Page 63 of Chaos Carnival

But the webs showed me everything—past, present, future all tangled together like Christmas lights made of barbed wire. Three steps left—he hasn't taken them yet, but he will, he will… he will—so I glided right, around a cabinet that smelled like old dreams and fresh graves. He would look behind those boxes next—hasn't yet but soon so soon—so I circled wide, keeping a shrouded mirror between us that reflected things that hadn't happened yet.

Then the universe hiccupped.

A ripple in the pattern. The strands screamed a warning that tasted like shattered glass, but too late—Ivan's hand closed around my arm, yanking me back against his massive chest. My heart stuttered, then slammed against my ribs so hard I thought they might crack. This wasn't possible. The filaments said left, he was supposed to go left, but he went right instead, tearing through the fabric of what should be. My mouth went desert dry as ice spread through my veins. How did he—

“Got you,” he growled in my ear, his breath hot on my skin like hellfire. My legs turned to water, muscle memory of a thousand threats making me small again, making me his again. The wraithshade's energy writhed around us, making the threads writhe and twist in distress, their song turning to screams that only I could hear.

He dragged me toward another tent, and heat bloomed outward from my core, spreading like wildfire through my limbs. My fingers curled into claws at my sides.

After everything I'd become, everything I'd survived...

The webs were back now, dancing with malevolent glee as they showed me everything that was coming. The cage with its cruel bars singing songs of captivity, each note tasting like screams and rusted metal. My teeth ground together as I saw his rough hands on my skin, making me scream while he fed on my fear like a gourmand at a feast. I could taste my own tears, salt and copper and terror, though they hadn't fallen yet—but oh, how they would flow, flow, flow like silver rivers in moonlight.

“No no no,” I lilted, watching the future unfold like origami shadows made of razor blades. Something wild and dark unfurled inside me, a madness born of the threads themselves. “The ravens won't like this. The webs don't want this. You're not supposed to have this place, it's not for you, it's for them, my dazzling damaged angels who drink darkness like wine...”

But he just laughed, the sound as dark as caverns, as ancient as buried sins, as he carried me toward my cage-that-would-be. The threads showed me exactly how much it would hurt, painting masterpieces of agony in colors that shouldn't exist.

“You saw what I would do, didn't you?” Ivan's voice dripped with amusement as he shoved me toward the cage, each word leaving stains on my skin. “But you couldn't see what I didn't plan. When I just... reacted.” The wraithshade's hunger purred around his words like a satisfied predator.

I kept my eyes focused on the filaments dancing in the air, refusing to look at him. They showed me what came next—the pain, the fear, the helplessness. All written in strands of ink and blood, a story told in bruises and broken screams.

And wasn't it beautiful, in its monstrous way?

He laughed, the sound making the threads twist and writhe like dying snakes. “Still so predictable, Tess. Always thinking you're more clever than you are.” The cage door creaked open with the sound of condemned souls. “Always thinking you can outsmart me.”

His hands were rough as he pushed me inside, leaving fingerprints of obsidian and malice on my skin. The bars sang with cruel alchemy, making my jaws ache and my bones vibrate with the wrong frequencies. The streams showed me how they would burn when I touched them, how they would drain me until I was empty, hollow, a perfect vessel for fear.

“I have a few matters to attend to,” Ivan said, locking the door with a sound like breaking bones and shattered promises. “Then we can get... reacquainted. It's been too long.”

The wraithshade's hunger crowded my skin like a lover's poisoned kiss as he turned away, leaving me alone with the webs and their whispers of what was to come, each prophecy more deliciously horrific than the last.

The chords showed me how it would end. And how it would begin. I wrapped my fingers around the cold bars, watching the threads weave stories of blood and transformation through the air like spider silk made of screams. This place would become a temple of screams and shadows, a cathedral built from busted dreams and harvested fears. The lines showed me everything. Blood would christen these grounds, would feed the hungry earth beneath the tents until it grew fat on suffering.

A sound caught in my throat, half sob and half mad joy, tasting of copper and summer dreams. It was never meant to be like this. Me in a cage, him thinking he had won. Him in a cage—me thinking we had won. It was always meant to be, but it was exactly as it should be. The strands had known all along, had woven this moment from the fabric of fate itself.

Ivan didn't understand. I was already broken, shattered and remade by magic older than fear itself. My madness was my armor now, my fractured mind a kaleidoscope of harrowing possibilities. It was inevitable, written in the ribbons like poetry made of nightmares.

Chapter 30: Unimaginable Revelations

Maverick

Ienteredtheapartmentbalancing our breakfast spread like some kind of demonic waiter, trying not to spill the steaming coffee that was making my mouth water. The bagels were still warm from the shop down the street. I'd gotten there and back in record time just to make sure they stayed that way. A generous helping of cream cheese, some fresh strawberries and bananas I'd picked up on a whim, and two massive cups of coffee that could wake the dead.

The moment I arrived, wrongness sliced through me like a blessed blade. The air felt dead, stagnant. Missing the electric current of her presence that usually made my skin hum. Mychest ached with a familiar coldness, the mate bond stretched gossamer-thin. Like a rubber band about to snap.

“Tess?” My voice shattered the silence, a desperate edge barely contained. No answer. Of course no fucking answer.

I tore through the bedroom, ripping open the walk-in closet door hard enough to leave marks in the wood. Her clothes hung untouched—that leather jacket she loved still on its hanger, carrying her scent like a taunt. My fingers brushed the sleeve, and possessive fury surged through me. She should be here, wearing it, safe under my watch where she belonged. But I’d left her alone.

Stupid. Careless. Unforgivable.

The bathroom held only empty silence. Her toothbrush dry, the shower cold. No lingering steam, no trace of her vanilla shampoo in the air. Nothing to feed the addiction I'd developed to her presence.

I searched every room, though the icy ache in my chest already told me what I'd find. She wasn't here. She'd slipped away while I was playing house, trying to smooth ruffled feathers instead of guarding what mattered.

Lilith lounged on the couch, flipping through a magazine with unaffected nonchalance that made my temperature rise. The demon's presence had always set me on edge, but now, with Tess missing, every instinct screamed to eliminate the threat.

“Where is she?” The words came out more growl than speech.

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