Page 67 of Villainous Fate

His left shoulder must have taken the brunt of his fall.

A throat clears behind me, and Finn hands me the sweatpants he had hanging around his waist. Grabbing them, I see Amira huddled into the rock wall with a sweatshirt covering her.

At least she didn’t see anything.

I toss the pants at Marcus, so he can cover himself before we have to move. His movements putting them on are slow, but once he’s dressed he stands and signals for Finn to return his bag.

“I got it, Stone. You don’t need the extra weight until you can rest,” Finn answers the gesture, shaking his hand.

“She okay?” Marcus asks, his chin indicating who he is referring to.

“Yeah. She made the rest of the descent herself since I couldn’t carry her and two bags. She’s tough.” Finn replies.

Guilt hits me as I realize I left him up there with not only double the supplies but a frail human to safeguard.

I needed to know Marcus was alive.

It was more important in that moment than finishing the trial.

We all made it. That’s what matters.

“I’ll carry Amira. We need to move. Saint’s team will be close by now.” I say, before turning back to look at Marcus. “Can you make the last half mile?”

I see the doubt flash momentarily across his features before he masks it and nods. These are the moments I hate the politics of our kind. The moments I hate playing the game. The moments that drive me to get Grace out of this world.

When I reach for Amira, she’s shivering. Her lack of body fat doesn’t help in any way to stave off the chill of the early morning. I scoop my arms underneath her, lifting her light weight easily, and tuck her into my chest, hoping to warm her as we move.

Finn takes the lead this time, with Marcus and I following. Our movements are slow, accounting for Stone’s injuries and the added weight both Finn and I possess. The half mile takes us less than ten minutes to complete, and we reach the makeshift event space without issue.

The outdoor arena is two stories tall with an entry point at one end of its oval shape. Two guards lean against the structure, their tired expressions show how long they’ve been stationed here.

Our movement pulls their attention, and they straighten, looking at each other before fixing their eyes on us.

Well, now everyone knows we’re here.

We pass by them without being stopped and step through to the arena's ground floor, complete with the stage I had seen from above. A few people are making last-minute adjustments, but no one occupies the sections, and no retreat leadership is present at this hour.

They will be.

Twelve chairs sit at the base of the stage, which I assume will be for us, so I wander over, dropping my bag to the floor and collapsing into one, my eyes closing and my head falling back.

After twenty-four hours without sleep and the adrenaline rush of Marcus’s fall, I’m spent. I need the other teams to arrive so that I can sleep. I’m impatient on a good day, but without rest? I have a hair-trigger temper.

Grace jokes that I should have been a bear shifter because of how grumpy I am without sleep.

She isn’t wrong.

Thinking of her now, a smile lifts the corners of my face.

I did it, Tails. I won. We won.

This means I’m one step and one day closer to returning to her—my home.

I feel Marcus take the seat next to me, groaning as he adjusts to find a way that doesn’t press on his bruises. The forty-plus foot fall did a number on him, and it would be days before he returned to normal. We heal fast, but that didn’t mean the pain wasn’t just as deep.

“You gonna make it?” I ask, not opening my eyes and not hearing Finn or Amira sit in the remaining chair.

“Jury’s still out on that one,” he answers, a bit of humor in his tone that relaxes me.

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