Page 33 of The Brotherhood

He quickened his pace, ready to find that out.

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Sinrik stepped inside, his mind still turning over the Velkratos Order’s findings. Something was hiding inside chaos. A method within madness. A signature.

His thoughts barely had time to settle before he saw her, curled in one of the chairs near the bed, reading. He paused at seeing theEver-Fallenhandbook open in her lap. The dim lightof the lamp sharpened the lines of her face, making the tension in her expression stark.

She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in whatever part of his doctrine had demanded her attention. His eyes tracked the subtle movements—her fingers pressing against the paper, the occasional crease in her brow.

Something about it unsettled him. She was studying him. Not in the way a woman studies a man. Or in the way a prisoner studies her captor. She was examining his mind, his philosophy. And for the first time in a long time, Sinrik found himself wondering what she saw.

He shut the door and her head lifted.

Their gazes met and that pull between them tightened.

A flicker of something. A shift beneath the surface. A near imperceptible force pushing and pulling. A tug-of-war.

Sinrik stepped forward, keeping his voice low. “Still awake.”

Her fingers tensed on the booklet, posture shifting slightly. “I couldn’t sleep.”

His gaze flicked down at the manual. “And?”

Beth hesitated, then pressed her palm over the cover, as if weighing her words. “It’s… not what I expected.”

Sinrik watched her carefully. “No?”

She exhaled, glancing at the text again. “I thought it would be more… crazy.”

A smirk edged at the corner of his mouth. “And yet?”

She turned a page, her fingers tracing over the rules outlined there. “It’s strict. Not just in the laws themselves but in the expectations of people.”

He made his way to the kitchen. “Chaos doesn’t have to be anarchy.”

He glanced at her from the fridge, finding her brows knitted together, face aimed at him. “You destroyed everything.The government. The economy. The infrastructure. How is that not anarchy?”

Sinrik regarded the contents of the fridge and pulled out an orange juice. “I merely unshackled it.” He strode to the couch and sat, eyeing her.

“Unshackled it how?”

He downed half the bottle then replaced the cap on it, twisting once. “It was not our world, it was a rigged system built to serve a corrupt few. It had to fall.” He kept his voice even. “I brought equilibrium.”

She stared at him, searching his face. “And now you’re bringing, what? A better way?”

Sinrik exhaled slowly, propping his ankle on his knee. “I’m bringing the only way. Then I’m guarding it.” Her focus sharpened on him. “I don’t pretend that what rises from the ashes will be perfect,” he said. “But I’ll be damned if I let it become the same disease I burned out of existence.”

Beth’s grip tightened on the handbook, and she regarded the page before her again. “Maybe the worldwascorrupt. And… maybe it even deserved to fall.” The comingbutimpregnated the air. Her curiosity burned on him. “What if this leads to something worse?”

A slow, quiet exhale left him. “Because I recognize the difference between necessary destruction and reckless ruin.” Sinrik studied her. “What are you afraid of, Beth?”

She considered that a long moment. “I guess that you’re wrong?”

Silence stretched between them, tight and heavy.

“And what if I’m not?”

Beth opened her mouth, but no answer came.

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