Page 15

The moment Noah and I were in the next room, little glass globes flickered to life along the walls, positioned between rows and rows of inbuilt shelving, like we were in some rich person’s cloakroom.

Dusty, moth-eaten clothing hung from rails whilst old-ass shoes, hats, and handbags lined the shelves.

Cobwebs draped in the corners of the room and deep into the shelves with dust coating every visible surface.

It must have been the forgotten cloakroom to the abandoned ballroom.

On the far wall, a dusty wooden sign hung on an angle, a single chain holding it aloft.

“Leave your coat, your hat, and shawl. The sands of time shall quicken and fall. A leap of faith, doubt you must shake. Not all of you a monarch will make.”

I was too damn tired to figure out what it meant. Even Noah, who was usually all over these things, barely glanced at the riddle.

I lowered myself to rest my back against one of the shelves, catching my breath between my gritted teeth.

My arm stung like a bitch. My bionic hand was still warm to the touch and the flesh that met it was tender and inflamed.

I had been trained to endure an assortment of tortures, but fuck, I swear I’d heard the sizzle of my skin being cooked against the metal.

Noah limped to where I sat, dropping down beside me heavily.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head to the ceiling.

I flinched as Noah placed a hand on my bicep.

The unexpected touch made every instinct in me want to push away his touch, but I remained still.

My trust in Noah soon paid off, as I felt my whole body unwind, relief flowing through me.

The stinging burn faded from my skin, and I couldn’t hold back the sigh that left my lips.

Despite the easing in my body, my mind was still reeling, plotting the torturous deaths of those who were toying with us in this game. Was all this necessary for a crown?

The worst part was being at someone else’s whim. I hadn’t cared so much when I’d first entered the trials, having been used to a gang leader telling me what to do, but now that I’d rid myself of Cormac, the idea of someone controlling me was sickening.

I hated being at someone’s mercy.

I was no one’s pawn. Not anymore.

To my relief—surprising as it would have once been—Kayden and Zane staggered into the room with a few Potentials close on their heels.

The door between the ballroom and cloakroom slammed shut with a resounding click that echoed through the room, trapping at least eight Potentials on the other side.

Then the only sound to take its place was heavy breathing and groans from survivors.

I ran my gaze over the 11 Potentials inside with me. We’d all seen better days, I could say that much.

“I’m good now. Thanks, though,” I said and nudged Noah’s hand from my arm.

I wasn’t going to eat up all his magic, especially as he was injured himself.

He looked tired as fuck, his brown skin lacking its usual vibrant glow.

The sagging shoulders were a dead giveaway of his fatigue and the toll his injured leg was taking.

“No problem,” Noah croaked. He slowly opened his eyes and tilted his head down to where Zane was currently mimicking a dried-out fish.

Much like the rest of us, Zane didn’t look too peachy keen, either.

His mouth and gills opened and closed in unison, as he kept trying to wet his lips unsuccessfully.

He lay on the floor with Kayden sitting by his side.

The big guy met my gaze and nodded, confirming he was okay.

We weren’t friends. Outside of the princess, he was just a means to survive.

That’s what I kept telling myself anyway, even if I had felt relief that they’d made it moments ago.

Survival and Fallon: the only reasons I gave a shit about the big guy.

I had no idea why she liked him beyond a means to an end, but I wasn’t gonna question her judgment.

She got bratty over shit like that. The thought caused a smirk to tug at my lips as filthy ideas slipped into my head.

On second thought, maybe a conversation about Kayden was as good as any to stoke the fire…

Noah leant forward with a groan as he gazed at the dehydrated merman, but my attention moved to the guy closest to the door we’d just passed through.

He rose to his feet, with drooping shoulders and a flushed face, a nasty red cut slashed across his cheek.

Despite looking like he needed a week-long nap, his eyes held the ferocity of a dog in the fighting pits.

There was something about this guy. All the Potentials were somewhat familiar, but this one tickled my memory, even if I couldn’t place him right away.

He focused on Noah, his feet scraping along the floor as he came to glare down at us. I straightened my back as my features shifted to my trademark fuck-off face. Instinctively, I prepped my body for whatever the asshole was about to dish out.

