Page 13 of Chaos Carnival

The crystal skull's surface rippled, painting dancing umbra across the peeling wallpaper. “Well,” Oscar's voice held that particular theatrical tone I'd come to associate with his most biting observations. “If we're going to discuss the systematic destruction of supernatural safe havens, perhaps I should remind everyone of a rather pertinent historical parallel. The burning of the Library of Alexandria. Though in this case, our modern hunters seem to possess considerably more efficiency than those ancient barbarians. At least the Library had the courtesy to smolder for days.”

“Not helping, Oscar,” I muttered, pulling off Maverick's cock and parting from his embrace. The emptiness and need I felt at the loss doubled my guilt, and I hoped no one noticed me blush. Maverick must have sensed the shift in my mood and attempted to pull me closer again. But I twisted out of his hold, careful not to break skin contact, and turned to face him, my expression conveying the gravity of the situation. Shit was too serious for his games right now. He smiled, a knowing glint in his eye, but gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“My dear, I rarely intend to help,” Oscar added. “I aim to illuminate. And right now, I'm illuminating the fact that we're witnessing the supernatural equivalent of Rome's fall. Though I must say, the hunters have managed to skip the tedious decades of political decay and jumped straight to the sacking.”

“Fifteen more minutes,” he whispered with a tender kiss to my forehead as his arms tightened around my waist.

The skull's eye sockets flickered with an eerie blue light. “But then again, who am I to judge? I'm merely a disembodied consciousness trapped in a crystal skull, watching history repeat itself with notably less style than the first time around. At least the Romans had the decency to wear proper togas while they burned everything down.”

I swallowed, the taste of ash lingering on my tongue. “Great,” I managed to get out, my voice scratchy and raw. Maverick traced shapes on my thighs, drawing out goosebumps all over my skin. His tender touch felt almost sacred in the discordantly intimate but public moment.

Cross shook his head, his eyes dark and serious. “That's not even the half of it. They've captured sixteen seraphim so far and taken them back. Some put up a fight, but it was no use. The hunters are relentless—just like Zara's sources warned us they'd be when Brok took over as Guard General. He's turned them into something entirely new.”

My stomach balled into a knot as I imagined what those poor seraphim were facing. Being dragged back to Ivan was a fate worse than death. Hell had to be worse.

Stone's fist crashed into the wall, and we all turned to see what he’d done. The cheap plaster crumbled, leaving a crater. He was red, veins popping out of his neck. “I didn't know there were that many seraphim here. Do we know them?”

“Marcus. Elena. The twins from Barcelona.” Cross's voice cracked. “And Rex.”

“Fuck.” Lux leaned against the window sill.

“How?” I asked. “How are they taking them down?”

“New weapons. New alchemy.” Cross shook his head. “Whatever they're using, it's not from our playbook. They've evolved. Brok's made good on his promise to crack down harder than Alpin ever did. These hunters aren't just following orders—they're on a crusade.”

“Once we have Addie, we need to keep moving.” Stone pulled his fist from the wall, flexing bloody knuckles.

“And go where?” Zara challenged. “They've infested every state from here to California.”

“Why are they always after you?” I asked, looking at Lux and Stone across from me.

Lux glanced at Maverick. Maverick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It's not a pretty tale.”

“Few of ours are,” Stone added grimly.

Zara perched on the couch. “Go on,” she encouraged.

Maverick sighed and gathered himself first. “The Seraphim Sector,” he began, his golden eyes darkening with old pain, “isn't the heavenly realm humans imagine. It's oppression masked by beauty. We were born into it, groomed to serve the system.”

“But we saw the corruption,” Lux added. “We tried to fight it from within for a long time. That’s how we met. When we discovered our own families were involved in the conspiracy...” He trailed off, jaw tight.

“We chose freedom,” Maverick finished. “Spent centuries in the demon sector first. Complete anarchy there—too much even for me.” His attempt at humor fell flat.

“And the seraphim guard?” I asked.

“They were created to hunt rogues like us,” Stone said flatly. “Make examples of us.”

“Ah, supernatural fascists,” Oscar chimed in. “Dreadfully efficient ones at that. I must say, my trials for 'gross indecency' pale in comparison.”

“And now they're getting bolder,” Zara mused, her fae features sharp with concern. “Pushing further into the mortal realm than ever before.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as we all absorbed this information. The depth of their experiences, the centuries of running and fighting and adapting, suddenly hit me full force.

“Impressive or not,” Cross interjected, his voice bringing us back to the gravity of the situation, “we're dealing with more than just Ivan's circus. The seraphim guard's increased activity could complicate things significantly.”

A sharp pain lanced through my temples. I pressed my fingers against my forehead, trying to massage away the growing headache.

Lux stepped closer, his expression grim. “The mate bond. It could be Maverick's poison spreading to you.”

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