Page 200 of Glutton for Punishment

A flash of blonde hair moves behind her. Hands clamp around Wicka’s forehead with brutal precision. Wicka’s eyes close and her entire body goes slack, dropping into a heap on the ground like someone cut the strings holding her upright.

The pain inside me vanishes quickly. I suck in a breath, almost collapsing from the sudden absence of agony. My vision clears just enough to lock onto the figure standing over Wicka’s fallen body.

“Paris?” I ask, hoarse, disbelief cutting through the remnants of pain still clinging to my limbs.

Paris glances at me once, already turning away. “Wicka’s only passed out,” she says. “Let’s go.”

She jerks her chin toward the chaos ahead, already moving. “Your girl doesn’t have long.”

Chapter 66

Arwen

I’ve lost all sense of time, but I cling to my clarity to ensure my shields stay in place.

I roll my shoulders against the restraints, not because it helps, but because I need to feel something physical to keep my mind active. The metal bites into my wrists and ankles, but even that sensation feels distant.

Despite the new environment, I find myself in a familiar place.

A cage.

Again.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes, focusing inward.

The shields are there, layered and deliberate. I press against them now to feel their strength. They hold like steel. Separating my mind from everything that tries to reach in and take from me.

I can feel Vex’s power when I test the edges of my mind. It’s still out there, probing to get inside. But now it’s different. What was once a battering ram now feels like a light tap.

I open my eyes again and stare at the ceiling.

Every one of them was a cage. The academy. The designation. The boxes that the Councilors and everyone around me kept trying to fold me into.

Different bars. Different locks. Same purpose.

Invisibility was a fantasy I clung to. The ache to dissolve back into the wallpaper, to be so unremarkable no one would look twice. After my power woke, I’d lie awake craving the before—the girl who was nobody’s business, nobody’s weapon.

That girl was gone. She believed that staying small meant staying safe. That if I didn’t take up space, the people I loved wouldn’t become targets.

Was she right? Is that why I’ve let them catalogue me? Wrath. Gluttony. Sinless. Obedient and unseen—a ghost who follows orders and doesn’t ask questions. All to keep the few I have left from paying for what I am.

I shift my wrists again; the metal scrapes against my skin. I think about all of it. Every version of me. Every cage. Every time I’ve been told who I should be and what I should believe.

Was I better off before?

No.

That thinking is a cage of my own making.

The thought of shrinking back into that quiet, unseen girl makes my stomach clench. To be so small my voice can’t make a difference. So silent that I become an accessory to other people’s plans. A cold, clear certainty spreads through my ribs. This is it.

I am not a consequence. I am a cause. The power to shape what comes next has always been mine. I will not hide in the shadows and hope to be overlooked.

My fingers curl, tugging against the restraints.

If I’m afraid to own who I am, I will stay in a cage built by other people’s intentions. The cage will always be my story.

I inhale deeply, letting the air settle into steady resolve. A feeling flows through me. A tingle, barely noticeable.