Page 50 of Fallacies

“Could have been worse,” the latter admits, glancing in Callan’s direction. “Bad news or good news?” Hunter asks him.

Callan’s demeanor shifts, the warmth he’d been observing me with slipping away as he steps into the Captain’s shoes. When I look up at him, his back has straightened, and the line of his jaw is tight.

“Bad news,” he decides.

Pax looks to Hunter, who looks to Phoenix, who rolls his eyes dramatically before confessing on an exhale, “I’m in love.”

Callan blinks, and Pax lets his head fall to his hands.

“Don’t be mad!” Phoenix shouts, reading the sudden tension in the room. “I caught a Rogue,” he explains, “and at first, I was sticking to the usual; torture and question, torture and question, etcetera, but…” He pauses. “She was different. I can’t explain it, and it’s making me sick. I spent three days trying to kill her, and well…” Phoenix shrugs, “I couldn’t. So, I left her alive. Tied up in our bunker. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Silence falls.

His mismatched eyes dance around the room, trying to gauge reactions that no one is giving him. We’re all too…stunned.

There’s a weighted thud as Callan sets his mug down on the counter. “Phoenix…” he exhales. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Nix blinks back at his Captain. “I couldn’t kill her, so I left her there.” Another shrug. “That’s what I mean.”

To my surprise, Callan shoots a death glare at Pax, who does his best to avoid eye contact.

“You left a Rogue in our bunker? Alive? Because Phoenix…” Callan’s tone is sharp as he struggles to find the right words: “loves her?”

“Yes, dammit!” Nix roars, fists slamming into the coffee table. The entire room flinches. “I hate it more than anything, and I wish it weren’t the case, but here we are! This is all I could come up with, because she can’t leave that bunker now that she’s seen us, and I. Can’t. Kill. Her.”

Callan stares daggers at Pax.

Pax puts two hands up in defense. “He wouldn’t let us near her,” he explains, eyes darting to Hunter for support. “We would have handled it ourselves, but you know how he gets about things.”

I’m equally curious and terrified as to what that means.

“Sorry, boss,” Phoenix blurts out, but there is zero real emotion or remorse in the apology. “I’ll fix it,” he assures us. “The next time we go back, I’ll be ready to kill her.” Nix uses his finger to draw an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

Callan’s jaw ticks, his eyes narrowing on Phoenix like he’s trying so hard to understand. After he’s taken a few deep breaths, Callan nods slowly, rolling out his shoulders. “Just…tell me the good news.”

Pax straightens, tucking his thumbs into the sides of his vest. “Alaric and the other four Rogue Disciples aren’t in Streatham. They’re in Onyile.”

Callan’s brows furrow, and I bounce my gaze between them.

“They’re not in the Estate with the Sol?” Easton clarifies, and Pax shakes his head.

Callan presses both of his palms into the counter, still trying to work through what was just said. “Then who is ruling Streatham?”

Hunter swallows a sip of his coffee before replying, “Nix’s girlfriend is low-ranked; they only sent one small search party for her when she went missing, and they gave up quickly. All we heard was mention of Alaric’s inner circle in the south and someone they call the Countess ruling the Estate. We don’t know who she is or her relation to Alaric, but she isn’t a Disciple.” Hunter glances at Pax. “The rest of their conversation was gossip and rumors.”

It’s huge—the Disciples being in Onyile. It means Streatham and the Sol trapped there aren’t being guarded by immortals that we stand no chance of going up against. They’re being guarded by lower-ranked Rogues.

Without the threat of Rogue Disciples in our rescue mission, the ward around the Estate just became our biggest obstacle.

And I know the way past it.

Callan nods, the tension in his shoulders softening. He takes the coffee pot from Hunter, refilling his coffee and mine. “What else did you hear?”

Sinking onto his elbows, Hunter braces his weight against the counter and shakes his head. “Gossip and rumors, boss.”

“Anything could help,” Callan retorts.

Sighing, Hunter obliges him, “They said Alaric has the Hound.” He holds up his fingers in air quotes. “Kneeling at his feet in Onyile.”