Page 54 of Godless Saints

“You bought him something.”

Aleksei closed his eyes.

Misha’s mouth opened. Closed.

“What is it?”

“A ring.”

“Of course it’s a ring,” Misha said. “People call me unstable, and then I spend five minutes with the fucking Irish.”

Aleksei opened his eyes. “You bought Aster’s Patronage candidate a ring while holding a Blood Writ on him.”

“It’s proof,” I said.

Misha stared at me. “Proof of what? That you’ve completely lost your mind?”

I stepped away, facing the door.

Misha grabbed my sleeve, grip tight. “Cil, this is a bad fucking idea.”

I barely stopped. “Declan’s boys touch him again, they’re dead.”

“I’ll handle Declan,” Misha said quickly, voice urgent. “His boys won’t get near Moon again. I’ll get you a name. Just… don’t do this.”

I looked at both of them. Neither of them looked away. Best friend. Worst conscience.

“Fine.”

“Fine like you understand, or fine like I need to follow you with a shovel?”

“Bring the shovel.”

I opened the door.

“That wasn’t a joke,” he called after me.

“Then make sure I don’t need one.”

The heavy door of the Thorn locker room slammed shut behind me. I moved fast through the underground corridors, adrenaline still burning under my skin. By the time I reached the Aster side of the academy, my steps had slowed into sneaky mode.

Aster Court was quieter at this hour. I slipped through a side entrance no one ever guarded properly, then down the narrow service hall that led to their locker room. The door was unlocked, typical Aster arrogance.

I pushed it open just enough to step inside.

The Aster locker room smelled of Moon’s soap—something clean and expensive, cedar and a hint of citrus—and cold tile. Rows of dark wood lockers lined the walls under harsh overhead lights.

It was empty except for Moon. He stood at the mirrors in nothing but a towel. Water slid down the smooth, slightly tanned lines of his back, daring me to follow it with my tongue. No tattoos. Just clean, defined muscle that flexed subtly as he moved. Wet hair pushed back from his face. His bare chest glistened under the harsh lights. The white gauze across his collarbone was bleeding through again, bright red against his skin, too close to his throat.

My hand crushed the doorframe. Wood groaned. Three days of silence, and here he was, half-naked, furious, and still the only thing I could see.

Moon heard the door. His gaze cut to mine in the mirror. The towel lowered slowly from his hair. Those cold, furious eyes locked onto me.

“Get out.”

I shut the door behind me with a quiet click, the sound loud in the empty locker room.

Moon’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You have five seconds to explain how the fuck you got into Aster.”