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Naia could assume Vex’s sudden silence was his lips giving way to paralysis.

“You bitch!” Astrid screamed, fear rattling beneath her silken, haughty pitch.

“Naia!” Malik bellowed. She’d never heard his voice quake with such thunderous anger.

Their vicious shouts were cut off as Ronin jogged down the staircase. The torn skin and raw flesh of Naia’s back rubbed against the material of his suit, but the pain was nonexistent thanks to the effects of his blood.

To distract herself, Naia focused on Ronin. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t make out a single word from the ringing in her ears.

She knew his truths now. He was a mage, and the blood running through his veins was poison to deities.

Naia reached for her panic. She expected it to light up in her chest like a nuclear war ground, but beforehand, he’d asked her if she trusted him. She hadn’t debated it. The decision to place herself in someone else’s hands proved to be easy with him.

A weak smile curved across her lips.

And then everything went black.

17

TRUTHS

Naia’s eyes cracked open—not a touch of pain left quaking beneath her skin. The cool leather of the furniture stuck to her arms as she slowly sat up, not sure if her head would spin.

“‘Bout time you woke.” Avi sat across from her on an identical leather couch.

A groan came out of her the moment she saw the gaping hole in the abdomen of her dress from Malik’s cleaver.

“Theon, hand me that bottle of water, will you?” Avi pointed across the room to a large executive desk with a technological device on its surface, relatively organized, and a few pens scattered about, some sticky notes stuck in random places.

Naia’s eyes latched onto the nitro cold brew can beside the bottle of water as a man lifted from his position against the wall and trudged over to grab it.

Her pulse ricocheted.

“Ronin,” she blurted. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Avi assured her. “How are you? You were covered in blood when you arrived.”

The rigidness of her muscles gave way from hearing Ronin was okay.

She let out a stiff breath and assessed Avi. His copper hair was slicked back, and he wore a black suit, white button up, and a matching tie.

The man, who Naia had never seen before, handed the water bottle to Avi.

Avi sat the bottle of water down on the table between him and Naia. “Here, drink.”

“I don’t need water,” she dismissed, her eyes catching on the stranger. “Who are you?”

Avi flicked his chin in the stranger’s direction. “This is Theon.”

Naia scrutinized the man. Unlike the others, he wore a mask covering the bottom portion of his face, a long-sleeve turtleneck, and baggy trousers. His hair was a winter shade of white.

She watched his painted fingernails, the color of blueberries, race across his phone screen, uninterested in her presence.

Rude.

“Where are we?” she asked Avi.

Avi’s hand came up to mess with his earrings, smiling sheepishly. “The boss’s office.”