Page 8 of Darkness and Deceit (Obsidian Academy #2)

Six

LILITH

Everything’s unraveling. And every time I reach for the thread, it slips through my fingers like it wants me to fall apart.

I wrap my arms around myself as we walk, as if that might keep everything inside. But my magic hums under my skin, restless and agitated, like it knows something I don’t. Like it’s waiting.

No one speaks.

Not Kai, not Simon, nor Vaughn.

And I should probably be grateful for the silence.

But instead, it feels like pressure behind my eyes. Like if one of them so much as breathes too loudly, I might shatter.

Magnus.

His name echoes through my mind like a curse. A brand. A wound that finally has a label.

Kai walks beside me like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t thrown from the seventh floor. Like the world didn’t crack open and spill secrets I’m not sure we were meant to hear. He moves like gravity let him go on purpose. Like it didn’t dare hold him.

And I hate that he looks so steady when I feel like I’m falling apart.

“You’re still bleeding,” I say, barely more than a whisper.

Kai glances down, touches his side briefly, where the torn fabric still clings to dried blood. “It’s nothing serious.”

Just like that. Like being thrown from a building is nothing. Just another day.

Something in me flares. Maybe it’s the fact I’m mentally and physically exhausted, or maybe all the raw feelings of vulnerability have finally decided to overflow, but I can’t help the sheer fury that escapes and uses Kai as the target.

“You got thrown , Kai.”

He glances up at me and his eyes are calm, his expression gentle. And somehow, that’s worse.

“I had to check on you,” he says simply as if that’s explanation enough.

“You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could’ve,” I whisper. “And it would’ve been my fault.”

“No,” he says, soft but firm. “That was their choice. Not yours.”

I shake my head. The air feels too thin. My chest too tight.

“I’m not built for this,” I mutter. “I don’t want anyone getting hurt just for being near me.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not just anyone,” Kai says, quiet but certain.

The words hit me like a blade—sharp enough to cut through everything I’ve been trying to hold in.

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.

My throat tightens. Guilt sharpens into fury. Fear knots in my stomach, confusion crowding in behind it—too much, too fast.

I press my hands to my eyes. Hard. “Gods, I can’t?—”

A hand brushes my arm. “Hey.”

Simon’s voice this time—closer, steadier. “We’re not asking you to carry it alone.”

“I’m not carrying it,” I bite out. “It’s dragging me. There’s a difference.”

He pauses and then I hear the faintest exhale from him.

“Okay,” he says. “Then we’ll get dragged by it with you.”

Something about that, how simple he makes it sound, makes my chest ache.

I drop my hands and blink at him. “Why do you even want to?”

Simon shrugs. “Because you don’t run from the people you’d bleed for.”

I can’t hold his gaze. Not with the way it softens. Not with the way he says it like it’s the easiest truth in the world.

Vaughn doesn’t speak, but he steps close enough that his shoulder brushes mine. And Kai—still silent—just stays on my other side.

For a moment, the unraveling pauses. Not gone. Not fixed. But steadied.

I exhale slowly. “Thanks.”

It’s not enough.

But that’s all I’ve got.

The class bell chimes in the distance. Outside, late-morning light cuts across the hall, catching dust in the air like ash. Another reminder that the world keeps spinning, even when yours feels like it’s cracked in two.

“We should go,” Simon says gently.

“To class?” I blink at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Vaughn says, already moving. “Bennett said things are going back to normal.” He makes air quotes around the word like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Whatever the hell that means now.”

“She’s still watching,” Kai says quietly. “We make it look like we’re fine. Or she’ll come for Lilith next.”

I press my lips together. “So we pretend.”

“No,” Simon says. “We adapt.”

I don’t answer. I just move, one step after the other, until my feet are carrying me forward again.

Toward whatever normal is now.

We don’t make it far before we hear the voices. “Guess the rumors were true.”

The voice is too loud to be a whisper. Too casual to be innocent.

“... Can’t believe they’re letting her roam free.”

I don’t recognize the speaker, but I know the tone. That’s the tone people use when cruelty makes them feel brave.

“Careful,” another voice says. “She might call her Shadows. Heard she’s got two. Like some kind of cursed collector.”

Vaughn stops walking.

Kai does too.

Simon’s knuckles go white.

“You want to say that again?” Vaughn calls, already stepping forward. “No? Didn’t think so.”

“Keep walking,” I say under my breath. “It’s not worth it.”

“You’re worth it,” Simon says quietly, eyes still on the group ahead.

Kai’s jaw ticks. He shifts, subtly, putting himself between me and them. The moment they see him, the whispers vanish. They shuffle off like smoke.

“They’re scared,” I murmur. “They have no idea what they’re talking about.”

“They don’t need to know,” Kai replies. “They just need to remember who they’re speaking about.”

The students glance back once—eyes wide, words caught behind their teeth—then scatter like smoke curling away from flame.

Kai doesn’t follow their gaze. Doesn’t raise his voice.

He just says, softly enough for only me to hear, “My mate.”

My breath catches and the hallway suddenly feels too bright, too still, like it’s holding its breath with me. I stop walking. My heartbeat thuds loud in my ears.

I turn to look at him, really look at him, and he’s just standing there, steady as ever, dark hair falling into his eyes, broad shoulders tense beneath the black fabric clinging to him like shadow.

There’s always been something feral about the way he holds still, like movement is optional until it’s not.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t soften. But something flickers in his eyes when our gazes lock, something real .

“Kai…” I whisper.

His expression doesn’t change. But he doesn’t take it back, either.

And that?

That undoes me more than anything else.

Simon glances between us like he’s just read a page in a book he wasn’t supposed to see. “I’m supposed to teach a defense class in ten minutes,” he says, clearing his throat—too casual to be accidental.

I blink at him. “You’re teaching?”

“Yeah. Defense rotation for third-years.”

Vaughn snorts. “Poor bastards.”

“They’ll survive,” Simon mutters. “Barely. But I figured since everyone’s so on edge, I’d run drills.”

He looks at Vaughn, and the message is clear: come with me.

Vaughn exhales like it’s an inconvenience. “There are other things I’d rather do,” he says and wiggles his eyebrows at me. I snort and the tension in my chest lightens just a little.

Before he can say anything obnoxious, I pluck the cigarette from behind his ear, toss it to the stone floor, and grind it out beneath my heel. “That’s a terrible habit, you know,” I say, giving him a sharp look. “One you should quit.”

He pauses like he might argue. Then huffs a quiet laugh. “So bossy lately, Fox.” He winks, then—softer, just for me—“You sure you’re okay?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Quit stalling.”

He grins, a real crooked smile. “Fine. I’ll join him.”

Their footsteps echo down the corridor, fading into the hush that follows.

And then there were two.