MasukMore chapters coming later during the day! I just didn't want to leave you guys hanging until much later.
EMBER’S POVThe janitor at the far end of the cafeteria has stopped mopping and is staring.“Nathaniel, get up.”“Not until you tell me if there’s a chance. If there’s anything I can do. If Queenie has said anything to you about what she needs from me that I can still give.”I stare down at him on the dirty linoleum.Queenie’s words from the car hit me suddenly.Looking at him now, her jealousy toward Knox makes terrifying sense. It was never romantic. It is so much worse.She has to sit back and watch her husband pour every ounce of his energy, his sharpest focus, and his absolute devotion into another person day after day.He gives Knox everything. Queenie just gets the scraps.“Get up,” I say. Gently but firmly. “Off the floor, Nathaniel. This isn’t a briefing room and I’m not Knox and you don’t need to be on your knees for this conversation.”He gets up and sits back in the chair. His eyes are wet and he doesn’t wipe them and the vulnerability of that — Nathaniel allowing someone
EMBER’S POVMy spine stiffens. I know what this is.He’s going to plead his case. He’s going to explain why Knox should keep him, why the twenty years of service outweigh the sixty-three bodies, why firing him would be politically catastrophic.He’s going to be logical and measured and strategically compelling because that’s what Nathaniel does — he engineers outcomes.And he’s come to me because he thinks I have influence over Knox’s decision, which I do, and he thinks he can convince me to use it in his favour, which he cannot.“If this is about Knox—”“It’s about Queenie.”I stop mid-dismissal.Whatever I was about to say evaporates from my mouth and what replaces it is silence, because of all the things I expected Nathaniel to say in this corridor, that was not one of them.“What?”“I need to talk to you about Queenie.” His voice is different from any version I’ve heard before.This voice has been stripped and sanded until there’s nothing left but the grain underneath, and the gra
EMBER’S POVWhen her eyes meet mine, the dying socialite and the sharp-tongued ex are nowhere to be found. The pretense is over.Underneath it all is just a terrified girl who has worn armor for so long she forgot it wasn’t skin.“So why are you doing this? Why are you selling me hope right now like it’s something I can afford? Why are you trying to make this HARDER? Do you know how hard I’ve fought to get to this place? To this acceptance? I don’t want to go back to the hoping, Ember. The hoping is what kept me awake at three in the morning bargaining with a Goddess who stopped listening months ago.” Her voice drops to a whisper that is barely audible above the heart monitor. “I’m scared. I am so scared, and I have been holding this together with herbs and sarcasm and sheer fucking vanity, and under all of it I am TERRIFIED of what comes next. Of the dark. Of whatever judgement the Goddess has waiting for a woman who left good men at altars and manipulated everyone she ever loved and
EMBER’S POVMy heart twists in my chest.Because of my mother, I always viewed my capacity to love, to forgive, and to unlearn as my absolute greatest flaw.I hated being the kindest person in the room, because it usually meant being the first one taken advantage of.But why should I bear the burden of other people’s cruelty? Why should I crush the one thing most of the world has entirely lost?If there is one thing I know for certain now, it is that some people are worth the extra mile. They are worth the second chance, the kindness, and the forgiveness. It isn’t naivety anymore.My heart finally knows the difference between shrinking down just to please others, and standing firm in my truest, kindest self.“I don’t know what happened between you and Knox in Zürich,” I say. “He didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask, because whatever passed between you two belongs to you, not to me. But I know that something you said or did in those hours is the reason that man shifted on a tarmac and ran a
EMBER’S POVQueenie’s hand tightens on Rayana’s so hard I can see the knuckles whiten.“No. No, no, no. You told everyone six months. You SAID six months, Rayana.”“Six months was the number from three months ago. The disease didn’t get the memo about pacing itself, and my body has been less than cooperative with the ‘fighting it’ part of the programme.” She looks between us and the smile she attempts doesn’t land anywhere near where she aimed it. “Dr. Patel used the phrase ‘aggressive trajectory,’ which is medical speak for ‘start saying your goodbyes.’ And that was twelve days ago. So whatever’s left of those two weeks is…” She waves her free hand vaguely. “Not two weeks.”“Days,” I say, and my voice comes out smaller than I want it to. “You’re talking about DAYS.”“I’m talking about whatever the ‘aggressive trajectory’ has left me, which at this point is less of a timeline and more of a countdown.” She looks at Queenie, who is crying silently with both hands wrapped around Rayana’s
EMBER’S POVI look at Queenie. Queenie looks at me.Neither of us has an answer because the truth is that in the chaos of the Bacchanal’s aftermath — the heat, the compound, the rescue, everything that followed — nobody stopped to check.Queenie laughs.It comes out high and tight and hollow.“Okay, come on. You’re both scaring me right now and I’m not doing this.” She waves her ice cream cup like a tiny plastic shield against the direction this conversation has taken. “Rafael is not alive. He simply CAN’T be alive. We barely made it out of that lodge in one piece, Rayana. Ember was drugged, I was terrified, Knox went full wolf and tore through that man like he was made of paper. You want me to believe that someone survived THAT and is just what, recovering quietly somewhere while we all frolic around Alaska having ice cream?”“Queenie—”“NO. I refuse to accept it. Think about it logically.” She holds up a finger. “If Rafael was alive, why wouldn’t he have come for us already? We slep
EMBER’S POVThe mattress dips sometime after three in the morning.I’ve been lying here for hours, staring at the ceiling, my mind running circles around the photo of Queenie still burning a hole in my phone.Sleep feels impossible. Every time I close my eyes, I see Rayana bleeding on the marble. S
EMBER’S POVI nod desperately.“Liar.” He pumps into me slowly, his thumb circling my clit with featherlight pressure that’s nowhere near enough. “You’re never quiet. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”“For goddess sake, Knox, please—”“Please what?” He’s smiling now, the bastard. Enjoying
EMBER’S POV“I want to recover here. In this penthouse. Not locked away somewhere safe and isolated.”And there it is. The trade she’s been building toward.I almost laugh.“You want to stay here,” I repeat slowly. “With us. With Knox.”“You heard me. What part of dying don’t you seem to understand
EMBER’S POVI stare down at Knox on his knees, my pulse slamming so hard I can feel it between my legs. He's grinning up at me like a wolf who's already tasted blood, gold eyes glowing, fangs just barely peeking past his lip.I fold my arms, pretending my thighs aren't already trembling."What do I







