Page 68 of The World Undone

The ambiguity of the future was like a heavy veil around us all. One we could all feel, but were reluctant to focus on for too long.

But Bishop carried more than his fair share. I could almost feel the stress wrapped around him like a weighted blanket. He was gruffer, more impatient than I’d remembered him being. He’d never been a particularly warm or affectionate person, but there was a darkness about him now, an exhaustion that I felt deep in my bones just from looking at him.

How much of that was because he had an entire community here counting on him, that he was trying to keep safe? A community that we were putting in more danger simply by the nature of us existing here amongst them.

And then there was Charlie.

Neither of them had officially said anything, but it had become more than obvious that she was pregnant—the tender glances they shared, the few times I’d spotted their hands lovingly pressed to her belly.

I was pretty sure they weren’t deliberately keeping it a secret—more that the pressure was high enough. I wondered if they wanted to wait, to speak the pregnancy into existence only after they were certain they were offering their child a future worth having.

“And,” Darius caught my eyes, like he was reading my mind, and raised his half-empty bottle up, “to Bishop.”

Bishop tensed slightly at his name in the vampire’s mouth.

I still didn’t fully understand the history between them, but it was clearly a loaded one. And, knowing Darius, he’d probably done quite a bit to earn that loathing Bishop seemed to reserve only for him. Still, it seemed like Bishop was warming up to him, however slowly. Darius had certainly proven himself more than once over the months.

I bit back a grin remembering how much I’d hated him for the first few weeks.

He had a habit of growing on people.

Like a fungus.

Darius’s teasing expression turned unexpectedly earnest. “You, Charlie, and the others didn’t have to offer us a place here, but we’re grateful that you did. And we’re grateful to the community here for taking in so many of us lab rats.”

He took a heavy swig and we all followed suit.

“Can’t believe you were really locked down there all these years.” Bishop’s jaw muscles shifted as he clenched and unclenched his teeth, mulling something unspoken between them. After a long, stretched moment, he met Darius’s eyes and took a drink, before adding with a smug grin, “pretty sure Charlie would’ve sent me packing with you all if I’d refused, but we’re glad to have you all the same. You’ve pulled your weight here, and I know that the six of you are the key to giving us the highest odds of winning this war—whatever may come of it, and whatever shape winning will take exactly.”

We settled into a comfortable silence, finishing the beers, and enjoying one of the few peaceful moments we’d had together—maybe the only such moment since the Bentleys had come into our life, if I was being honest.

Max conjured a ball of fire, stared at it wistfully as it grew and then shrank again, like her own built-in fidget spinner.

After a moment, she’d worked up whatever courage she needed, before she turned to Bishop. “Do you know much about Greta’s family?”

He frowned at the question, caught off guard, then shook his head. “You know, it’s awful, but I really don’t know almost anything about her, about her past, her family.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Gods, that’s terrible, isn’t it? How had I never thought to ask?”

The last part was said more to himself.

“I don’t know anything about her past either,” I confessed, the shame of the admission sinking low in my gut. I’d taken her for granted. I’d taken so many people for granted. So many histories I’d never hear, just because I’d never done the work to ask for them.

Mirrored grunts and averted looks suggested the same was true for all of us.

Greta had been an enigma. Protectors usually kept to their teams, their colleagues, their families—but Greta was more of a lone wolf. Who did she confide in? Did she have a person to turn to on the particularly dark nights? Or did she carry that weight all on her own?

Max sighed, draining the last few drops of her drink before balancing the empty bottle on her knee. “When I spoke to Evelyn—” she grunted, “gods, was that only yesterday? Feels like it was a week ago, she mentioned that Greta wasn’t from The Guild line of protectors. That she might be connected to my family, or at least know something about them. With everything going on, I didn’t have the chance to ask. Or, if I did, I didn’t take it.” She shook her head, wincing. “Fuck, and how awful am I for regretting that now, in light of everything? It seems so small compared to her loss.”

The small ball of fire in Max’s hand disappeared, reappearing in Atlas’s palm instead. The added light danced across his features as he watched her. “You can be sad that she’s gone and also sad that a well of information about your family has dried up, Bentley. Both things can be true at once.”

Max studied him for a moment, swallowed, and nodded. I could tell that he said something else through the bond link, something that eased some of the bunching between her shoulders.

For a few minutes, we lazily passed the hellfire around, pulling it from whoever had it, through Max, and back again.

Childlike wonder and excitement lit Bishop’s face when he watched Atlas conjure fire. Their eyes met briefly and Atlas grinned back at his cousin. For a moment, it was as if all of the shit we’d been through had fallen away. It was a brief moment, but it felt infinite, important.

Under all of the bullshit, we were still us. We’d find our way back to the core of that.

The Guild had ruined so many lives. Robbed so many of us. And now, their greed—dating back to hell’s creation—could doom us all.

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