Hate by K.A Knight

Sliding the tray through the hole in the cell door, I snatch my hand back as a stone claw comes through and seizes it. Grumbling, I throw the now empty trolley into the storage cupboard. Why the fuck am I being a maid again? Oh, that’s right, my mate has a plan.

I should have just grabbed her and got her out of here when I had the chance, but she distracted me with her logic and boobs and now I’m stuck serving all the crazy fucking monsters and criminals the council keeps down here. It’s taken me over a day to do my section and exhaustion is settling in, so I head back to the nephilim sleeping quarters. Some of them are already asleep, one even has a knife in his grasp as he snores.

The fucking psychos, and people think I’m crazy, it’s no surprise when I grew up with these nut jobs.

I head to the back of the room, past the beds, and find a corner I can put my back to. I need sleep, but I’m not trusting them not to attack me when I’m weak. Sliding down the wall, I press my spine against the cold brick and pull out two blades, one in each hand, and close my eyes.

I know I need sleep, I need to be rested and strong for whatever my mate has planned, but shutting my eyes is like sleeping in a viper’s nest and sends a shot of adrenaline through me as I wait for them to attack...but then nothing happens.

I start to relax, sighing as my body unlocks from its defensive position, and I slump tiredly as the adrenaline drains away. The cold from the floor seeps through my wrinkled clothes, making me shiver. The air is stale and smells like you would expect with over forty men asleep in here—bad. I focus on everything else, trying to get my mind to settle. I anchor myself in the moment, what can I smell, feel, and hear…

Eventually I relax enough so I start to feel myself drift off to sleep. I sleep half awake, keeping my ears open for any attacks, but the room is quiet other than the rhythmic ticking of a clock.

“Mum,” I call, my fist propped under my chin as I watch the hands on the clock move slowly. “Where is he? He promised to be here by five, but it’s now half past. He’s always late! He promised this time, promised me!”

I hear her sigh. “I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if he cares,” she whispers quietly, and I know I shouldn’t have heard that, but sometimes she forgets I don’t have human hearing. I turn my head, spotting her worrying her bottom lip as she looks at the clock herself before seeming to shake it off and perk up. “I don’t know, baby, he probably got held up working—”

“Like always, we see him less and less, does-does he even love us anymore?” I ask, my bottom lip wobbling uncontrollably as tears fill my eyes. “Is it me? Something I did? Am I not good enough? Is that why he doesn’t love us? I can be better! I swear!”

She rushes over and drops to her knees before me, cupping my face as her human eyes fill with sadness and anger even though her voice is soft. “Shush, baby, no. You know he loves you very much, sometimes he just gets distracted with work is all. Everyone has their downfalls, Griff, but we love them for it even more because those imperfections make them real. You are an amazing son, the best he could have ever asked for, so don’t ever question that again!” She squeezes my cheeks harder then, forcing my lips to create a fish face, and she smiles in return, like the sunshine through a cloud. “There, how can anyone not love that squishy little face?”

“Mum!” I protest, pulling away softly, remembering my own strength versus hers and not wanting to hurt her.

She laughs but drops her hands, clasping my own on my lap. “He loves us, baby, don’t ever question that, he just doesn’t know how to show it. He’s not like us.”

“Soft? Weak?” I say, throwing back the words of the other kids.

“Strong,” she corrects in a stern voice. “It takes true strength to love, Griffin, true strength to admit someone is your weakness and let them in anyway. Only the strongest of us love, because to love is to give someone the keys to hurt you.”

“What…what if they hurt you?” I question, looking away from her eyes, tracing the wrinkled hands clutching mine. Her body is getting weaker by the day. Dad—Gabriel—says it’s because she’s getting old. I asked him if I would, and he said he didn’t know, that we would have to see.

“Then they hurt you. That hurt shows you just how deeply you cared. And in that hurt you find your true strength, you find the will to carry on, and eventually you will discover that sometimes heartbreak is the best thing to happen to you because it teaches you lessons and only makes you wiser for the next time. Don’t be afraid to love, Griffin, it’s scary, unpredictable, and imperfect, but it’s also beautiful, life affirming, and the reason we live. We search our whole lives to love someone, and when you find them you hold on tight and don’t let go. You love everything about them, every quirk, every flaw, every failure because it shows you who they really are, that they love you enough to show you them.”

