Page 4 of Darkness and Deceit (Obsidian Academy #2)

Three

SIMON

I swear I’ve practically worn a groove into the stone floor.

For two hours—maybe more—I’ve been pacing the same six feet of narrow, dimly lit hallway outside the interrogation chamber where they’re holding Lilith. My boots scuff against the same uneven crack with each pass, like even the floor is tired of my restless steps.

Vaughn leans against the wall beside me, burning through cigarettes like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

The flame flickers against his too-sharp cheekbones and the mess of dark hair falling into his eyes.

His usual arrogance is gone. What’s left is something sharp. Stripped down. On edge.

“This place is starting to feel like a fucking tomb,” he mutters, flicking ash. “Shield’s sealed the academy tight since Bennett called the Keepers. No messages. No answers. Just this suffocating silence.”

“It’s more than a tomb,” I mutter. “It’s a cage.”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to.

From the moment the Keepers arrived, everything fractured.

They didn’t even give Lilith a chance. Just swept in and took her like she was a threat instead of a girl training to become a Protector.

No greeting. No explanation. No humanity.

One of them brushed past me earlier like I was nothing more than furniture, like I didn’t matter— me , the guy who’s followed every rule, every order since before my Shadowing.

I used to think the Keepers were legends. Unshakable. Noble. They were supposed to be the ones who stood between chaos and collapse. The arbiters of Balance. The ones I trained to serve.

But that illusion cracked the second they looked at Lilith like she was already guilty. Like being a Dual was a crime carved into her skin.

And maybe I would’ve missed it—maybe I would’ve justified it—if I hadn’t seen the way she looked at me right before they pulled her away. Not scared of them. Scared I might let them. That I’d just stand there like some dutiful idiot while they dragged her off.

She didn’t ask for me to choose her.

But I think I did anyway.

I ball my fists behind my back and squeeze until my knuckles ache.

Lilith once told me I was the only constant in her shifting world, that being near me made her feel safe.

And gods help me, I want to be that anchor for her.

But right now she’s locked behind cold stone and colder stares, and I’m out here pacing like some caged animal.

Vaughn drops his spent cigarette, crushes it under his boot, then lights another with a single flick. He inhales, the smoke curling around his words: “She’s been in there too long. They’re not evaluating her. They’re deciding what to do with her.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “They think she’s like the Dual in the prophecy.”

“The one who will tip the scales of Balance to chaos,” he mutters. “The one to tear the realm apart.”

I shake my head. “Well, we both know they’re dead wrong. Lilith is a good person.”

His laugh is bitter. “You think that matters? They see Predator and Prey living in the same skin and see her as an unraveling thread in the Balance. And with one pull everything comes apart.”

“She’s not,” I snap, sharper than I mean to. “Lilith hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter. She exists. That’s enough.”

His words settle like lead. I know the history. Everyone does. One Dual became something twisted, something dangerous, and turned on the system. Tried to unravel the Balance.

And now Lilith carries the same ability, the same potential.

But she’s not the same.

She’s still fighting to understand herself. Still terrified of the power she wields and what she might become. That alone should be proof enough.

“She scares them,” Vaughn says after a beat. “Not only because she has the potential to be dangerous. But because she’s powerful and not easy to control.”

My lips press into a hard line. “And if they decide she’s too powerful to be left alone?”

Vaughn doesn’t answer right away. He looks away, jaw tight, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he doesn’t have a snarky retort or a deflection.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “Then they’ll do what they always do. Quietly. Permanently.”

A sharp breath catches in my chest. I step forward without thinking, until my hand presses against the sealed door. The wards bite at my skin—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me I don’t belong on the other side. That she’s in there. Alone. And I’m not allowed to be.

The pulse of the magic is steady. Cold. Impenetrable.

I ball my fist and rest it against the stone, bowing my head. “She’s not just powerful,” I murmur. “She’s... she’s trying. Every day. She’s afraid of what she could become, and still, she never lets it own her.”

Vaughn exhales hard. “You think the Keepers give a shit about that? They don’t care that she stayed up all night helping that Prey kid through a panic attack. Or that she stitched up a bleeding first-year like it was nothing.”

He shakes his head. “They don’t see who she is. They just see what she could be—like that’s something to fear.”

