Page 7

CHAPTER 7

Raven

Waiting in Alex's room wasn't the best idea, but while he went to meet the big shots in the Pantheon, I figured it'd be best if I stayed put. What if he doesn't tell me what went down? If I'm here, he can't just ignore me or push me right out the door. Wait, maybe he can—but I'll take my chances.

I'm lounging on his bed, absentmindedly critiquing all the hockey posters and Alex's mostly pretentious smile in the photos where he looks at the camera with a false sense of pride, when the man himself saunters in, looking dejected.

Worry seems to have taken over his face, and the small smile he shoots my way does little to quell the storm of suspicions in my head. What the hell happened with the Pantheon guys?! He doesn’t say anything right away, just tosses his jacket onto the chair and rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to work out a knot.

“Hey,” I say cautiously, finally setting my phone—which I'd picked up to look busy—down on the bed beside me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, but his voice is strained. It’s the kind of yeah that really means no .

I sit up, my heart sinking a little. “What happened?”

He paces across the room. “Nothing. Just... stuff. You know, I think I'm making some headway with The Pantheon, but... they want me to prove that I really want in.”

Ah, so they must have asked him to be part of something wild and obnoxious, like a hazing, maybe. I should have guessed. For a second, my mind goes straight to that evening at the restaurant, to Malakai's green eyes, watchful and filled with malice, yet strangely enticing. Quickly shoving that thought into the attic of my brain, I focus on Alex.

“Did Malakai say something?” I ask, my voice soft. I don't want to be too direct in my questioning.

Alex freezes mid-step, his back to me. “Not something. More like... someone.”

“What does that mean?”

He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. “There’s this thing... a ritual.”

“Okay...” I prompt, a strange unease settling into the pit of my stomach. The way he says ritual makes it sound way more ominous than it should.

“It’s nothing serious,” he says quickly, moving to sit beside me on the bed. His knee bounces nervously, and he runs a hand through his messy blond hair. “It’s just... a tradition. To prove loyalty, I guess. Like hazing, but less... intense.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Less intense? Coming from a guy who played through a broken wrist, that doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”

He laughs, but it’s forced. “It’s really not a big deal, Rae. They just want me to... bring someone to participate.”

“Participate in what?”

“Like I said, it’s not serious. It’s symbolic, mostly. You’d show up, sign a waiver, play along for a bit, and then it’s over. That’s it.”

“You’re not answering my question,” I say, folding my arms. “What exactly would I be participating in?”

He hesitates, looking anywhere but at me. “It’s called the Gods and Lambs ritual.”

I blink at him, waiting for more, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Gods and Lambs? What does that even mean?”

“It’s... kind of like a game,” he says, but his voice wavers. “You’d wear a costume, hang out at this event, maybe get ‘chased’ a little, but it’s all in good fun. No one gets hurt.”

I stare at him, my unease growing. “You’re being really vague for someone who’s asking me to sign up for... whatever this is.”

“I don’t have all the details,” he says, reaching for my hand. His grip is warm but a little too tight. “But I promise it’s safe. You’ll be fine. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

And there it is. The desperation in his voice, the way his eyes plead with me—it’s the same look he gave me when he begged me to move here with him, to leave behind everything familiar so that he could chase his dream.

“Why me?” I ask, pulling my hand away. “Why can’t you just... not do it?”

“Because if I don’t, I’m out,” he says, his voice cracking. “This is my shot, Raven. My only shot. If I don’t prove myself to them, everything I’ve worked for is gone.”

The room feels too small all of a sudden, like the walls are closing in. “Alex, this doesn’t feel right. You’re asking me to put myself on the line for something you won’t even fully explain.”

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, but?—”

“Then trust me on this,” he cuts in, his tone firm. “I need you, Raven. I can’t do this without you.”

I shake my head, trying to make sense of it all. “This sounds... dangerous.”

“It’s not,” he insists. “It’s tradition. They’ve been doing this for years, and no one’s ever gotten hurt.”

“That you know of,” I counter.

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair again. “Raven, please. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.”

My mind starts to process all this, and it doesn't even sound like an "okay, it can't hurt, so let's do it," idea, let alone a good one. But it's important to Alex. And I think I know what's coming next.

And then... he says it: the thing that makes my stomach drop.

“You know my family has had your back for years,” he says softly, his eyes locked on mine. “My dad’s church has been paying for your mom’s treatments. If we lose their support...”

I freeze. “Are you seriously bringing that up right now?” Part of me already knew he would bring it up, but it still feels like a shock.

“I’m not trying to guilt you,” he says quickly, but his expression says otherwise. “I’m just saying... we’re in this together, right? You’ve been there for me, and I’ve been there for you. That’s what we do.”

I feel like I’m spinning, like the ground has been ripped out from under me. “I can’t believe you’d use that against me.”

“I’m not using it against you,” he says, his voice rising. “I’m reminding you why we’ve worked so hard to get here. Why we can’t screw this up.”

My throat tightens, and I look away, blinking back tears. “This isn’t fair, Alex.”

“I know it’s not,” he says, his tone softening again. “But life isn’t fair. You’ve said that yourself. We have to play the hand we’re dealt.”