“Do you love me?” I query, trying to understand what she’s saying. It doesn’t add up to the cruel names the other kids call me for caring, for loving. Or even the clinical, almost cruel way my father describes the necessity for companionship.

“With all my heart. You are my miracle, Griffin. The reason I keep on living, the reason I fight all those bastards out there, and sometimes even your father. I love you more than this human heart can hold.” She presses her hand against her heart and then mine, listening as it beats along with hers. “You have such a capacity for love, my boy, don’t throw that away. Be strong. This world will try to tear you down, don’t let it.”

She smiles then, it’s beautiful and imperfect like she describes. Her teeth are slightly crooked, her lips hanging higher on one side, but it’s familiar and the one she gives me every night and every morning. It reminds me of home, of love, and I am finally beginning to understand what she means.

“Mum—” She starts to fade away and I jerk, my hands reaching out to grab her as she disappears into mist, the smile on her face turning sad.

“Be strong, baby, trust yourself,” she whispers.

“Mum!” I scream.

A hand covers my mouth and I jolt awake, realising I had fallen into a deep sleep. Fuck. My eyes connect with those of the two nephilim above me. They seem familiar somehow, but I don’t have time to connect the dots because they are hauling me to my feet. I fight back, slashing out with my knives, and I hear one grunt as I hit my target, but then a black bag is placed over my head and I’m disoriented. I’m guided from the room and I feel cold air hit my body as we head outside.

I stop fighting, saving my strength for whatever they have planned. They are silent and I feel the gravel give way to grass under my feet. Suddenly I’m jerked around and my face is smashed into something strong and rough. A tree? Maybe. My hands are tugged around the wide trunk and I growl, slashing with my knives again, but a grunt escapes me when they break both wrists, my knives falling to the ground with an audible thud. My hands are tied, the razor wire cutting into my injured wrists which I can feel trying to knit back together. They step away then, and I can hear their ragged breathing from somewhere behind me.

Grinding my teeth, I tug on the razor wire. It’s tight, but I could cut through my wrists if need be to escape, except I don’t know how long it would take for it to heal and I would be weak from blood loss. Plus, what would I do? I can’t hurt them back, the council would have me killed. It would give them proof that I’m the mad dog they call me.

No, I need to be strong. I’ve survived worse, I can survive this. As long as they don’t kill me, I can survive it. I repeat it again and again, forcing my mind to toughen up and push all thoughts of my mate away. She makes me feel weak, and I can’t afford that now, not if I’m to get through this and back to her side where I belong.

They don’t remove the bag, so I can’t even see them, instead I close my eyes and focus on my other senses. I can smell them, the scent of wings and the metal they are carrying. I can feel their anger and hatred brushing along my back with the force of it. I hear them shifting, their boots crushing twigs even as they try to stay silent, but they can’t stop their breathing or the pounding of their hearts.

“Well, isn’t this fun,” I deadpan. “Do trees make you hard or something?”

“You fucking abomination,” one of them spits, his voice low.

“I’ve heard that before, you guys need new insults, it just sounds like a pet name now,” I taunt. I don’t know why, maybe it’s a habit. I won’t show them my fear, I’ll force their hand, mess with their plans. They don’t get to see my weaknesses, only Dawn does.

“Do you remember us?” the other one questions, his voice breaking like he can’t speak, and that’s when it hits me. I know why they are familiar.

I go quiet and the one with the deeper voice laughs. “Oh, I think he does, so he knows why we are here...revenge.”

“I was a kid, I had anger issues and you guys were assholes,” I snap.

I remember them, and he’s right, they want revenge. They had been saying shit about my mum for days, spreading rumours, calling her a whore, weak, a sheep. They made the mistake of saying it to my face the day I had a fight with my dad over slapping my mum. It was their blunder.

As much as I like to believe the darkness, the madness hiding inside me was created the day they took my wings, I know differently deep down. I was born with it. I’ve always had it. Yes, they brought it out that day, but it appeared one other day before. That day with these two. I had waited for them, attacked them. The one with the ruined voice? I ripped out his throat with my bare hands and put it around my neck like a trophy. Later, I handed it to my mum as a way of telling her they couldn’t hurt her anymore with their words. The other? Let’s just say it’s a good job we can’t have kids, because there’s no way he ever could now.

