Page 122 of Anomalies

I am an abomination. The two sides of my blood don’t mix; it swirls within me like a violent storm that I didn’t ask for. I didn’t ask for any of this, but I have it now, whether I want it or not—there is no carving it out of me. It’s untamed and vicious, but mine.

And I have a chance to make it worth something. To do good with it.

“I can’t die, Fenton, I have too much to do,” I force out, a tremble in my voice that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the sheer amount of control it’s taking to keep this new beast within me silent and still. “My mother’s people need saving, and I’m the only one that can⁠—”

“We are not your mother’s people!” he shouts, and my eyes flare in a desperate plea for him to be quiet. “She ruined us! Betrayed us all! And you will perish with her⁠—”

Anger flares alongside fear. “You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about."

“Sick!” he screeches. “You’re sick! And everyone here will know it soon enough!”

“Stop. Yelling,” I warn, when the muffled sound of voices starts up from outside the bunker. I can’t have the Captain barging in here, if Fenton tells Callan who I am…What I am…

He’ll never look at me the same again.

Neither will Gemma, nor Selene, nor Kimber…

I’ll be done here. I’ll be killed or exiled, and not even the Captain will be able to save me. He might even want to do it himself. I’ve heard stories of his trips through the Banyan at sixteen—an unquenchable bloodlust in those silver eyes. He said he likes the gold in mine, but he doesn’t know where it came from.

And he can’t know. I’m not ready.

“Your father can damn my soul to Pyra for all I care!” Fenton hurls at me, blood and spit flying in all directions. “I’ll tell EVERYONE here⁠—”

Magic cracks—and shadows move about the room, whispering things that make Fenton’s mouth snap shut.

“No,” I say calmly. “You won’t tell a soul.”

“Are you going to cut my tongue out then?” he hisses back at me. “That’s the only way I’m keeping your secret, dirty blood.”

Don’t hesitate, Chaos.

I shake my head, a tear slipping down my cheek. “That’s not the only way, Fenton.”

All it takes is two swipes on either side of his neck, the silver of my blade glinting against the crimson that pours from the fatal wounds. A third swipe for his tongue—so he can’t speak beyond the grave. But it’s merciful compared to the death the Captain had planned for him.

This way, he keeps his memories.

And he keeps my secrets, too.

EPILOGUE

LUCINA

“And where is Fenton now?” The Dame asks, and I’m snapped back into my body with a jolt. It’s the third time I’ve zoned out in this meeting.

The Captain doesn’t hesitate. “Dead.”

“Dead?” Delia gawks. “But he wasn’t given a fair trial!”

Callan clears his throat, his fingers flexing along the upholstery, but he isn’t the least bit apologetic when he says, “I was more than fair.”

Grey eyes meet mine—cool, calm, and collected. Smug even. He wasn’t angry when he burst into the bunker and saw me covered in blood that wasn’t mine, a shocked expression on my face, I’m sure. Most of what came after was a blur, but Fenton was going to die regardless; I’d just beat him to it.

I had to.

I refused at first to let Callan take the blame, but when it comes to murder, justified or not, it’s more likely that my judgment would be questioned more than the Captain's. He wouldn’t let me risk a punishment, and the last thing I need is unwanted attention from the three women before me.

The air in the room thickens, and we’re all just witnesses to the way the Dame and the Captain glare at each other. “Do you want to tell me why you’ve denied him a fair trial?” she asks finally.