Page 80 of Scarlet Wars
Thenthey killed my parents—which wasn’t rude so much as it was firmly in the realm of capital-letter Evil, with a side of “congratulations, you’ve just guaranteed your own execution.”
ThenI got abducted and tossed into a cellar. Didn’t even get the courtesy of a dungeon.
Thenthe United Chiefs decided to spice things up by threatening everyone I loved if I didn’t marry my ex. Great timing, considering I’d been drooling over someone else like a shameless harlot with zero self-control.
Thenhumans stormed into the Magi World like they were cosplaying as the FBI and tried to arrest me.
My head felt like it was about toexplode. Which, honestly, would be on-brand at this point.
Those were my spiraling thoughts while Rachel continued her meeting in the War Room. “The United Chiefs nexed me earlier today to ask how far we’ve gotten to find the idiot magus who helped humans impose the bubble.”
“Are we any closer to finding the location where they imbue the bubble with more translation?” Rachel asked, tapping her pen against her notebook like she was about to crack a code only she cared about.
I wanted to care about her mission.
Only problem? I didn’t. At all.
We all knew the Collabs were behind the bubble. Nobody knew where they were operating from, nobody knew who their leader was, and honestly, I had enough on my plate without addingtrack down mystery terroriststo my to-do list.
Like, hello? Work–life balance?
Rachel plowed on without noticing my blank stare. “I had Hillary check the edge of the bubble, see if she could figure out anything about its translation pattern. She thinks whoever bubbled the entire country must be at least ten cycles old.”
That snagged my attention. “Ten cycles? I thought most magi gave up life after three or four?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Whoever they are…they’re old. Old and powerful.”
I glanced quickly at Caden, then James. They both had the same thought written all over their faces: the Elder was dead. Right?
When no one had anything left to add, Rachel wrapped up the meeting by…scheduling yet another team meeting later that week.
When I’d agreed to “play soldier” for her, I hadn’t realized it came with mandatory death by PowerPoint.
After the meeting, we ended up crowded into the kitchen of Arbor Hall, shoveling down whatever vaguely edible food we weren’t too tired to translate.
Rachel was perched close to Caden, her smile lingering a little too long as the two of them carried on a conversation the rest of us weren’t invited to.
Not conversing. Flirting was more like it.
Conversing implied there was no ulterior motive, only a casual exchange of words. But the way she angled her body, the way she tilted her head enough to make her neck look longer, the way she subtly toyed with her hair like she was in a godsdamn shampoo commercial? Yeah, that shit wasflirting.
Not that I didn’t get it. She was talking to a man who looked like he’d just stepped out of anEnemies-to-Lovers: Mafia Editionromance novel. Dark, intense, and way too aware of the effect he had on people.
Everyone else was still in their Offensive gear, fresh from the border after battle.
But not Mr. Colt. No,he’d somehow found the time to shower, throw on black slacks and a white shirt—collar open, naturally—like he came straight from a photoshoot instead of a godsdamn war.
Though my mind wasn’t solely preoccupied with his good looks.
No, my traitorous thoughts kept dragging me back to the woods. To the way he’d been there without pressing, guiding me without smothering, letting me teeter on the edge of my own darkness and somehow holding the line steady anyway.
Then to the way he’d backed me against Rachel.
And fuck me, that shit did something to me.
“Yer looking a little flushed there, Thompson. Something ye wanna share?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
