Page 211 of Psycho Beasts

I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing.

Everything was a blur as Ascher pushed me forward up the stairs, and Jax reminded me to get dressed for the club.

They said we’d talk about it later, and I nodded like everything wasn’t crumbling around me.

My mind was elsewhere.

In the room, I told Aran what Cobra had said.

The truth. That the same cloaked man had forced all of us to get tested. Positioned all of us so we would meet in the training compound in the shifter realm.

I watched Aran pale and hunch lower, like if she made herself small enough, the truth couldn’t hurt her.

I barely remembered walking down the stairs, the men complimenting me on my outfit.

Barely noticed the rain soaking me on the way to the car.

Was barely cognizant of the neon skyscrapers and the way Cobra clenched my hand in the back seat.

How Jax looked at me with worry. Ascher smoothing his hands across my head. Xerxes giving me a soft kiss on the cheek.

The world was nebulous and indistinct.

In the future, I’d come to think of this day as the dividing line in my life.

The distinction between the before and the after.

The after characterized by a singular realization that changed the fundamental nature of existence.

It had been everywhere, in small signs we’d all become experts at avoiding.

Averting our eyes when it was right before our faces.

But there was no more running from the truth.

We were pawns.

And always had been.

Chapter 37

Sadie

THE BLACK RIBBON CLUB

Neon lights glowed high into the night as misty rain spattered around us.

Unlike what we’d seen after the first trial, this part of the city wasn’t dead at night.

It was alive.

Shifters crowded the sidewalks in small glittering clothes that revealed more skin than they covered.

Club signs flashed, and high-heel-clad legs waited in long lines.

The car stopped, and Xerxes pushed us through the crowds, leading us around the side of a purple skyscraper.

As we walked further down the narrow, dark alley, open faces were replaced with dark masks, boisterous laughter turning into whispers.

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