“And here is where you’ll be working,” she said, stopping just shy of the entrance. Before continuing, she looked each of us in the eye, as if that would drive home her next words. “There is one rule that mustn’t be broken if you wish to keep your job: never directly touch the Genesis Crystal. Understood?” At our nods, she stepped aside and allowed us to spill into a tall cavern, so large that walking to the other side would take a solid minute.
But the sheer size wasn’t what had my mouth dropping in wonder. The cave was covered in green. Not pale green or even leaf green, but a rich emerald, deep and pure and—I swallowed with difficulty, my throat suddenly bone dry. The crystal was beautiful. Startled by a tugging sensation, I swiveled, half-expecting to find Jocelyn pulling at my suit. But no one was touching me.
Still, the tug persisted, calling, beckoning . . . draining. My eyelids drooped but I forced them open again. Maybe that punch to my jaw had caused a slight concussion. Before I could think more on the matter, Jocelyn clapped again, ushering us from the cavern and into a bright, impossibly clean-looking white room. I couldn’t find a speck of dirt anywhere.
“This is our final destination for today, men. Claim an empty table and sit. Someone will be with you shortly.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the big yellow blobs to gape at each other.
Sit? In these sweltering hot suits?
For the next several hours, I was poked and jabbed, stripped and humiliated by shifter doctors. I thought about fleeing the room many times. But, despite the ever-present rage simmering in my blood, I remained. I needed this job. Badly. Still, I questioned my sanity.
What had I gotten myself into?
“. . . and then he had the nerve to tell me to butt out. Like, he wasn’t doing his job in the first place. I had to. And he thought he could tell me what to do?”
Nevaeh had been chattering for almost an hour. Normally, listening to her gossip was soothing. She needed an ear and I was more than willing to offer one. This time was different. This time she was talking about Alec and Tarik, and the confrontation they’d had this morning. My mind kept circling back to her detailed description of Alec’s fist hitting Tarik’s jaw, and the image squeezed my chest. I coughed to clear my throat and Nevaeh paused, but I motioned her on.
What was he thinking, antagonizing Alec? What was Alec thinking, targeting one of the Fae who now worked for our father?
I tugged at the fraying hemline of my leggings, an older pair worn soft. Nevaeh had come over before I had woken, and I still hadn’t showered. Part of me didn’t really care if I did—the other part cringed at the wad of unwashed hair perched into a messy bun on top of my head. Showering felt like effort. I didn’t have the energy for effort. My mind had been spinning since the interview, and even sleep hadn’t given me rest. The Fae, Mordecai, Alec, Tarik . . . the storm in my mind was becoming a flood.
The brand was Mordecai’s way of raising the stakes. What would he do if I kept sticking my nose where I was told it didn’t belong? Or if Alec, or another shifter, reported me? I lifted my hand, instinctively reaching for the sore mark, but I balled my fist and withdrew. A dragon brand. My stomach curled. A permanent mark, a visible reminder that screamed who I was, who I belonged to.
I had been relieved when Nevaeh was the one to visit this morning, with no sign of Alec. But her words sent me plummeting further into myself and now . . . now I wanted to be alone. To wallow. To be as pathetic as I felt.
The only reason I’d had any joy in my Enforcer position over the years was my small ability to help. I knew there was a risk to my actions, knew that if I was caught . . . But the price was too high for the little I actually did. I should have learned that lesson four years ago. A brand was small, but if Mordecai caught me again . . .
If he caught me again, I wouldn’t be the only one to suffer the consequences. Of that, I was certain.
My neck ached, as if reinforcing my thoughts. The mark was resisting the natural and medicinal cures I tried, and I had to wonder if Mordecai had put chemicals on the brand. Thankfully, the pain was more tolerable than it had been that first night. I had almost felt better after running—literally—into Tarik, but the feeling had been short-lived. Probably a placebo. Imagined, like I imagined I could actually make a difference.
“Reagan. You okay?” I glanced up. Nevaeh studied me, her slender fingers sliding locks of her hair into a braid. “I think I lost you there for a minute.”
“Sorry,” I said. I reached for my cigarette case, resting on the couch arm beside me, and watched my fingers tremble as I went to light one.
“Are you all right?”
“Of course.”
Nevaeh stared at me, eyes narrowing. “I know you better than that. You can’t give up on them now. You’ve been doing this for years, and you rarely get caught. The Fae need you. And you started Tarik down a path. You can’t abandon him now.” She paused, her lips curving into a smirk. “Besides, he’s kind of cute.”
I groaned. The last thing I wanted to think about was the dusting of freckles on Tarik’s nose, or the way his hair fell over those bright green eyes.
No.
Thinking about him beyond our tenuous acquaintanceship was dangerous territory. He had felt guilty yesterday when he pieced
