Page 31 of The World Undone

Atlas’s foot slid slightly until the side of his boot pressed gently against mine. It was a small gesture, but my chest squeezed at his small encouragement, his solidarity.

“We’ve been on a few missions with Levi,” I started, trying to fully remember the details. He never confirmed anything, of course,” I shot Eli a weak smile, “I mean, you know how he is. Loves being all mysterious and probing and shit. But it was clear that he was something…more. All I know for sure is that he seems to have the ability to blur or compel human thoughts, but he also suggested that he could do the same with protectors, with supernaturals as well. I think—” I cleared my throat, the sound uncharacteristically loud in a room where I could suddenly hear a pin drop, “I think that’s why they’ve allowed us near this place in the first place, why Levi was always able to slip in and out of Guild life whenever he wanted, without anyone ever calling him on it—because he could erase whatever interactions he didn’t want sticking. He’s always existed as a sort of phantom in The Guild—no team, no friends, no clear role, slipping through the seams like a shadow. I think this is why—” I shrugged, “or, at least, how.”

“He can do what?” Eli’s voice was hollow, his dark eyes vacant.

“Seriously?” Wade leaned his head back, letting out a long exhale. “Is everyone a demon now? I can’t fucking keep up.”

Max’s face scrunched up in confusion as she turned to Darius. “Vampires can do that, right? Light compulsion, I mean. With humans at least?”

“I’m pretty sure Lucifer, and other higher demons can as well,” Wade added.

“Vampire compulsion is rare, and difficult to master,” Darius started. “It also can’t be employed at the level Declan is suggesting. At least not on protectors to the extent it would allow us to get past Guild security protocols, and definitely not on demons. Memories are very complicated, they are tied to our identities and once you pluck or change one, there is a ripple effect. No single memory exists in a vacuum. It’s why vampires rarely bother with it outside of blurring the thoughts of humans they feed from. More trouble than it’s worth and it can lead to Guild capture when done poorly.” Darius arched his brow as he turned to Eli. “You know who his father is?”

Eli swallowed then shook his head. “They never told me.” His voice was hoarse, shaken. “And, honestly, I never swallowed my pride long enough to ask.”

Darius turned to me, his hair disheveled, eyes feral. “And I’m guessing he didn’t give you any clear answers, or outline his family tree during this big reveal?”

I snorted. “Have you met Levi? Getting a straight answer out of him is about as common as spotting a unicorn on the side of the road.”

“Hellhounds exist,” Wade said with a shrug, “who’s to say unicorns don’t as well?”

“I’ve never seen one.” Darius paused for a moment, not bothering to hide his curiosity as he considered the possibility, “but I suppose after everything, we can’t exactly rule them out, can we?”

“Not the point.” Max shook her head, a reluctant grin tugging at her lips. “Levi’s part mystery demon. That explains how they’ve been able to get as much intel as they have here, why they’ve been willing to give us a chance—to trust us as much as they have.” She frowned, “but that also means?—”

“That we don’t know the limits of Levi’s strengths—or how much we can trust him not to use them against us if we become a threat,” Eli added, his face growing paler with each passing minute.

I shuddered at the thought of Levi erasing or muddling my memories.

But I didn’t miss the way that Atlas’s face softened, just a touch, like the idea of forgetting was laced with equal parts fear and hope.

7

MAX

My head hurt. I could feel and hear the blood rushing through my veins. It didn’t even feel like I was living inside of my body. My skin was tight, itchy, like I didn’t quite fit into it the way I usually did.

I knew why, knew that my secret was eating me alive. I needed to tell them the truth, but I had no idea where to start.

‘Hey guys, just so you know, I’m going to die,’ just seemed like a ridiculous thing to blurt out in the middle of the cabin’s living room.

But now that I knew my brain was randomly broadcasting announcements to them, the pressure was worse. The last thing I wanted was for them to find out that way.

“Fuck,” I muttered, pacing back and forth in the small bedroom Declan had been occupying.

I spent most of my nights with Atlas, not really talking much—or doing anything more physical than that—just lying together, soaking up the silence and the warmth of each other. He never directly said so, but I knew that my presence helped soften some of the fear and sadness still tormenting him.

I knew from my own experience that sometimes, when you were sinking, the quiet presence of someone close by helped open your chest, your throat, enough to pull in a desperately needed gulp of air. I’d be that for him for as long as it took.

He didn’t say much, but I didn’t push for much more than that either.

Being near him had been helpful for me too though, after all of the time we’d spent apart, the time we’d spent denying the connection between us. We both had fresh wounds that needed to heal.

But between nights with Atlas and my attempts at healing in the medical building, I didn’t have much alone time. I didn’t even have my own room, now that I thought about it. After Atlas returned, Rowan moved out of our cabin and in with Arnell and the rest of Ten. He spent most of his time running training camps and exercises. Even with him gone, the cabin was still cramped and short a room.

Which meant that when I wanted to escape for a few minutes, there was no space to decompress and get my shit together. No place that really felt like mine, anyway.

Maybe that was why I kept finding myself out by the lake in the middle of the night.

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