Page 5 of Shattered Jewel

Chapter 2

Elara

The coldness of the hallway creeps under my blanket as I round the corner and bring myself further away from Cav’s room and the men reclining within it.

I’m vulnerable, exposed, my chest gaping with a fresh wound—betrayal. It’s with that sick, unyielding ache that I push forward, refusing to linger in this house of nightmares.

My feet barely touch the cold marble tiles when Axe throws open Cav’s door and catches up to me, his ash-blond hair like a muted halo in the soft light of the sconces along the scarlet walls.

He doesn’t say anything or apologize for so lithely cutting into my path and blocking my escape.

Axe stands motionless as I take him in. His features are a study in paradoxes—beauty hewn from cruelty, softness ruined by misery. My attention lowers, catching on the patchwork of scars peeking from his sweater’s neckline. His arms extend, offering clothes and a cloak. When our eyes finally collide, Axe probes for a reaction, but he’ll only find the impenetrable wall they put there.

“You need to cover up,” he murmurs. “Before you leave our wing. Cameras are everywhere.”

“Oh, so your lords have decided I can leave? How benevolent of them.”

Axe’s carefully sculpted expression doesn’t crack.

His concern comes off as an obligation, not care. I want to scream, to unleash the cyclone inside me. Here is a man who knows my brother’s blood was spilled by those he serves, yet remains tethered to them like a phantom refusing to stop haunting this mansion.

“A car will be at the front,” he adds.

“Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness,” I spit back, the words tasting like acid on my tongue.

I hate that I’m beholden to them to get out of here. As soon as I stormed out of Cav’s room, I realized my mistake. I could’ve at least sworn to go against them after I’d put clothes on and arrived home. There’s also the issue of finding Sasha in this gigantic manor, and once I do, there’s no way we can make that same trek through the forest Axe led me through.

Also, I have no clothes.

Even if I’d had the sense to grab my dress off Cav’s floor, it’s in shreds.

From Cav’s fury. His need. His total, utter dominance and my submission to anything he wanted to do to my body.

Only my breathing fills the space in the quiet corridor, and my fingers loosen their grip on the blanket. It slips, cascading to the floor with a whisper, leaving me bare before Axe.

Axe, the statue, the pillar of self-control, falters. His eyes widen a fraction—an imperceptible flinch, but it’s all I need.

“What’s the matter? You’ve seen it all before,” I say, the challenge clear.

Break, damn you, I want to add. Just show me something. Some form of remorse, of shock … of regret.

Advancing toward him, each step measured, I close the gap that separates victim from traitor. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, as I pluck the shirt and cloak from his rigid hands. Fabric whispers against skin as I dress in sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt under his gaze, never breaking eye contact.

There’s power in this silence, in this defiance.

“Elara—” His low rumble is almost a plea, but I’ve no patience for it.

Axe isn’t about to apologize or win me over. No, he wants to explain his loyalty to the Court. My brother’s murderers.

“Save it.” I interrupt. My tone is ice, my posture regal despite the disaster that churns within.

The cloak settles around my shoulders, a black velvet shield against the scrutiny of Sovereign gods and men alike.

Without another word, I pull the hood over my head.

For one painful second, Axe looks like he might say something, but his mouth tightens and he turns away from me instead.

I do the same, the cloak billowing behind me like dark wings.

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