Page 9 of Shattered & Returned

“Sure, I’ll ask for a fucking doctor’s note,” Dante retorted.

Morrigan thrust a water bottle into my limp hands.“Drink. Slowly.”

Dante snatched it from her, his grip oddly careful now, eyes tracking me like I might shatter.“What the hell kind of condition is this?”He spat the word likeasthmawas a curse.

“Not a disease,”I croaked. My skull throbbed, my lungs still burned, but I made sure the venom in my voice seared worse.“Just faulty wiring. Makes me worthless to you. So let me go.”

Morrigan didn’t blink.“We can’t, Bloom.”She slid back into the driver’s seat, the van growling to life beneath her.“Next group that comes for you? You’ll beg to be back with us.”

The wheels rolled forward. My escape had failed. And if she was right—if there were worse monsters waiting—then this lot had just become the lesser evil.

The town couldn’t help me. No one could. This trio, or the next, would hunt me to the ends of the earth. Exhaustion dragged me under, but fractured voices seeped through the haze:

“She’s fragile. Frailer than?—”

“Shut it. You know the rules.”

“She won’t survive the trials.”

“She has to. Or we’re all fucked.”

“We were fucked the moment Nero got involved.” That came from Morrigan, and the bitterness in her voice made me blink twice.

“Biggest disaster…Doomed from the start.”

“Nero will lose it. He’ll swear the Moirai rigged the game.”

Who was Moirai? And who the fuck was this Nero again?

The trio’s discontent paled next to the storm he’d bring. Were they recruiting me as some kind of fighter?Good fucking luck.A near-laugh bubbled in my raw throat. Served him right for sending amateurs to snatch a half-dead asthmatic.

Unless…

A cold thought slithered in:Sacrificial virgin.My frailty might even fit the job description.

I shuddered, fully awake now.

Orren ripped off his mask and flung it aside.“Masks were a stupid idea.”

Dante copied him, scowling.“Didn’t expect her to be so breakable. Not exactly champion material.”

“She’s not breakable.”Orren stared hard at him.“She’s been alone too long.”

“And hopeless,” Morrigan muttered.

“Don’t write her off yet,”Orren pleaded.“Her instincts will kick in.”

“Aren’t you such a romantic?” Dante snorted.“You’ve always had a soft spot for her.”

Always?We’d met less than an hour ago.

The van suddenly halted. Two pairs of eyes locked onto me, unnervingly still. I held their gaze, cataloging details like my life depended on it, because it might.

Dante dominated the space, his muscular bulk crowding the seat. Golden braids snaked over shoulders, thick as branches, one side of his head shaved to reveal a tattooed spiral of blackflame. But it was his eyes that froze me: brown irises bleeding into crimson at the edges, like embers smoldering in a pit.

Orren stood shorter but stockier, his build a fortress of muscle. Close-cropped hair, skin the rich brown of oak bark—and those same impossible eyes, crimson circling the pupils like a beast’s glare caught in torchlight.

Morrigan’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. When she turned, the van’s dim light caught the red rings in her gaze.

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