Afterwards, my mother had been horrified, and that’s when I realised I had done something bad. Something really messed up, something only a monster would do. She looked at me differently after that, as if she finally understood I wasn’t human but something else, something capable of killing and hurting in ways she couldn’t imagine. Oh, she still loved me, but it was tinged with fear. I hated them for making our last moments filled with that. I blame these assholes for it. Maybe I would have been triggered some other way, maybe I wouldn’t have. All I know is they are the reason I became scared of myself, of what hides within. I buried it deeply after that, never letting it show, becoming perfectly in control, cold even. It was easier if I didn’t feel, because then I couldn’t react. I saw the sadness in my mother’s eyes as I became more and more like my father, but I did it for her. To protect her from me.

“I didn’t know any better,” I growl. “I was a kid, we were all kids. Plus you totally had it coming. Tell me, how’s the cockless life going?”

One of them growls, and I hear the other nephilim holding him back. “You are nothing but a feral animal,” the one with the ruined throat tells me. “Do you know how they break feral animals?”

“If they can’t tame them, they kill them,” the other one continues, “but before that comes a whole lot of pain. We are going to tame you, Griffin, but I really hope we can’t. I have been dreaming about killing you since I was thirteen.”

“All I’m hearing is that you have dirty wet dreams about me. Kind of weird,” I tease.

“I hope that humour helps you survive this,” he growls.

Something thick, barbed, and sharp slices across my back. It tears through my shirt and skin as pain flashes through me in white-hot heat. A groan slips out from the suddenness of the attack, but then I bite down to stop any more sounds from escaping.

Weakness is strength.

Pain is living.

I can do this.

The lash comes again and again, and they leave different stints between the hits so I can’t predict them. I only hear the slither as it slices through the air, heading for my unprotected back which is already on fire. My body stiffens at the sound, making the pain worse. I feel the skin trying to stitch back together again, but there are too many wounds, so it’s slow going. I feel blood coating me, dripping down my back to my trousers and to the ground below. Like a sacrifice to the earth.

They laugh as I writhe in agony, a scream trapped in my throat. Unwillingly, my mind reaches for Dawn, needing to feel her loving touch for just a moment. It was the wrong thing to do as she fills my mind instantly, gasping in pain. She feels the next lash and the lash after that, I try to push her out to block her off, but she won’t leave.

Her anger and hatred fills my head, her utter helplessness at not being here to kill them. I feel it, the need to bathe in their blood, to stop the pain they are inflicting on something she has claimed...something she loves.

It gives me strength, her love guides me, and I try to make my mental voice as strong as possible.

Calm down, Vasculo, this is just a bit of foreplay. See you soon.

Then I push her from my mind and block it off so she can’t come back, so that she doesn’t have to witness this humiliation, to see the weakness of her mate and let the pain rip through her. No, this is mine to deal with.

And she reminded me of one thing—we are not victims.

Not anymore.

I’m stronger now, because of her. Fuck this and fuck them.

I let her anger twine with mine, and it fills me up, blocking out the pain with icy tendrils of utter madness. It reaches for me, telling me I can make it stop, that it can help me.

Fuck this. The madness takes over and I let it. I hide in it like a child huddling in the dark, crying for his mum. Pain flows through me and I realise I’ve ripped my wrists open on the wire, but I am free. Blood flows quickly from my body and I instantly feel lightheaded, but I ignore it as I tear away the bag and turn with a snarl to see the two fallen.

My wrists blaze in agony as they stitch together, but I don’t give them the time I need, no, I move, uncaring about the pain or the damage. All that fills me is the hate I feel for these men.

They unlocked this madness when we were kids, and now they will feel the full wrath of it. I will kill them like I should have back then, without mercy or tenderness. They are dead men walking.

The one with the messed-up throat and a vicious-looking scar marring it tries to turn and run, no doubt remembering what I did last time and seeing his death in my eyes now.

He dies first.

Grabbing him mid-leap, I break his neck and then rip his head from his body. Using it like a weapon, I throw it at the other nephilim who is also now trying to run. It hits him in the back and sends him to the ground.

I stroll towards him, picking up the whip laced with barbed wire as I go. My shirt is falling from me in tatters, so I pull it off and let it fall to the grass, the night air stinging the healing cuts on my back, but it only makes me stronger.

I let the whip trail along the earth, hissing over the leaves until I stand above the man. He freezes, locked there like prey smelling a predator. I guess he does. All his life he was taught to be the perfect weapon, the perfect slave. It makes them unable to think for themselves, unable to react quickly enough.

