Page 89 of Deadly Rival

“Are you fucking serious?” My fists clench. Punching Jacob would come in a strong second on the list of stupidest things I've ever done, but it’s taking everything I have to hold myself back. “She’s not going to go through with it. I’m going to fucking die today, and you’re worried about—”

I take a few paces away, breathing hard, and try to rein myself in. I’m not going to crumble. What happens today is already set, and there’s nothing I or anyone else can do about it. The guys give me a minute, then appear on either side of me. I’m braced for Jacob to tell me what a dickhead I’m being, but it’s Gabriel who speaks.

“Eve thinks Ophelia’s falling for you. They haven’t known each other long, but she’s got good instincts about this sort of thing. She called it with Quinn, and she was right.”

Jacob adds, “And you’re going to look like a proper dick if she does go through with it and you’ve no tattoo to stick on her. Let’s focus on that for now.”

Right. Good advice. Don’t prisoners on death row spend their time doing crosswords and stuff like that? No need to focus on my upcoming head removal. “How did you come up with yours?”

Gabriel shrugs. “It was easy for me. She loved the playing cards I sent her, and it just fit.”

Of course it was easy for the Compound’s happiest couple. I’m surprised a songbird didn’t whisper the idea into his ear. I turn to Jacob. “And you? Please tell me you struggled.”

“You’re fucking right I did. I had a tattoo all designed for Suzy, a bird in a cage but with the door open. It never fit Quinn, though. You know? I have to give her a firm hand, not coddling. The stamp is perfect. She needs reminding who’s boss.”

I smile at his very accurate assessment of Quinn, but I’m snagged on the tattoo he described. I can picture it. A beautiful blue songbird, caged but free at the same time. An elegant design, and if by some miracle we get to that stage, it would embody Ophelia’s choice to perfection.

I lock eyes with Jacob, who blinks at my no doubt slightly unhinged one-eyed stare. “What?”

“How pissed would you be if I steal your idea?”

He frowns. “The stamp? I wouldn’t care, but Quinn might. Matching tattoos with a friend would be a bit weird.”

“No. The cage.”

His face clears. “Oh. I wouldn’t give two shits about that. Take it if you want.”

Something in me relaxes. It might be the only good decision I’ve made this week, but it feels right.

I spend an hour with the tattooist, who draws up a beautiful design. By the time I venture into the auditorium’s main hall, it’s half full. I have a reserved space at the front, where I can watch Jacob’s ceremony before taking the stage for my own. I’m glad he’s going first. Nothing ruins a special moment like knowing your friend is getting decapitated.

Gabriel is already seated in the front row. As soon as I appear, whispers start, and even though I can’t make them out, the tone is clear. It’s rare for Brothers to fail the ceremony, but it happens. Right before I joined, Gabriel witnessed someone fail. Today,people think it’s a possibility, and weird energy zings through the air. Not bloodlust, exactly. More blood-expectation.

Before I can set out toward my seat, Kendrick materializes from somewhere. I swear the man is a fucking vampire. He claps me on the shoulder—affectionate, for him. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, sir.”

It’s a glib remark, but Kendrick nods solemnly. He takes a minute before he speaks. The room has fallen silent, and I’m sure every single ear is pricked up, trained on our conversation. “You’ve made some foolish decisions, but you’re an asset to the next generation of Brothers. I hope today goes in your favor.”

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I settle for “Me, too.”

He sighs and disappears backstage. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of my chances.

I take my seat beside Gabriel, and we sit in tense silence as the hall fills. Every Brother, besides those too sick to attend, is here. Their Wards as well. Too soon, the lights dim, and Kendrick takes the stage.

“Welcome, all. It’s wonderful to see you gathered here for our most sacred of occasions. In 1632—”

Kendrick’s history lesson quickly loses my attention, and I nudge Gabriel as he drones on. “Hey. At your ceremony, Jacob and I didn’t look at Eve. It felt wrong. Should we do the same for Quinn?”

Gabriel snorts. “She’s spent the last three months telling everyone how few fucks she gives about being naked. At this point, I think she’ll be offended if we don’t watch.”

He’s got a point. Kendrick finally wraps up his boring introduction, and Jacob takes the stage. The big guy plays it cool, but his movements are jerkier than usual as he sits on the huge,elaborately carved chair in the center of the stage. His face is red, too. He’s stressed.

Kendrick rattles off a brief introduction, then the ceremony kicks off in earnest when Quinn makes her appearance. Even she looks nervous, glancing at the crowd, then settling her eyes on Jacob.

It feels wrong, for a second, seeing her skinny body stripped bare, but my brain soon dismisses it and stops seeing it as weird. My eyes are more drawn to Jacob and the fierce pride on his face. I have no doubt Jacob would slaughter every single human in this building, myself included, for the girl kneeling at his feet. He’d throw himself under a bus for her.

Just like I have for Ophelia.

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