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185: Stillness & Surrender
Last Updated:
2025-07-31 01:52:58
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THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 189: The Sixth Law
The air in the House Six common room had thickened with the kind of tension that makes even walls listen.Adonis had said nothing.But he didn’t have to.Joy’s eyes narrowed as she stepped forward, boots clicking on polished stone like gunshots. “So that’s it, isn’t it?” she said sharply. “Julia found out something she shouldn’t have, and you killed her before she could expose you.”The silence that followed didn’t feel like silence at all.It felt like being watched.By the room. By the history inside it. By the shadows that curled along the high ceilings, pressing into corners where the light didn’t dare stretch.Adonis looked away.“Is that why Jon died too?” Joy added, her voice like broken glass—shattered and slicing.Across the room, Hannah froze.Her lips parted slightly as she turned toward Joy, alarm flickering in her eyes like a faulty lightbulb. “Wait… how do you even know about Jon?”Her voice trembled.“How do all of you know—?”But no one looked at her. Not even once.Ho
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 188: Quiet Control
By the time third semester rolled in, Fiero, Miriam, Moses, and Joy were fifteen years old. Mika and Samuel were fourteen, but no one in their right mind treated them like underclassmen anymore. They were no longer prodigies, they were a threat. A rumor. A warning passed in hushed tones.They were House Six.And they knew it.Out beyond the academy walls, Luca Avancii received a curious birthday gift-a gift from his estranged son, Fiero.Luca Avancii stared at the box like it might bite. Inside, four photographs and a folded note.The first: the lower level of Demon Core, glowing with its unnatural hum, sulfurous mist curling in the corners.The second: Samuel grinning like a devil-child, blade in hand. Its hilt bore runes that shimmered in the light like they were watching him.Third: Mika. Smiling sweetly. Holding what looked like a charred asteroid fragment. The angle of the photo gave the illusion the rock had a heartbeat.Fourth: This was the most disturbing, a picture of Edwa
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 187: What's Already True
Miriam locked her door. Again.She didn’t know why she even bothered.She should have known better by now.She lay down, staring at the ceiling, trying to breathe past the feeling—that feeling, the one that had been creeping under her skin ever since Samuel decided she belonged to him.But tonight felt different.The air was heavier.The shadows stretched longer.And then—Click.Her stomach plummeted.She heard it.The soft, deliberate turn of the lock.The door creaked open, slow and patient. She didn’t even look.She already knew.He was here.She gripped the blanket tighter as Samuel stepped inside, moving lazily, like he had all the time in the world. His karambit spun between his fingers, the curved blade catching what little light filtered into the room.She forced herself to sit up, forced herself to not shrink back. "You can’t keep doing this."Samuel exhaled, mock disappointment coloring his tone. "Doing what?""Breaking in. Deciding where I go, who I talk to—"He moved. Fa
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 186: A Party Of Knives
The video call had come in that morning—fuzzy and half-hearted, a family tradition more dutiful than joyful. Faces on the screen smiled too wide, voices strained as they chorused Happy Birthday! and promised he was missed. A chocolate cake had been delivered to House Six’s common room shortly after, its surface smeared with clumsy icing and one broken candle mashed into the corner.It sat there now, untouched. Ugly. Like something that had already been eaten once.The frosting was melting down one side, and someone—specifically, Dr. Xavier Peterson—had been carving at it with a butter knife for the past twenty minutes. He sat cross-legged on the floor like a gremlin professor, licking frosting from his thumb and occasionally humming tunelessly. Crumbs freckled the front of his slacks. The man looked utterly at peace.No one mentioned that he wasn’t invited to the birthday celebration.No one cared.Fiero wasn’t even in the room. He was in the upstairs bathroom, standing beneath t
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 185: Stillness & Surrender
The room was quiet. Not with peace—but tension.Joy moved like a sin she knew she could get away with. Her thighs framed his hips, bare skin catching the low, flickering lamplight. Every motion was deliberate, languid. A performance for the one man who never clapped.Fiero watched her. Flat gaze, jaw set, arms loose at his sides. Still.He hadn’t touched her yet.She liked that. Too much."You’re letting me ride you like a prize horse," she murmured, tilting her head, sweat trailing from her temple to her collarbone. “Am I really that good?”He didn’t answer. His expression didn’t flicker. But she could feel the tension in his thighs beneath her. The faint tick in his jaw.Control.Always, always control.She rolled her hips—slow, unhurried. Felt the thick pressure of him stretching her open with an ache that bordered on cruel. She moaned soft, exaggerated, almost mocking and leaned forward, palms against his chest.Still, he didn’t touch her.“God, you’re so dramatic,” she whispere
THE PRICE FOR HIS NAME 184: Happy Birthday
Fiero dropped his phone onto the bed with a dull clunk, the sound swallowed by the plush sheets beneath it. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just sat there, the tension crawling beneath his skin like static, fingers twitching at his sides. Then without looking, he reached for her. Joy. Already curled up beside him like she owned the bed. Like she owned him. And maybe she did. She always had. They’d known each other since they were babies—back when their mothers would leave them in a playpen in the sunroom and joke about arranged marriages. Fiero had pulled her pigtails at four, thrown a mud pie at her at five, and punched a boy for calling her bossy at six. She’d scratched his face with a pencil in second grade. He still had the faint scar beneath his jaw. His fingers slipped into her locs now, the motion rougher than he meant it to be, but she didn’t flinch. She never flinched. Her eyes stayed on him—watchful, amused, dangerous. “You good?” she asked softly, voice thick with
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