It makes them easy targets.

Lifting the whip into the air, I let him hear it coming, enhancing his fear which permeates the air, and then I bring it down again and again, faster and faster. Droplets of blood and chunks of skin spray as I shred his back. When I stop, my chest is heaving, and I loosely hold the whip in my hand which drips with blood, hair, and skin, and the nephilim is unmoving beneath me.

His back looks like mauled meat, but I don’t want him to heal, so lifting his head I rip it off and toss it with the other, leaving them there. Slowly, my madness pulls back with a laugh in my head and I stumble.

Pain hits me and my head spins. During the heat of the moment it had disappeared, but it comes back full force and I drop to my knees on the grass, my body contorting as I try to keep in my screams. Fuck.

My eyes blur as it heals slowly. I feel each cut, each rip stitching back together, and all I can do is crouch here in pain, knowing someone could find me at any moment and I would be sentenced to death. I know what this means—my demise. If they find the bodies, the council will hang me, and it won’t be my wings they take this time, but my life.

Dawn.

She flashes through my mind, she needs me. I can’t leave her. Think, Griffin, think!

“Well, that was impressive,” comes a drawl, and I leap to my feet, spinning to see whoever is there. I crouch in a defensive stance. I won’t let them take me alive, I’ll escape and come back for her.

Titus.

He leans against the tree I was tied to, his face impassive, but there is a smile in his eyes as he watches me. He runs his gaze across the bodies and then back to me. “Well, well, well, fallen. I’ve got to admit, I didn’t expect you to have it in you.”

“I—” I fumble with words, fuck. I can’t kill him, they will launch an investigation and then I will be killed for sure, but how do I get out of this?

Escape is my only option, but I’m weak and still healing, so I won’t get far. I’m at his mercy and he knows it. He sighs before standing up and stepping towards me, ignoring my growl.

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell them I caught these two trying to leave and killed them.” He glances at the back of the nephilim I used the whip on and rolls his eyes. “Not before punishing them, of course.”

I stare at him in shock and confusion, but distrust winds through me. The only reason he would help me, lie to his own people about this, was if he needed something, and I don’t think I could afford the price, but what other option do I have?

“Why are you helping me?” I snap, my voice lined with pain. My energy is waning now and I stumble forward. I need to rest, not stand here arguing, but I have to know why. He notices and looks around before moving closer, his arm held out to help me, but I push him away and straighten of my own accord.

“Come with me,” is all he says, and then he starts to walk. Titus stops at the edge of the trees and looks back, waiting for me. I hesitate, but what choice do I have? Maybe he’s leading me to my death, maybe not, but unless I magically heal and can escape him, I have no other option.

I step towards him and his lips turn up slightly. He waits until I reach his side. My eyes narrowed, I threaten, “Try to kill me or betray me and I will rip out your heart and feed it to the monsters in your dungeons.”

“Noted.” He laughs. “Come, I am not here to harm you, fallen.”

“My name is Griffin,” I snarl, and he tilts his head to the side.

“As you wish, Griffin, come.” Then he turns and winds through the trees and I follow.

* * *

He leadsme through the forest, and just when I think he’s going to turn around and laugh and kill me, he bends down and pulls open a trap door hidden there. He glances back up at me for a moment before dropping into the dark.

This is a bad idea.

But I descend down there anyway. It’s black, utterly black for a moment before I hear the strike of a match, and then he illuminates the tunnel with a candle. He passes it to me before climbing back up and shutting the hatch. He takes the candle back and then heads down the passageway without talking.

I follow behind him at a safe distance, noticing the cobwebs on the curved walls which are brick and, unlike the dungeon, there are no claw or escape marks. So what is this place...and where does it lead to?

“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice loud in the quiet. He doesn’t answer me but keeps on walking, our boots splashing in the small puddles of water floating at the bottom of the tunnel.

We walk for another five minutes before it starts to curve upwards, then it ends in stairs. Titus places the candle on a holder there and blows it out. At the top of the steps is a square of light escaping through cracks of a thin door frame.

He uses it to climb the stairs and waits for me there, letting me decide what to do. I don’t trust him, that’s for sure, but I can’t go back, so the only way I can possibly go is forward. I follow him up the stairs and wait behind him as he unlocks the door, swings it open, and steps through.

