Page 45 of The Shadow Sanctum

I hurry onto the box to take the noose off his neck, but Aiden shakes his head, his face so much calmer than it should be.

When I tug the rope halfway up his neck, his knee juts into my hip. My arms flail, but before I can fall, he catches me with his bound hands.

“Stop.”

I grasp onto him when something hard hits my back. “Aiden, they’re gonna kill you.”

“I know,” he says, so matter of fact. So accepting. I don’t know why that would ever surprise me. “They should… You told them they could decide. Let them.”

My mouth opens. But the single-word chant—traitors—pounds in my head and robs my argument of breath. Accusations of my demonic origins break through the solidarity, and a useless thought ricochets through my skull.

Even Thorne couldn’t make them love me.

Aiden’s face softens. “It’s all right, kiddo…”

Let me be a martyr.

He doesn’t say it, but as the voices mute, clarity forms. And I understand. I understand why he forgives me. I understand why he did it. And I understand why he spent his last moments communicating his silent messaging with me instead of saying goodbye to his wife.

He’d already said goodbye.

“You got caught on purpose,” I realize aloud, my heart sinking.

For a moment, he says nothing. But then his lips curve into a sad smile. “Some things need a catalyst, Luna.”

I blink rain from my lashes as my stomach pinches tight with pain that drives all the way up my chest. My throat closes too much for me to speak, so I just nod my understanding.

I hop off the box and let the objects hit me. Welcome each shoe or glob of sand or metal watch. I meet Father’s vengeful glare only a moment before I shove the box from beneath Aiden’s feet.

The crowd roars as my friend dangles in the air, struggling for breath.

I close my eyes and force myself to stand like a statue on the podium.

None of the friends Aiden spoke of come forward in his name. No one shouts anything about the Chief Elder’s unequal distribution of forgiveness—though they're out there, probably outnumbering those truly loyal to my father’s rule.

Before my friend stops struggling and dangles limply behind me, I know for certain he was right.

My people are afraid of me.

But they’re afraid of my father more.

CHAPTER 16

SAWYER

I’m a barnacle plastered to Angel’s naked back, and his question—Why the fuck are you naked?—only makes things awkward. Because I tense from my neck to my toes, my hips bucking with the sudden rigidness.

“Uhhh.”

“Get the fuck off of me.” Angel throws his elbow into my rib—not hard, but enough to ache. My limbs release him as I roll to my back with a groan.

It takes half a second for my body to grow cold in the fire’s absence; the rock beneath my back may as well be a sheet of ice. I crawl past Angel to situate myself in front of the flame, my hands rubbing together just inches from the fire’s flicking tongue.

Angel grabs his soaked boxers in my periphery and pulls them on while I contemplate how this could be so awkward.

It’s not the nakedness. We were college roommates and spent a decade as neighbors on a kink island… We’ve been in more than a few orgies together.

But that time is over. I hadn’t felt how finished it was until now, and I think he feels the same.