Page 111 of Shattered Jewel

I can’t put her at risk. Not Sasha, not the guys.

Staring down at my friend, I confront the terrifying facts.

I’m an innocent sacrifice for a power-hungry secret society. It’s absurd. Grotesque, even.

Elara Wraithwood is the final descendant of a feared healer, accused witch, and suspected assassin from centuries ago.

If anyone had told me that the tales uttered in hushed tones about Sarah Anderton were true, that her blood ran in my veins, that I was destined to be a sacrifice for the Cimmerian Court’s relentless pursuit to unleash a demon, I would’ve laughed it off as one fucked-up joke.

But reality doesn’t take jokes lightly, and it certainly doesn’t allow escape from its iron clutches.

Would it be selfish to shatter Sasha’s peaceful reality? Could I even bear to watch the light dim from her eyes when she learns that the men she’s begun to trust are entangled in a plot that could very well cost me my life?

“No,” I breathe softly, feeling a boulder lodge itself in my throat. “No, she can’t know.”

I can’t let her know.

I can’t let the guys know.

Not until I have more and understand what my brother tried to stop.

Sasha’s left the TV on, and I nestle beside her curled up legs, choosing an old rom-com to watch. Sasha had the right idea in skipping afternoon classes. Acting normal seems like a far-off goal these days.

I’m halfway to a nap when I hear a noise on the other side of the wall, in the foyer.

Footsteps.

Fright doesn’t hit me, not in the fortress Mom’s built, but curiosity does.

I lean into Sasha’s body, peering into the open archway in time to see Axe navigating the flooring in the way I taught him, a 3-2-1 step process that will bring him into this room unscathed.

“Hey,” I greet.

Axe stiffens in surprise, glancing over.

I frown. Axe doesn’t startle easily.

Slipping out of the blanket I decided Sasha could share, I pad closer to his still form. “Axe? You okay?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Yes.”

I press my lips together and give a single nod, because that’s the most I’ll get out of him in terms of how he’s feeling. “Where are the others?”

“Others?”

“Kaspian, Wilder, Cav. Wilder said you guys had a job and would be back soon.” I check the grandfather clock at the top of the stairs. “That went a lot quicker than I thought.”

“Oh. I didn’t go with them.”

This time, my brows pull together and accompany my frown. “No? I thought you four did everything together. Why didn’t you go?”

“Not everything.”

He says it in such a low tone, such defeat, that I move closer. “Axe?”

Axe’s gaze is remote, as if he’s looking past me, into aspects of his fractured memories I can’t begin to fathom.

“I—” he starts, then snaps his mouth shut as if biting back an unpleasant confession.

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