7 - LEXI - WHAT THE HELL HAVE I DONE WITH MY LIFE?

— He’s one of them, isn’t he? The mobsters who tried to kill you — and shot me? — I ask Sami, standing across from me in the office.

— No — he says calmly.

— No? That’s all you’ve got for me?

— I’ll get you a drink. You need one.

I watch him leave. I’m shaking, my hands so cold I can’t even feel my fingertips. I was just threatened by a gangster.

When the door opens again, both men step in. Sami hands me a glass of wine.

I toss it back in one swallow, their eyes heavy on me.

— Like it? — Sami asks, watching the glass.

— It’s the worst wine I’ve ever had. Tastes like iron. If that’s what you serve here… you won’t last long in this city.

Neither of them answers. Their silence is answer enough.

— I don’t want to work here anymore — I go on. — Tomorrow I’m going to the police and filing a…

— It won’t matter. — Cael cuts me off, his voice low, sharp, dominating the air. — This is above the police.

— Why did that man talk about clans? — My head pounds with questions. — What’s a vicarius?

— We divide ourselves into clans. Families — but bound by will, not blood. — Cael pauses, glancing at his friend. — Sami is my vicarius. Second-in-command.

— Second-in-command of the club?

— Of the clan.

I rub at my temples. This feels like a delusion — one of my mother’s.

— Why did you call me your victus?

Cael exhales, his eyes narrowing, weighing whether he should go on. Finally, he yields — like the words themselves go against his nature.

— We have rituals… of loyalty. When people like you choose to join a clan, they go through a specific one. Those who do are called victus.

A shiver races down my spine. The pieces fall into place in the worst possible way.

— It’s a cult, isn’t it? — My voice shakes. — I heard some women saying…

Before I can finish, the room shifts. Cael’s expression shuts down, hardening into a mask of cold fury. The word cult pierced him like a blade.

— That’s enough. — I push to my feet. Fear floods into a desperate need to run. — I don’t want to know. I’m leaving.

I take one step. It’s all I manage.

In an instant, Cael is in front of me. The next, his hand clamps around my hip, and the world flips as he hauls me over his shoulder without care.

The air punches out of my lungs against his back.

— Cael… — Samiel’s voice is almost a plea, but Cael doesn’t flinch.

He carries me out of the office, up the stairs to the third floor — his apartment. My fists pound against his back, but it’s like hitting stone.

We pass through the sitting room where days ago the trio was tangled up in their little show, and then the door to his apartment swings open. The space is massive and shadowed. The only light spills from the bar stretched across one wall, shelves of glass glowing with backlit bottles.

He doesn’t stop. He cuts through the room and into a bedroom dominated by a massive dark-wood bed. With a jolt that knocks the breath out of me, he throws me onto the mattress.

One of his hands swallows both my wrists, pinning them above my head. The other braces beside my face, caging me in. His legs lock mine down.

I’m trapped.

A lone lamp on the nightstand throws just enough light to catch the hard lines of his face — and the fury burning there.

But his scent — wine, cologne… and something metallic, feral, I hadn’t noticed before — floods my senses, tangling my thoughts.

— What do you want from me? — I gasp, our faces only inches apart.

Cael’s eyes are ice on fire. His chest heaves, breath rough and ragged.

— I want you to stop being stupid and understand the danger you’ve walked into. — His voice is so raw it scrapes.

The accusation hits harder than a slap.

— I didn’t do anything!

— You didn’t have to! — he roars. — All you had to do was exist. Azrion saw you. He caught your scent. And now he wants you. You think the police can help you with men like him?

Terror locks me in place, and I stop fighting him. The way he speaks about Azrion — as if he’s a force of nature, a monster—freezes me from the inside out.

— I don’t understand…

— You wouldn’t survive one night out there without us. — He leans in, his breath brushing my lips, his eyes burning into mine. — But if you want to go, you’re free. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.

He releases my wrists. The gesture shocks me. Cael doesn’t move away, but the weight shifts — less force, more of a tension that’s far too intimate. His hand trails down my arm, slow, deliberate, stopping exactly where the gunshot should have been.

My heart kicks hard. Heat burns across my skin where his fingers linger. He knows… the effect he has on me.

— Stay away from me — I whisper, but there’s no conviction in it. My body, traitorous, tilts closer, craving the touch I just tried to deny.

— I’m the only one who can keep you safe now — he says, like he’s confessing a bitter truth he hates. — I didn’t want you here, Alexia. You’re a problem I never asked for. But now you’re mine to deal with.

He pushes up from the bed, giving me space to breathe. I sit up, trembling, my thoughts scattered, nothing making sense.

Then he strides to the door, pausing with a glance over his shoulder.

— You have a choice. — His voice is cold as stone. — Stay here tonight. Keep working. Drink our terrible wine. Or walk out that door and find out if I’m lying.

He doesn’t wait for my answer. He leaves, and I’m alone in the room. His scent lingers in the air, in the sheets, on me… and his words pound in my skull.

It takes me seconds to move, to reach the door — where I find Samiel leaning against the wall, watching me with curious eyes.

— It might feel like a prison. But it’s the safest place you’ve got right now.

If this is the safest place… what the hell have I done with my life?