Nyx

When I woke up, the world was suspiciously... soft.

First clue: I wasn't on the gritty wooden floor where I'd passed out like a ragged puppet.

Second clue: the jacket draped over me wasn't mine.

Third clue: the socks on my feet were thick, warm, and absolutely not from the pack's "give the attic rat whatever scraps are too ugly for thifting" bin.

Leviathan was gone—vanished like smoke—but the evidence of his existence clung to me. The jacket smelled faintly of smoke and that strange metallic scent he carried, the kind that made you think he'd crawled out of a war.

Whatever. He was gone. Out of my hair. Out of my immediate danger radius. ...Though I hated how quiet the attic felt now. Talking to him—had actually been... nice.

Dangerously nice.

So I focused on the floor. Scrubbing. Scrubbing. Pretending my life wasn't constantly dangling over an open pit like a carrot over a rabbit with a grudge.

Cue the universe, which adores irony:

"Well well, look at the dirty rag trying to earn her keep," Kori sang—because of course she did.

I didn't bother looking up. "The floor can't clean itself."

"Oh, do you think pretending to be useful makes you less pathetic? Think you're cute?"

"Depends on who's watching," I muttered, giving the mop bucket a swirl for dramatic effect.

She snorted. "No one worth anything is watching you. No one even knows your name."

Clang.

The bucket flipped over act gone wrong, water splashing across my clothes, soaking through everything. I stared at the mess. She grinned like the devil on casual Friday.

"Oops, I'm just so clumsy today!"

I rubbed a hand over my face. "How do you hang onto your halo?"

Her smirk cracked. "You shouldn't be in any mood to be this snarky towards me, given your current situation."

Right. My situation. That fun little apocalypse.

"Oh yeah?" I said. "And what situation would that be?"

"I told the patrol teams you've been hiding an injured rogue," she chimed. Like she was announcing the weather. "Big mistake on your part. They're coming for you."

I blinked at her, slow, heavy-lidded, feigned confusion down to an art. "A rogue?"

Meanwhile, panic was doing backflips in my chest. Did she see him leave? Did someone else see him? Did he leave tracks? Damn him for wandering off before the sun was up—

"So you admit it?" she crowed. "Doesn't matter. I already made the report. It's being taken very seriously. You broke pack law. You'll be lucky if they just banish you."

She was so proud of herself she might just float away.

"You look very excited about this," I sighed.

"Of course. When you're finally gone, Dad won't have to pity you anymore. And Dante won't have to keep pretending he can't smell you rotting up the place."

"You talk too much."

"You exist too much," she snapped, triumphant. "Luckily, I've fixed that."

She strutted away, humming like she'd just saved the kingdom from a dragon instead of tattled like a spoiled brat with daddy issues.

I watched her go, a slow, wide smirk tugging at my mouth.

She really thought she'd just won.

Oh, sweet idiot.

If she was coming for my throat this hard, then in the future...I'd return the favor twice as hard.

After all, survival isn't about fairness. It's about timing—and I've always been patient.

***

The noise started around 3 p.m.—the kind of chaotic thudding that tells you idiots with badges are about to ruin your day.

"They're here! They finally came!" Kori squealed like Christmas arrived early and the present was my corpse. She practically floated with joy. Of course she was thrilled. Nothing brings a girl together with her family like the possibility of getting me killed.

I needed an excuse—a shield, a distraction, a miracle—but time was already sprinting ahead of me.

The front door slammed open, and Kori all but dragged the patrol guards inside. Father followed, jaw clenched. Her mother stalked behind him like a queen entering court ready to order an execution.

"Upstairs. Now," Father hissed at me.

Right. March to the gallows. Decline and I look guilty. Agree and I still look guilty. Classic.

I followed.

When I reached the attic, they were already tearing through my space like raccoons hopped up on espresso—flipping blankets, scanning corners, sniffing air.

"There! That scent matches the unfamiliar scent we've been chasing for days!" one officer barked.

I turned in time to see another lift Leviathan's jacket from my cot.

"It still smells of that rogue! The beta's attic! I guess we know now why we couldn't find him!"

Yes, yes—condemn me! Free me from this house-shaped crypt. Please and thank you.

"How dare you?!" Kori's mother snapped—then slapped me so hard my vision pixelated.

I steadied myself, lifted my chin. "Drop the act. You clearly planted it. I'm just your easy target."

Chaos is a beautiful thing. It blinds people to details. And if Leviathan's trail ended here, maybe—just maybe—I could buy him time.

"Don't you dare accuse my daughter!" she shrieked. "You've been sneaking around for weeks! How could it not be you?!"

"I haven't hid anyone," I said.

"Then where did this blood come from?" another officer demanded, lifting a sheet.

"Period." He immediately dropped it like it was radioactive. "As you can see, I don't exactly have accommodations, so I make do with what I have."

"Enough!" Dante barked from the stairs.

Just like that—Kori and her mom went from rabid hyenas to delicate daisies. I guess Dante's voice does wonders for the spineless.

He stalked toward me like I was supposed to cower. Cute.

"You. You're going to tell me everything you know about this rogue."

"I already told you I don't know anything."

"Don't play dumb! His scent is all over this room!"

"Maybe your trackers should clean the boogers out of their noses, because I don't smell a thing."

Kori jumped in like a trained parrot. "Don't listen to her! She's lying, Dante! All she ever does is lie!"

"She's always been a problem," her mother chimed, voice trembling with fake righteous fury. "We took her in from the street! We've been nothing but kind! And she dared bring a rogue into our home—with my daughter here! The law is clear—what this rag did is a crime!"

"Stop it," Father said quietly.

For half a second—I swear—hope flickered. Then I remembered what planet I'm on.

"You told me to stay inside," I said, sharp. "You know I didn't—"

"Don't make things worse for yourself," Father cut me off. "What are your orders, Dante?"

There it was. No defense. Just damage control—for himself.

Dante stepped close enough that I could smell his breath, sour with ego.

"I can help you," he murmured. "If you agree to my proposal from yesterday. This doesn't have to happen."

As if. "I'd rather be shot," I whispered.

His face went nuclear red.

"TAKE HER TO THE HOLDING CELLS UNTIL HER PUNISHMENT IS DECIDED!"

Beautiful. A ticket straight out of this hellhole.

Two officers tackled me like I was a wild boar and slapped cuffs on me. I didn't resist. No point. I simply turned my head toward Father.

He refused to meet my eyes, jaw twitching with guilt—and fear. He knew exactly what this meant.

If he defended me, he looked complicit.

If he didn't... He lost the ability to monitor me.

And I know a lot of his little secrets.

"Don't worry," I said sweetly. "I've got plenty to say at the prison."

That got his eyes on me. Perfect. I smiled—wide, sharp, sweetly malicious.

"How noble—but that won't save you!" Kori crowed. "Let's see how high you can hold your head at your execution!"

Oh, bitch.

I'll hold it so high they'll need a ladder just to slap me again.