I follow again and look around in shock. Where the hell are we? It has to be in the council’s mansion, but I’ve never seen this room before, and if they were trying to show off power this would be a good chamber to do so. It’s lined with gold. Gold frames house various watercolours of supernaturals in their forms. Golden lamps sit on a mahogany desk in the corner with the lights on. A golden chandelier hangs with what I can only guess are real diamonds.

Everything is gold.

It’s so fucking over the top.

There are two emerald green sofas pushed together in a L-shape underneath a gold, ornate mirror on the left wall with a small table between them. Titus heads to a bar in the other corner, pours two tumblers of amber liquid, and strolls my way. He presses one into my hand before sitting on the sofa, his legs crossed.

Testing him, I throw myself down on the other one, making sure to cover it in blood and sweat, and then I put my dirty, mud-caked boots on the table and cross them at the ankles. Sipping the liquid, I watch him. He doesn’t even flinch or frown, he doesn’t care. That, more than anything, tells me he’s different from the other council members, but why? And why help me?

“Where are we?” I inquire. I struggle not to move around as my back starts to itch with the healing. He sips his drink before placing it on his knee and letting his head fall to the back of the sofa, his eyes closing as he sighs.

“A safe place away from prying eyes. It’s cut into the walls, and only the original council knew about this. They used it as a hideout, a safe room, and to spy on people,” he explains.

“How did they spy?” I press, deciding I might as well get information out of him while he’s talking. It’s rare for him to be speaking, never mind to offer anything.

“Through that mirror, it shows the private council chambers where meetings are held,” he replies without looking at me.

“So why bring me here? Why tell me that? These secrets are dangerous.”

“So are you.” He shrugs.

“Who are you?” I question. He’s a mystery, he knows about the rooms and tunnels not even the council does. He’s powerful yet doesn’t show off, and I’m not sure Titus is even his real name.

Most importantly, is he friend or foe?

“A friend,” he offers.

“I don’t have any,” I growl back, but then that’s a lie, isn’t it? Dawn flashes through my mind, as does Nos.

“Fine, I’m not an enemy, Griffin, so stop looking for ulterior motives.” He exhales wearily.

“No one helps someone without a reason, especially not council members, so what’s your reason, Titus? What’s your story? Where did you come from?” I counter, throwing back my drink and letting the glass drop to the table with a thud.

He sits up, sipping his drink and watching me. “Knowledge is power, haven’t you ever heard that?”

“Yes, so, what, you’re going to use this against me?”

“No, I don’t need to. But I needed you alive, for now at least,” he admits.

“At least that’s the fucking truth. Fine, what for?”

“You’ll see.” He grins. “To answer your question, Titus is my name...now. It wasn’t always, I had another given to me by the man who made me.”

He nods then.

“Yes, like you. We have more in common than you could ever imagine, Griffin. I know everyone wonders what I am, but the truth is I am not one thing. I am so much more, a mix, a powerful one. I’m here because it is where I need to be, because I have things that need to be done. And you come into that plan, Griffin.”

“You were made? How? By who?” I ask, interested now. I feel my strength slowly returning, and every minute that passes relaxes me. He’s not here to attack me. I might not understand his reasons, but that’s clear.

“By a human many, many years ago. He created me out of fear and need, but I wasn’t the original, I was simply the first that went well. I didn’t try to kill him and had my own mind and soul, which is a tricky thing to create. But he bore me out of hate, Griffin, and fear and hate are strong emotions. It made me into a cold monster, as did the way I was brought up. I wasn’t a child, no, I was born into a man’s body and thrust into a world of pain and war. So let me assure you, I understand what it means to be called an abomination, an experiment. They will never know that I am one as well, but just think…” He grins. “A monster, a fucking experimentation on their own council, the thing they fear and hate most. Brilliant, isn’t it? Anyway, we have to stick together, so believe me when I say I mean you no harm.”

He turns his wrist then, looking at his watch and sighing. He drains the glass and adds it to the table with mine as he stands and tugs his shirt back into place, it doesn’t dare defy him. I sit watching him. “Council meeting time. Why don’t you stay? You might find it...illuminating.” He winks and then heads to a painting on the other wall. “Oh, and Griffin? Don’t worry about those men, they are nothing. You? You have a destiny.” He opens the painting, steps out, and closes it again with a click.

