Page 18 of Glutton for Punishment

My father is the head of this snake. If he decided tomorrow that my operation needed to disappear, it would.

Power like that doesn’t tolerate being ignored.

“When?” I ask.

“The message didn’t say.”

He hands over a small postcard. Blank on one side. Flipping it over, I recognize his handwriting. ‘You should come see me,’ is all it says.

It may look like a friendly invitation to some, when in reality it’s a veiled threat. He likes to remind people who holds the leash.

I lean back in the chair and stare at the ceiling, thinking through the possibilities. If he’s calling me to Feastwell now, it means he’s noticed something—either the resources I’ve been diverting to the search, or the rumors already spreading through the city.

Either way, avoiding him will not work any longer.

“Set the meeting,” I say.

Lucas observes me. “You sure?”

“Not even close, but some decisions aren’t optional,” I reply.

Chapter 5

Alexi

You’d think coming home would put a smile on my face.

The road curves beside the ocean like a dream. Water stretches to the horizon, glittering under the afternoon sun, while palm trees sway in the breeze. Their shadows slide across perfectly paved streets that lead toward pristine white resorts and rooftop pools where wealthy Vail tourists sip neon cocktails and convince themselves they’ve discovered paradise.

If I only focus on that side of the view, I can almost pretend I’m coming home to something beautiful.

But the smell ruins the illusion every time.

Even with the windows rolled up, it seeps into the car. Sweet at first, before the sour edge underneath it settles in. Like fruit left too long in the sun. Rot wrapped in sugar.

The scent sticks to the back of my throat, familiar and impossible to ignore.

Lust looks like paradise if you stay on the beach. Step two streets inland and the mask slips.

Across the road from the glittering coastline, the actual city sprawls out in cracked pavement and flooded alleyways. Trash floats through standing water that never quite drains. Broken glass catches the sunlight like tiny mirrors. Needles glint in the street gutters.

The resorts along the coast rise like a wall—tall, gleaming towers positioned so their guests never have to see what sits behind them.

A beautiful lie protecting a rotting city.

I rest my head against the passenger window and watch the ocean blur past.

For most of my life, I thought the academy would be my way out of this place. It’s the dream every kid in Lust grows up believing. Climb high enough and you escape decay. Bigger houses. Better views. The power to ascend so high above the streets that their smell becomes a distant memory.

Of course, nobody talks about the price of that climb.

You sell pieces of yourself along the way until there’s not much left to bargain with. I should have known the academy wouldn’t be any different.

My gaze drifts toward Thomas in the driver’s seat as he steers us down the coastal highway. A year ago, this ride would’ve been loud.

Thomas never shuts up when he’s relaxed. He fills the silence with stories about parties, women, whatever ridiculous scheme his den is running that week. I’m right there with him, laughing and throwing fuel on the fire. Pointing out all the holes in his ridiculous stories of conquest.

Now the quiet between us feels heavier than the ocean air. Things have changed.