
There’s an almost static zing in my mind, but it fades quickly, my mental wall still firmly in place.
I move around a large trash receptacle and nearly jump out of my skin when a man sits up from a pile of trash.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Just passing through.”
“Stop,” the NPC says. “Don’t go that way.”