The room is silent, and I debate his words before standing and peering through the mirror he said was a spying aid. It must be a two-way mirror, but only able to be seen one way? Smart, really. I wonder who made this. He said the original council...the sleeping council? Why would they need to spy on their own officials? Unless they trust them as little as the rest of us do.

Like Titus mentioned, it shows the inside of the council chambers. The four walls are soundproof, so no one can hear in, and the giant golden door is locked from the inside, so I’ve never even glimpsed it before, but I can tell from the table. A massive, wooden, ornate piece takes up the middle of the room with six throne-like chairs spread around it.

There isn’t much else in the room except for a fire which is lit and a small serving area in one corner with yet another bar. Leaning against the wall, I watch as the door opens and the council files in. The last one is Amos, who sits at the head of one end of the table, while Titus takes the other, surprising me.

“Meeting is called to order. Does anyone have any issues to discuss?” Amos calls, sitting back in his chair like a king. I almost snort, but I don’t know if they can hear me, so I stay silent, watching instead, collecting intel.

“Not an issue, just informing everyone I had to dispatch two of your little loyal servants, they tried to escape and then attack me when I caught them. I punished one and then killed them both. Their bodies are currently decorating the east woods,” Titus says in a bored voice.

I see Amos jerk, his face darkening in anger. “You do not have the power to dispatch any of my spies without first consulting me.”

“You are not in charge yet, Amos. We are all entitled to punish our servants if we feel they are disrespectful, unless you feel you are better or deserving of more power than the rest of the council?” Titus challenges, a grin playing on his lips, knowing he has backed the man into a corner.

“Titus is correct. If they were escaping, then they are useless to us. Moving on,” Derrin declares, his eyes looking at the clock on the wall.

“I have been hearing rumours,” Greta starts, and Amos rolls his eyes, “of missing supernaturals. Has anyone else?”

“Of course, we hear it all the time, nothing more than made-up stories. They have probably run off.” Amos waves it away, but she leans forward.

“I do not think so. I trust these sources, and I do not think we should dismiss this so easily. We already have people questioning our leadership, so I think we should make a stand, show them why we lead and figure out what is happening among our own people.”

Fuck, I wasn’t expecting that, and it tells me two things. One, Amos is a part of this but not all of the council is. I analyse their faces, trying to note those who appear to be in agreement, but it’s hard, they have all had hundreds of years at perfecting their poker faces.

“Understood, we will monitor, and if the situation gets worse we will, of course, figure it out,” Amos concedes before looking around. “Any other issues?”

“There has been movement from the dragons. A source of mine informs me one broke through the gate and has since disappeared. I will continue to keep my eyes and ears open to ensure this was not a random occurrence,” Derrin offers.

“Dragons,” Greta scoffs. “They wouldn’t step foot here, they think it is beneath them.”

“There have been rumblings,” Titus interjects, tracing his hand across the wood in thought. “At Rejek.”

Rejek?

The...the old mountain? I frown at that. I thought it was dead, cursed ground where no one walked. Why would it be rumbling with activity and why would they be monitoring a dead mountain?

Amos glowers with contemplation in his eyes. “Indeed? How much...rumbling?”

“Abnormal amounts,” Titus responds, seeming happy about this news.

“I will send a message to confirm everything is okay,” Amos replies, distracted. “I will do that at once, we don’t need them interfering.”

“Why? Hiding something?” Titus retorts, and Amos narrows his eyes.

“It is for the best of us all. You are too young to remember the last time they walked among us, it was chaos. There was so much death, and half the council was killed as an example and replaced,” Amos snaps, standing and pressing his fists onto the table.

“Indeed?” Titus mocks. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

The others look back and forth between them, but it’s clear these two butting heads isn’t an unusual occurrence.

“I am confident you do not want that to happen, Titus, and that if they did come here, they would agree with every decision I’ve made, which has nothing but the betterment of our people and their interests at heart. Now, if you will excuse me, the meeting is adjourned.”

Amos turns and leaves the room, walking swiftly while the others talk amongst themselves as they exit, but Titus stays behind, turning his head and staring at me through the mirror like he can truly see me. I have so many questions, and that look only gives me more.

Whose side is Titus on?

His own? Ours? It’s clear it’s not Amos’s.

So if all of the council members are not in on this, then I need to find out which members are before we kill them. My job just got a whole lot harder.