Page 14 of Obliterated
The thing is, she’s not entirely wrong. Roe knows exactly what I am. Knows I’ve got the Pit carved into my bones, that I go looking for the fight instead of waiting for it because Ineedit. But that’s also the reason why he asked us to keep our eyes on this place. Roe expects that Joyeus has something to do with the unregistered people. And if she slips up, he wants us here to see it. If she throws us in the Pit? We’re most likely to survive.
So yeah, technically we’re taking out Joyeus. Doesn’t change the fact that I also keep coming back because of him.
“He’s also looking at you, you know,” Tass says, sing-song and cruel. “All the damn time.”
My head jerks before I can stop it, and sure enough—there he is, behind the counter, frozen with an empty glass in his hand. Our eyes lock, and he swallows hard, blinking too many times before shoving the glass onto a stack that doesn’t need stacking and breaking the contact, cheeks flushed.
I lean back in the booth, jaw tight. Godsdamn it. Tass is right, and it’s not the first time I caught him looking at me.
I can’t have that.
It’s one thing formeto check up onhim, to make sure the mistake I made by the docks won’t blow back on me, won’t spiral into something I can’t justify. That I can file under Watcher business. Call it procedure. Call it leverage. I don’t do remorse; I do results. I don’t babysit; I tie off loose ends.
But him looking at me like that? Not with fear. Not with worship like the rest. With that fucking curiosity that crawls under my skin…
Like he’s askingwhy.
Why did you lie for me? Why didn’t you send me back? Why me? What do you want from me?
I don’t have an answer I’m willing to say out loud.
I should let this go. Let him go. I checked. He’s fine. I have other things to focus on.
I shake my head hard, drag my focus back to Tass. Don’t miss the way her smug grin widens. I damn near snarl at her before pushing off the booth, collecting my cleaver and whetstone.
“We’re going?” she asks in a lazy drawl.
“Yes,” I grumble, flicking one last look at the bar where Kieran has thankfully turned his back, talking to another bartender. “Since you mentioned new partners… We’ve got a new recruit tagging along with us tomorrow on patrol.”
Tass groans loud enough to turn heads before she gets up and follows me. Eyes trail us too, like they always do. Some with awe, some with fear, all of them waiting for me to snap, praying for a little blood to spice up their dull fucking lives.
“Yay. A newbie,” she mutters. “Well, at least we’re definitely off dock duty. Two weeks was long enough of a punishment.”
I shove the door open, the night air damp and finally cool against my face. “Roe’s idea of punishment was keeping me caged on the docks where people could gawk at me. He enjoys that shit way too much.”
She bumps my shoulder as we step into the street toward the beach, making our way back to our building to crash for a few hours. “Maybe he’s finally realized throwing you at Walkers isn’t theonlything that burns the crazy out.”
I huff a laugh, low and sharp. “Then this poor fucker tomorrow is in for a treat. If Roe thinks sticking a green kid with us is smart. I’ll bleed the itch out on them instead.”
Tass groans loud, throwing her head back as we walk. “Gods, Max. You’ll traumatize the poor thing before they even learn which end of a blade to hold.”
I smirk, teeth flashing in the lamplight. “Better they learn fear early. Might keep them alive.”
“Or they’ll piss themselves and quit. Then we’re stuck breaking in the next one Roe throws our way.”
“Then I’ll bleed the itch out twice.”
She barks a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
We fall into step, boots crunching over grit and broken shells as the salt wind cuts sharp through the street. At the end we turn left, over the boulevard. But on our right the wall looms, stretching all the way to the water, dark stone cutting against the night sky. Tass lifts a hand, hollering up at a pair of Watchers on the wall. They wave back, casual, used to her antics.
I don’t look at them. Just keep on going. I need sleep. A dead stretch of hours where my brain shuts the fuck off. No thinking about whatever Joyeus is scheming. No checking on Kieran. No sun-gold hair, no ocean-blue eyes. Definitely not acknowledging the itch that again is growing under my skin, the one that only blood quiets.
Not having patrols outside the wall is grating at me. Being kept in here feels like a leash pulling tighter every day. I need the night. The dark. The dead.
Tomorrow we’ve got a fresh recruit to break in, and that’s where my focus has to be. Task ahead. Blade steady. Nothing else.
Chapter four
