Page 63 of Shadebound
I thought about offering to go instead. To slip through the woods and take the risk myself. But it would look too suspicious. I was always the one partying on those nights, drinking too much, getting too loud. Running wild under the moonlight like some drunken lunatic—just like Maya said. If I suddenly decided to skip the fun and vanish into the dark, someone would notice. It was better to be a distraction and leave the three women to do it sneakily.
The bell sounded before we could finish our plans. A low, heavy clang that echoed through the stone walls. It made the back of my neck prickle.
Everyone tensed. Chairs scraped quickly, because we all knew that tardiness was a crime. Trays were left half-finished, and some students almost ran.
Jinx stood without a word. I followed. Maya fell into step beside us, mouth drawn tight. Eris trailed close behind, silent, digging in the pocket of her combats for something.
“By the way, just a heads up for this class,” Eris muttered. “It’s completely horrid, and you’ll hate it.”
Maya nodded. “Yeah, I agree. It’s my least favourite. I’d rather do physical activities every day.”
“What is it?” Jinx asked. “I never bothered to look at the schedule because I presumed it was going to be bland lessons except for the music ones.”
“Psychological Conditioning.” My voice was rough as I stared at her instead of feeling my emotions.
Emotions about the worst class on the schedule.
The halls tightened as we walked, like the walls were breathing. My stomach twisted itself into knots, but I forced my steps to stay slow and steady, refusing to let the tension show. Jinx’s arm brushed mine, and I glanced down and saw her wrist again. Somehow a paler grey and streaked with more crimson. A thin red line trailed toward her elbow, dripping even more than earlier. She didn’t wipe it. Didn’t even seem to notice. Just walked, calm as anything. Like she was already halfway out of her body.
I was starting to get concerned.
“They don’t test your strength in this one,” I told her, biting back the sudden rush of worry in my throat. “But they test everything else. They show you your worst memories. Force you to relive them. Over and over until you crack. They dig into the ugliest parts of your life—the moments that broke you, the things you’d do anything to forget. They try to make you come to terms with it. Or realise how weak you are. And then they expect you to fix it. To be better. Stronger. Even if it kills you.”
“Sounds like fun.” Her head tilted slightly. “What did they show you?”
“Something with my dad.” I bit the inside of my cheek.
She never asked what. But the fact she reached out to squeeze my hand told me that she already knew.
That night had never left me. It was etched into me, bone-deep. I’d gone for a run with some friends from my old pack—just an hour or two beneath the stars, breath misting, paws thudding against the dirt. When I came back, the world felt off. The porch light flickered in a strange rhythm, buzzing like it knew something I didn’t. The windows glared too dark. My gut twisted the second I’d opened my front door.
Then came the yelling—sharp, vicious. Not just angry but completely unhinged.
I could recall what it was like when I stepped inside. The smell hit me first: alcohol and fear. Then was the sounds of crying.Sobbing.
I remembered dropping my bag and rushing to the living room, knowing what I would find before I saw it.
My mother was crumpled on the floor, hands up in surrender. Her cheek already purpling, lip split, silver eyes wide with panic. My father stood above her, drunk and shaking, a bottle swinging loosely from his fist as if it were part of him.
He’d looked at me when I’d growled—no flicker of recognition. Justdisgust. As if I were nothing. As if I’d alwaysbeennothing.
He’d hit my mother again, and something in mesnapped.
I crossed the room without thinking. Launched myself at him. We crashed into the dresser, wood cracking, splinters flying into my skin.
I remembered hearing him cursing as I hit him again. And again. Hitting him with a lifetime’s worth of hatred festering in each swift fist.
My hands were red before I even registered the blood. His jaw crunched under my knuckles; teeth scattered over the floor.
I remembered how his ribs folded with a wet sound I still heard in nightmares, and how at one point he just stopped moving. I remembered my mother yelling at me, asking what I’d done. And screaming at me, that I’d killed her husband.
I remembered telling her I hated her just as much as him, as she continuously screamed and I walked out the door.
There was even more after that, but I forced the memories out of my head, concentrating on the present instead.
“They’ll try to break you in there,” I said to Jinx as we reached the foyer. “But it’s not real. It already happened. It can’t happen again.”
Jinx didn’t reply. She went so still it was like her soul had stepped out of her skin. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn she was already gone.
