Page 179 of The Order

I feel the embrace of that other side of me, Its arms around me in a comforting grasp.

“Honey-” he gasps.

“My name is Forest Blackburn,” I say, my eyes snapping to the ones so similar to my father’s. “Remember the name of the woman who took your last breath from you,” I whisper, clutching the man's throat with all the energy I have.

I watch him grab my wrist, doing his best to pry away the hand I have around his throat. Feeling his windpipe closing, his stifled pleas reach my ears. My eyes glance down to the metal of my gear. The reflection of what lies in front of me paints nothing but the true picture.

Where I see my father, the metal sees the creature, its eyes frantic, praying for mercy.

“You're running from an evil that will always find you,” It hisses, my father's face slowly slipping away.

“I don't have to run,” I seethe, leaning in closer. “It's looking back at me in your dying eyes.” I smile, a new feeling coming over me, something entirely foreign.

The strength from my other side courses through me, Its life force supporting my own.

Slumping to the ground, the Shifter’s form returns, its body disintegrating into the ash.

Glancing at the final Shifter, I move closer to the group, reaching down to grab the blade. It patiently waits to meet my hand once more. I shove a few of the younger contestants behind me. I twirl the weapon, watching the Shifter drop a woman once as it becomes aware of my presence.

“So, you're the woman he-”

My blade collides with its mouth, skewering its head to the nearest concrete wall behind it. I drive the weapon deeper into its skull, my energy a forest fire I can hardly contain. Letting go of the hilt, I take a step back. Seven bodies litter the ground of the twenty of us here. Three of them were lifeless Shifters.

Looking up at the glass, I see the gaping mouths of all that watch. I raise my hands, ready to take this place down; the others down here with me shake in fear.

“Make them afraid, beautiful, and the world is yours to take,”Xavier whispers, his grin wide.

A deafening noise breaks out in the arena, my knees meet my chest as I hunch over, unable to stop myself from covering my ears. I yell loudly, feeling a great sense of fear at the realization my companions no longer overlook the pit. Doing my best to navigate the space, I see the flood of figures as Officials step back into the pit, collaring every person they can, looming closer to me with each passing minute.

Getting to my feet, I ready myself to take on as many of them as possible.

“That won't be necessary,” Xavier whispers in my ear, his arm wrapping around my front, his presence next to me instant. Hadn’t he just been at the top of the pit behind the glass? “You’re mine for now.”

The sound of the collar snapping around my neck fills my ears.

My energy reserves are instantly depleted, but I try and use what I can to get away.

“As much as I like you putting up a fight,” he says, a sharp needle meeting my neck. “It would seem our presence is needed elsewhere.”

Chapter fifty-seven

Forest

“Doyouplanonforcing your insufferable presence on me all night?” I question hatefully, looking at the sprawl of dresses on the table, each more revealing than the next.

“You have to choose one if you're going to be anywhere near the people that you saw earlier behind the glass,” he mutters, his arms crossed, his body leaning into the table. We are back in the room where the Teller prepped me. Xavier decided to take a personal interest in helping me get ready so he can proudly show me off to everyone who decided to bid against me. As long as I’m here, the punishments will keep coming.

That realization, along with the combined presence of Xavier and the collar, is more than enough to drain my grasp on the abilities I have.

“Let me know they're safe, then I’ll pick one of these fucking horrid dresses,” I say, my hands clenching the soft materials that lies in front of me.

Xavier grabs my chin, my head forced up to look at his face.

“I'm not in the mood to be making deals with you right now,” he begins, looking down at the dresses. “Any of these will do, although green is your color," he whispers, grabbing the dress on the far side of the table. It's a dark, vibrant, sage green.

“What am I even doing? I won. I figured your desire to watch me suffer had been satisfied,” I whisper, grabbing the dress of his choosing.

“Not that you need a reminder, but you killing your father was not my doing. I’m hurt you thought it was me,” he says, feigning distress. My fist rises, ready to clobber him in his smug face. He grabs my wrist, forcing it down and onto the table. My back meets the wood surface.

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