Page 35

Hell

Standing in the carnival grounds, I stare up at Oddity engulfed in red flames. Wood cracks and pops, embers flying into the dark sky like burning confetti from hell. A cig hangs from my lips, smoke curling as Noir tucks tight against my arm.

“I really hope he finds her,” she says quietly beside me, voice thin, a light sniffle escaping and I glance down at her.

“There’s no hope about it, my pretty girl. He’s got this,” I say, solid and sure because I know my brother.

“I can’t believe he burned down Oddity,” she murmurs, eyes wide on the wreckage.

“I can,” I reply flatly. “He doesn’t have many options left, Dolly. This is what a madman’s desperation looks like—for the girl he’s utterly obsessed with.”

That’s when I notice headlights cutting through the dark, sharp beams sweeping across us. I side-eye to see luxury cars crawling onto the carnival grounds.

“Stay behind me, Noir,” I say calmly, already turning to face them.

Soul steps beside me without a word, and I catch movement from the corner of my eye—Oddity crew falling into place behind us like shadows ready to bleed.

I flick my cig to the ground after one last long drag, smoke burning down my throat as I shove my hands deep into my pockets. The car doors click open slowly like they’ve got all the time in the world.

Three Shadows step forward, faces blurred by the high beams burning straight into our eyes. One of them stops, head tilted, taking in the Cirque behind us, nothing but fire and ruin now.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks, gesturing toward the flames with his leather-gloved hand.

“What the fuck does it look like?” Soul bites back, tone dry as ash.

I side-eye him, but it’s already too late.

“It looks like Wrath’s funeral, that’s what it looks like,” the man replies coolly.

Soul moves forward without thinking, a low sound ripping out of him, all instinct.

I throw my arm out, blocking him just before he lunges, my body tense. Soul steps back with a sharp growl, pacing like a caged animal.

“If I remember right, Wrath has no mercy,” another Shadow says, voice slick like oil. “He’s not only killed a member—he’s torched Oddity to the ground. You know what that means.”

He pauses, eyes gleaming like he's already handed down the sentence.

“This leaves us with no choice.”

“And what the fuck about Madame, hm?” Soul snaps, her blood still fresh on his hands. “Does she mean fuck all? She built this place with us.”

“Is she dead?” one of them asks, raising a brow like it's a casual checkmark on a list.

“What the fuck does that matter?” I growl low, and every head turns toward me. “Where’s Valen’s punishment?”

“It could be handled civilly. It hasn’t gone to mercy yet, and it hasn’t been officially discussed. We’re still trying to reach him,” one of them offers, like that excuses a damn thing.

Soul scoffs hard beside me, and I side-eye him again to hold him back.

“That’s a separate issue,” another one cuts in. “The real problem is this,” he gestures to the chaos around us. “Hell lost his mercy last month. Wrath’s lost his. I’m starting to wonder what the fuck is going on here.”

“Does it matter?” I snap. “None of us here are gonna stand by and let you kill Hollow Wrath. HeisOddity. HeisThe Hollows.” I lift a finger, jaw tight, biting through my words. “And you need us.”

They glance at each other, uncomfortable in the silence, before one finally speaks.

“Rules are rules. We can’t go against what we believe in and what’s always worked. If we start going backward, this society will fall into disorder.”

“Fuck it,” Soul bites out. “He can have mine.”

I turn my head to look at him in an instant.

“Give Wrath my fucking mercy. You might be a pack of unloyal, using fucks, but I ain’t.” Soul smashes his fist against his hard, shirtless chest. “I’d happily die for my brothers.”

I feel a sense of pride calling him my brother when he says that. The Shadows glance at one another before exchanging a brief nod.

“Okay, we can accept that,” one agrees, and I feel my shoulders ease just a little. “But…”

We all pause, eyes narrowing into slits.

“That still doesn’t fix the fact that this place is a fucking wreck. Business needs to continue.”

I raise my chin, squaring my shoulders.

“What do you suggest?”

Just then, I hear a car door open behind them and my eye darts that way.

A man I don’t recognize steps forward, his crisp suit barely creased, and his sharp blue gaze cuts through the crew before landing on Noir, still tucked behind me.

He holds her stare for a beat too long, something strange passing across his face—recognition, maybe. Then his eyes shift to mine.

“I’m bringing my son and his crew in,” he says. “They’ll help rebuild Oddity. Keep shit moving while Madame’s out.”

Soul snarls beside me, stepping forward. “And who the hell are you? Who the fuck’s your son?”

Suddenly, another car door slams open, but the damn headlights are too bright to see shit. All I can hear are the slow, heavy thuds of boots hitting gravel, each step calculated.

But as soon as he steps forward far enough, I feel a low growl rumble in my throat, and I feel Soul goes tense beside me like a coiled spring.

Ruin. From Nocturnique.

Standing tall, broad, and shirtless, his glowing orange eyes slice clean through the night like firelight. His entire body’s lined with black, orange, and purple stripes—painted or inked, who the fuck knows. His face is blacked out with eerie, jagged paint, teeth bared beneath. Black hair slicked back with harsh orange streaks running through like flames licking at his skull.

Like a fucking washed-down version of The Hollows.

“Yeah, no. I don’t fucking think so,” Soul growls, not taking his eyes off Ruin for even a second.

Ruin tilts his head, slow and deliberate, dragging those ember-orange eyes down Soul’s front like he’s sizing up prey.

“I don’t think any of you are in the position to object, Soul,” Ruin’s father says flatly, and all our gazes cut to him.

“Now make sure Wrath gets my daughter back here.”

“Daughter?” Noir says, stepping out from behind me, her voice small but sharp.

I glance down at her, brows pulling, but I’m just as confused as she is.

Both Ruin and his father just stare at her, blank and unreadable, while Noir gawks back, her blue eyes flicking between them, like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle that’s been buried her whole damn life.

What the fuck is going on here? Does this mean Ruin is Noir and Aurelia’s brother?

They don’t even explain. Ruin and his father just share a brief glance, some silent communication passing between them, before turning and walking back toward the car like none of this shit matters.

Ruin throws one last look over his shoulder, straight at Soul. And I glance at Soul too, noticing the way his jaw clenches and fists tighten like he’s one second from snapping.

Their past is fucked and full of hatred. I know that much.

“Hey! What did you mean by daughter?” Noir yells after them, frustration cracking in her voice.

They ignore her, then The Shadows nod once at me before they all begin turning away too, moving like nothing happened.

“We’ll be in touch,” one mutters.

My jaw sets, muscles wired tight, just watching them pile into their sleek cars and reverse out of the carnival like they didn’t just drop a live grenade in our laps and walk the fuck away.