Page 55 of Bonds of Hate

Definitely trouble.

“So?” Logan asks.

Poe’s expression doesn’t change, but I swear his eye is twitching. “I need to know if either of you have noticed anything unusual about Cillian lately.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Define unusual.”

Poe stresses, “I just think it’s strange how off he seems lately. Disappearing for hours without checking in. Acting squirrelly when he is even around. I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”

“You might be,” I reply with a chuckle.

He actually isn’t, but admitting that won’t help anything.

“Think about it,” Poe presses. “The investigation into Ander was declared a murder when his body hasn’t even been discovered. The only way that happens is if someone had a reason to suspect foul play.”

No one will ever find Ander’s body. We made absolutely sure of that.

Logan’s jaw clenches. “You can’t seriously be suggesting?—“

“Who else knew about Ander?” Poe asks, cutting him off. “The four of us were the only ones there that night.”

The memory of blood-soaked marble flashes through my mind. Cillian had been eerily quiet as we cleaned, methodically erasing every trace while Logan raged. Come to think of it, his overall change in behavior can be traced to that night — withdrawn, distraction alternating with hyper-focus. Just different. He has only gotten worse since the Omega interviews and Maya’s arrival.

“This is ridiculous,” Logan snaps, but his voice lacks conviction. “Cillian has been by my side since we were children.”

“Which makes his recent behavior even more suspicious,” Poe points out.

I clear my throat. “Look, if Cillian wanted to betray Logan, he’s had plenty of chances over the years. No one in the palace has more access. Why would he wait until now to make a move?”

But even as I say it, doubt gnaws at me. The way Cillian’s been vanishing for hours. How he tenses up whenever someone mentions Maya. The careful distance he haskept from Logan lately, as far as he can get sometimes without entirely leaving the room.

“Exactly.” Logan bites out. “Fuck, Poe. I know paranoia is your favorite flavor, but this is ridiculous even for you.”

The obstinate look on Poe’s face doesn’t change. If anything, I already see the thoughts churning in his head. Poe is worse than a dog with a bone, because he has no problem digging six feet down to get at the rest of the skeleton.

And he’ll bury us all with him out of sheer damn stubbornness.

“Maybe we should—” I start, but Logan’s hand slams down on the table.

“Enough! I won’t hear another word about this.” He stands, chair scraping against hardwood. “Cillian is loyal. We need to be a united front for the Inquisitor or all of this is over. Anyone who says otherwise will have to eat through a straw until the inquiry is over because I broke their fucking jaw. End of discussion.”

Poe and I exchange glances as Logan storms to his bedroom, an entire conversation playing out between us over the course of about five seconds. That familiar feeling of unease returns. Pack bonds are supposed to be unbreakable, but lately everything feels like it’s balanced on a knife’s edge. One wrong move and it all comes crashing down.

Chapter Twelve

MAYA

Cold seeps into my bare skin, seeping so deep down into my bones that I’ll never be warm again. I don’t open my eyes because I already know what sight will greet me. Every day. Every moment. The same.

I’ve learned not to struggle against the straps weighing down my wrists. Struggling only makes the pain come sooner. It makes him angry.

Stress hormones skew the results, you stupid girl.

If I’m quiet long enough, I can postpone the inevitable for a bit. Time has become elastic. Meaningless. My awareness is made up only of moments with pain and moments without it, I’ve lost the ability to measure time any differently.

Metal clangs against metal.

My heart pounds in time with the click of approaching footsteps.

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