“He healed you and now he’s gonna heal the surfer dude,” the guy grunted, sneering at Noah and blocking his way to Zane.

The fish-man in question was still on the ground, gasping, looking worse by the second. He needed Noah A-fucking-SAP. Noah shrugged and sat back casually as fuck despite his pain, the cheeky bastard.

“That’s cheating,” the guy accused.

“No idea what you’re on about,” I replied flatly, my gaze leaving him only long enough to see Kayden’s taut shoulders and hardened stare on the guy’s back.

“Liar and a cheat,” the guy said. “Though I expected as much from you. Fucking Drake. But unlike you, the others come from cities with morals. Guess it makes sense considering what else, or should I say, who else you do together.”

“I’d shut the fuck up right now if I were you,” Kayden growled.

The guy snapped his head to where Kayden was slowly rising to his feet. Boulder boy cracked his knuckles, flashing his teeth. If Kayden had been born in Damascon Hollow the gangs would have fought over him. He would have been a Drake of course and a fucking scary one at that.

The guy blanched, taking a step in the opposite direction with raised hands, but he kept running his mouth.

Fucking moron. “You used to be an honourable man, Kayden Hale. Now look at you, fallen so far. You four and Fallon Auger have allied. Not only do you cheat but you get away with it. That makes you a threat.”

Ahh, so he was one of Kayden’s former lackeys. That’s where I knew him from.

“Sounds like you’re jealous he left you and those other pathetic followers for us. Must sting that he preferred the upgrade.”

“Fuck you! Are we really going to stand for this?” He looked at the other Potentials in the cloakroom, searching for allies of his own.

The mood dropped faster than a hooker's panties as tension thickened the air.

The Potentials shifted uneasily, looking between each other and us.

There had always been a divide among the Potentials.

Everyone had formed their own little groups to work together, but we were in the final trial now.

Most alliances had been dissolved, and it was every Potential for themselves.

At least in most cases.

“Stormcrest City usually keeps away from the filth, but I think it’s time to take out the trash,” the guy declared with a sneer, drawing his shoulders back and puffing out his chest. It was a pathetic sight.

Honestly, he looked ready to sit down and sleep off the last torture rather than get into a fistfight. “Who’s with me?”

I glimpsed a single hesitant face, but it quickly disappeared.

None of them would be here if it weren’t for their instinct and ability to survive.

Whatever they thought of us, they weren’t as brain-dead as this guy.

If a brawl were to start, they knew they’d lose.

Survival in these trials may have corroded a fuck-tonne of morals, but most held onto their dignity despite the odds, unlike this loser.

Yes, we may have been technically cheating, but fuck, if he’d just kept his mouth shut, we might have even offered to help. Too late for that though.

The trials made you look deep inside yourself to see what you were fucking capable of and he had found himself lacking, hence his current predicament.

Not everyone was lucky enough to come from a gang that opened their eyes to the monster within at a young age.

It may have been an upper hand for me to begin with, but now there were monsters all around me.

Brutal fucking beasts that were within reach of their deepest desire; a shiny crown and the power over an entire country.

Life was full of poor choices. Most of the time your hand was twisted behind your back and you were forced to do some fucked-up shit—pull a trigger, twist a knife—other times, you were a greedy motherfucker and just wanted more than you got.

He lunged at Noah with his fist, swiping at his head, but I was faster and wouldn’t let him make contact.

I pushed forward, barrelling into him and knocking him sideways off his feet.

He let out a grunt and squirmed, his fists flying.

Despite any formal training at the academy, nothing prepared you for a real fistfight.

There were no rules, no code, just a desire for the upper hand, which I currently had.

I dodged his blows, landing a few of my own.

My bionic hand made contact with his chest and cracked his collarbone. He cried out in shocking pain.

“Odds are against you,” he grunted from blood-coated lips.

“I don’t usually gamble, but I’ll take that bet,” I snapped, sick of the guy’s shit.

There’s nothing I hated more than a bastard who waited to kick someone when they were already down.

Opportunistic gutter rat. “And when I’m done beating the shit out of you, I’ll make sure to give you something to remember my little lesson. ”