Page 8 of Shattered Jewel

Sasha’s eyes—those warm coffee pools—reflect an array of emotions: concern, affection, but also ... anticipation? An odd sense of distrust ripples through me. How much can I trust her now that I know she’s been sneaking off to a place where I am 100 percent certain there are stone tables, iron chains, and electric clamps in their basement? How much can I trust myself after willingly enduring it?

Or rather, how much can she trust herself before she ends up down there, too? It wouldn’t be Axe, Wilder, Cav, or Kaspian tying her down, men who put my pleasure above theirs. It would be the initiates, the ones with no limits on what they can get away with when they lock the door behind them.

My voice barely rises above a murmur as I tackle the topic we’ve been tiptoeing around.

“This mansion you’re going to for the anonymous sex…”

Sasha doesn’t flinch at my open reference to her secret indulgence. Instead, her chin juts out slightly—a stance that bespeaks pride rather than shame. The hint of a smile tugs at my lips in silent respect.

I’m not about to shame her. It’s not for me to judge what avenues she chooses to explore in her pursuit of pleasure.

All I want is for her—us—to stay safe during our uncommon pursuits.

“Thornhaven Manor isn’t filled with rich playboys looking for a bit of fun, Sasha.”

My confession comes as a faint whisper; low enough not to shatter our cocoon of faux normalcy within these four walls. “There’s something far more evil about them. It’s not just hedonism but something ... perverse. You’ve realized that, right?”

Sasha’s gaze lingers on mine, her expression unreadable. One I’ve never seen before on her open, cheerful face always behind a strumming guitar, or crunching on cheese puffs after a particularly bad day, or offering a pep talk when I tell her about hellish exams.

Do I know this person? Does she know me?

“I know something about them is off,” she eventually admits. “But that’s part of the allure, isn’t it? The risk, the forbidden thrill of it all.”

I search her face, trying to understand the emotions swirling beneath the surface. There’s a hunger in her eyes, a longing for something more than the mundane existence of college life. But there’s also a flicker of dread, a recognition of the chances she’s taking.

“Sasha, you can’t keep going back there. You don’t know what they’re capable of, what they might do to you.”

She shakes her head, a rueful smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I can take care of myself, El. I’ve been doing this for a while now.”

I want to argue, to make her see the folly of her actions, but the words die on my tongue. Who am I to judge her choices when I’ve been drawn into the same web?

The truth is, I’m just as lost as she is, just as trapped by their allure.

Sasha crosses her arms, her gaze dropping to the floor as she starts to turn away.

Before I can second-guess myself, I blurt, “Maverick was involved with them apparently. And his murder—it might be connected to that house. Or some of the people in it.”

That gets her attention. “I knew there was more to them than just wealth and good looks. I’ve seen glimpses of it in the way they move, the way they speak.” Sasha’s throat bobs. “But I never imagined ... murder.”

And there she is. My friend, who I feel like I’ve known forever and believes me without a second thought.

My shoulders relax at the recognition, though my answering nod is stiff. “They killed him. Kaspian, Cav, Wilder, Axe—they’re sure of it.”

Sasha’s expression softens, and she reaches out, taking my hand. Her touch is grounding.

“Who are they? Tell me everything,” she urges, guiding me to sit on my bed.

We sink into my familiar comforter, the scent of my laundry detergent adding to the calm, centering me.

Breathing out, I start from the beginning. The moment in class when I became the center of the Court’s attention. Cav Nightshade with his cruel smirk, Kaspian Valenti with his green eyes full of cruelty and arrogance, Axe Devereaux with his silent intensity and insatiable need, and Wilder with his possessive, rough touch.

Once I start, the truth is a spool of thread unwinding from my lips.

Their ruthless quest for the ruby Heart. The Cimmerian Court Secret Society and the three Sovereigns…

Sasha listens carefully, her eyes growing wide at times, slanting at others.

The old-fashioned cat clock on our wall ticks by unnoticed as I tell her about Maverick’s alleged involvement with the Court and how this ruby necklace seems to connect all the dots. How he found the ruby Heart and split it in half. How one piece ended up in a necklace and was put in my hands by Gram on the day of his funeral.

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