My throat tightens. “Not who she chooses to be.”

“Exactly.” A long pause. Then Vaughn says, quieter than before, “If they hurt her, I swear to the gods, I’ll?—”

“I know,” I cut in, voice firm. “Me too.”

“If they try to break her, they’re going to find out exactly how many people are willing to burn things down for her.”

My gaze flicks to the empty space beside us—the spot where Kai was earlier. He couldn’t wait around anymore. Said nothing, just disappeared into the shadows, slipping away like a ghost no one could stop. I didn’t ask where he was going. I didn’t need to.

If there was even a slim chance of him seeing her— sensing her—he was going to take it. No matter the rules. No matter the risks.

And gods help the Keepers if something happens to her while he’s watching.

There’s a reason even seasoned instructors flinch when Kai goes still. He’s not loud. Not volatile. But under all that control, there’s something ancient. Something monstrous. And if Lilith screams?

He won’t just burn things down.

He’ll end them.

Vaughn stares past me suddenly, his posture stiffening. “Look.”

I follow his gaze out the narrow window at the end of the hall.

Bennett walks across the courtyard with two Keepers at her sides their blue tunics a violent contrast against the dark sea of student cloaks. She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t glance toward the building, toward us. Just keeps walking, like none of this touches her. Like we’re not even here.

“I don’t like this,” Vaughn mutters. “She hasn’t said a word to us since she called for the Keepers. It’s like Operation Nightfall never existed.”

My throat tightens.

“We were hand-picked,” he continues, voice hardening. “Chosen to handle the academy’s darkest secrets. Trusted with things no one else could touch. But now? They’ve locked us out like liabilities.”

He’s not wrong. The Keepers are supposed to maintain the Balance. And we—the Protectors—exist to guard them while they do it. But right now?

Right now, it feels like we’ve been discarded.

I used to believe in the structure. The hierarchy. The purpose behind every rule, every role. But lately?

It feels like we’re soldiers left outside the battlefield watching the war begin without us, and the person we’d die for trapped on the front line.

“Simon!”

I turn at the sound of my name.

Hannah, a second-year student, is hurrying down the hall toward me. Her glasses are crooked, her expression pinched with worry.

She doesn’t even glance toward the sealed door.

“Do you know what’s going on? No one will tell us anything!

” I tense. Her panic is real—and familiar.

It’s been building in my chest since the moment the Keepers arrived.

Since they locked Lilith away without explanation and made it clear we weren’t welcome inside.

But panic won’t help her. And the truth? That would only put Lilith in more danger.

“I don’t know anything yet,” I tell her gently. “But I promise, the second I do, I’ll let you know.”

She searches my face, eyes wide and desperate for something solid to hold onto—reassurance, clarity, direction. All the things I’m supposed to give her. I’m a mentor. The one they’re meant to look to when the world goes sideways.

And I’m lying to her.

I hate how much it stings.

“Okay. Thanks.” She turns, then hesitates. “Is this about Lilith? The first-year you’ve been mentoring?”

Before I can answer, Vaughn cuts in.

“No,” he snaps, blowing smoke like a wall between us. “It’s not about her. But it’s definitely about a lot of other bullshit. Now go.”

Hannah blinks, clearly thrown, but she listens and leaves without another word.

I exhale and shoot Vaughn a look. “You’re a real people person, you know that?”

“Mm,” he hums. “You’re welcome.”

He lights yet another cigarette. But I don’t bother calling him out on it.

“You know,” I murmur, “you’re not fooling anyone, Vaughn. You care. Maybe more than you want to.”

Vaughn’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking to the sealed interrogation room. “Don’t pretend you’re not thinking the same thing.”

I don’t answer. Because I am.

Finally, the door opens after what feels like forever, and Lilith steps out. If I calculated right, she’s been in there for three and a half hours—and it shows. She looks absolutely drained, like she’s two seconds from punching one of the Keepers in the face.

Her black hair, streaked with faint purple, is twisted into a messy ponytail, and her gray eyes with that violet shimmer look completely done with everything.

Even her shoulders, usually squared with stubborn pride, are slumped. Not in weakness, but in something that looks a hell of a lot like quiet devastation. Just enough to make my stomach twist.