Page 6 of Shattered Jewel

The grand staircase unfurls before me as I move downward, my focus split between stealth and tracking the never-ending initiate party moving from room to room in between selecting blindfolded girls to play with. The cloak’s fabric brushes over me like a protective shroud, but it does little to stifle the heat of anger coursing through my veins.

When I spot Sasha standing at the base of the staircase, relief surges, quick and sweet. She’s safe, her warm brown eyes meeting mine with an expression that mirrors my own.

“El,” she says with a big smile, and there’s a universe in that single word. Her familiar features are balm to the raw edges of my soul.

“Thank god you’re okay,” I say, rushing down the rest of the stairs.

She’s wearing the same type of cloak I am, the hood drawn back, her flowing black hair seeming to become part of the fabric.

We don’t waste time catching each other up with what happened once we were separated. Sasha falls into step beside me as we navigate the maze of hallways leading to the main entrance.

It won’t hit me until later, but it eventually will—the ease with which Sasha turns through each hallway, her chin up and her attention directly ahead … like she knows exactly where she’s going because she’s done it plenty of times before.

As promised, a black car idles on the circular driveway outside, its sleek form barely visible through the stained glass of the manor’s doors. We slip into the back seat, the heavy door closing with a definitive thud that seems to seal my exit from this world.

Their world.

“Hey,” Sasha begins, her voice soft and tentative so the driver doesn’t overhear. “What happened in there?”

I glance at her, registering her earnestness. Sasha’s been here before. She’s comfortable in this world of sexual decadence. Yet I’m reeling from the fact that she’s known about these secret gatherings and tasted their forbidden fruit without ever whispering a word to me.

“I...”

How do I even begin to unravel the night’s events? The touch of Cav, Kaspian’s goading, Axe’s corrupted loyalty, Wilder’s deliberate ignorance, my brother’s murder. I bear scars that mar more than just flesh—they etch deep into the fabric of my being.

It’s not just about the ruby Heart anymore; it’s about revenge and justice for Maverick.

“Elara,” she presses gently, her hand finding mine in the darkened space between us.

I should feel repulsed, disgusted perhaps, at the thought of Sasha reveling in such anonymous, high-risk escapades. But the emotion doesn’t come, smothered by the weight of horror I bear, by the black tar that clings to my heart.

So I squeeze her hand, seeking solace in the familiarity of her touch.

“Let’s just go home,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Home,” Sasha echoes, her smile a tiny flicker of what it usually is.

The car’s engine purrs, a soothing undertone to the chaos spinning in my head. Outside, the estate fades into a blur of stone and wrought iron as we drive far away.

“Hey,” Sasha teases, nudging my arm. “You’re getting that face again where you look like you’re plotting world domination.”

A laugh escapes me, bitter and short. “Feels more like the world is dominating me right now.”

Sasha leans closer, her brown eyes glowing bronze under the passing streetlights. “Want to talk about it?”

I turn my gaze out the window, watching the stars flicker in a black sky. How do I voice the tangle of hurt and anger, the sting of betrayal that lingers like Maverick’s ghost on my skin?

“It’s all just ... a lot,” I admit.

Sasha releases a sob. The driver glances in the rearview, then dutifully away when Sasha buries her face in her hands and sobs again. “I’m sorry.”

“Sasha?” I lean forward, clasping her forearms. “Sash, talk to me.”

“It’s because of me,” she says, her voice escaping through the gaps between her fingers. “I shouldn’t have just thrown you in there like that. But I’ve been so lonely—it’s like this giant secret I’ve kept, going to their parties, participating in anonymous hookups. With your history with Kaspian or maybe Axe, I thought you’d be open to coming along and seeing what it’s like, but then I couldn’t find you. God, what was I thinking by bringing you? You must hate me now.”

I absorb Sasha’s confession, the weight of her loneliness and desperation settling like a stone in my chest. The car hums, engine vibrations thrumming through the seats as he takes the narrow, winding roads back to campus.

Sasha’s face remains buried, her shoulders shaking.

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