The room is quiet except for the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I want to say no, to tell him to figure this out on his own. But then I think of my mom, of the way she smiles even when she’s in pain, of the bills piling up back home.

And I know I can’t say no. Not really.

“Fine,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “I’ll do it.”

Alex’s face lights up with relief, and he pulls me into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you, Raven. You won’t regret this.”

But as he holds me, all I can think is how much I already do.

Later that night, after Alex leaves and I'm still reeling from the implication of his request, I fall into a restless sleep. It doesn’t come easy, and when it does, it drags me into a dream that feels too vivid to ignore.

I’m in a forest, the kind that belongs in old fairy tales—dark, tangled, and suffocating. The trees stretch endlessly upward, their gnarled branches weaving into a canopy that blocks out the sky. Fog rolls around my feet, and the air feels electric, charged with something I can’t name.

I hear footsteps behind me—soft, deliberate, and entirely too close. I spin around, but there’s no one there, only the whisper of leaves rustling in the wind. My breath quickens as I start to walk, the fog thickening with every step. The sound of my own heartbeat thunders in my ears.

Then I see them—figures emerging from the mist, their faces hidden by golden masks. They stand in a wide circle, dressed in black, their presence suffocating. They’re watching me. Judging. Waiting.

In the center of the circle is a pedestal draped in white fabric, and on it sits a single lamb mask. The sight of it sends a shiver down my spine, and I know, instinctively, that it’s meant for me. My feet move forward without my permission, drawn to the pedestal like a moth to a flame.

“Put it on,” a voice commands, low and resonant. It cuts through the fog and sets my nerves on edge.

I turn toward the source and see him—Malakai. He steps out from the shadows, tall and imposing, his green eyes glowing like embers. His dark, shaggy hair curls around the edges of his sharp jaw, and tattoos snake down his arms, the ink stark against his skin. He doesn’t wear a mask, but his face is unreadable, and his presence dominates the space.

“You don’t belong here,” I manage to say, but my voice wavers.

His lips curve into a smirk, one that’s equal parts infuriating and magnetic. “Neither do you.”

The figures in the masks close in, their silent gazes pressing down on me, but it’s Malakai who commands my attention. His voice softens, turning almost gentle, but the edge of danger is still there. “Put it on, Raven. Do you want to see what happens if you don’t?”

I shake my head, my hands trembling as they hover over the mask. “Why me? Why are you doing this?”

“You’re here because of him,” he says, taking a slow step toward me. “But you’ll stay because of me .”

Before I can respond, he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from my face. The touch is light, almost tender, but it sends a jolt through me. My pulse hammers in my chest. His eyes bore into mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. I forget the masks, the fog, the circle of onlookers. There’s only him—dark, commanding, and utterly unshakable.

“You’re scared,” he murmurs, his smirk fading. “Good. You should be.”

I wake with a gasp, my heart pounding as though I’ve been running for miles. The room is dark, the air too still, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am.

It was just a dream. But the feeling it left behind—fear, confusion, and a flicker of something I don’t want to name—lingers long after I’m awake.

The phone rings twice before my mom picks up.

“Sweetheart,” she says, her voice warm, familiar. The sound of it immediately eases some of the tension curling in my stomach. “It’s way too early, is everything okay?”

I hesitate, gripping my phone tighter.

No. Everything is not okay.

I should tell her. I should say something .

But I don’t.

Instead, I force a small smile, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah, Mom. Just… wanted to hear your voice.”

She lets out a soft laugh. “I always love hearing yours, too.” There’s a rustling on her end, like she’s moving things around. “How’s school? Are you keeping up with your classes?”

“Yeah,” I say automatically, even though my focus hasn’t been on school at all lately. Not with everything else going on. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Mmhmm,” she hums. “With Alex?”

I hesitate again. “Yeah.”

She sighs, but it’s the kind of sigh that’s fond, not frustrated. “I know he can be a lot, sweetheart, but he’s good for you. And his family… well, they’ve done so much for us.”

The words sink like stones in my gut.

I grip the edge of my desk, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” I murmur. “They have.”

She keeps talking, oblivious to the battle waging inside me. “I saw Reverend Callahan at the hospital last week. He asked about you.”

My breath catches.

“He said he was proud of the way you’re supporting Alex,” she continues. “Said you’re such a good girl, always looking out for him.”

The words tighten around my throat like a noose.

Good girl.

Looking out for Alex.

That’s what this is, right? That’s all this is.

I glance at my reflection in the mirror, at the way my expression shifts—uncertain, trapped.

I want to tell her.

I should tell her.

I should say, Mom, I don’t want to go to this party. I don’t want to be part of this ritual. I don’t know what Alex is getting himself into, and I don’t know if I want to follow him there.

But I don’t.

Because I know what she’ll say.

She’ll remind me of how much Alex’s family has done for us.

How much the church has done for us.

How my mother’s hospital bills are covered because of their kindness.

How, without them, everything falls apart.

So instead, I swallow back the truth and force myself to smile. “Yeah, Mom. I’m just trying to be there for him.”

She practically beams through the phone. “That’s my girl.”

The praise should make me feel good.

Instead, it makes me feel sick.

I wrap my arms around myself, staring at my reflection, watching my own eyes darken.

I should have said something.

But silence is safer.

It always is.

And so, I let it swallow me whole.