Page 95 of Red Ruin

The Sentinel’s eyes pop; he’s finally rejoining us in reality.

I pat Remy’s hand. “Let him go before he chokes.”

The shadow yoke dissolves.

Simms gasps.

Instead of apologizing, covering his business, or even taking a breath, the first thing he does is cover his blissed-out Guide. His hands shake as he pulls a sheet over his lover.

The dark-haired Guide glows green as a glow-bug, still brainless after being fucked into his liquid form.

Pain stabs, hot and sharp.

I shouldn’t be jealous.

Think of the chafing.

“Azrid.” Simms coughs. “What brings you to our quarters?”

“I brought him.” I tap my badge. “I’m Commander Ashbourne. You ignored my summons just now. Did you even notice the base was being attacked?”

“Was it? Bummer.” Simms runs his fingers through shaggy blond hair. Their fuck-fest has lasted so long that he’s working on a caveman beard. “Wait. You’re a Guide? Why are you in command?”

“No one else applied for the job.”

“Good point.” He squints through the dark. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Remy extends the shadow screen to the ceiling, blocking Simms’s view. “Does he absolutely need to have eyes?”

S-class Sentinels must be programmed to antagonize each other, because Simms doesn’t take the hint to shut his mouth. “Right, right. The house. Ashbourne. Like, Sorrel’s sister?”

“F—” I manage to choke off the habitual explanation.

Foster sister.

Sorrel doesn’t like anyone misunderstanding our relationship.

He’s the biological son and heir—the one tasked with reviving the glory of Ashbourne house and regaining the margrave title they lost with their fading bloodline.

Not that that hasanythingto do with me.

I’m just the orphan kid and suspected Guide that his evil step-mother brought into the house to secure her position after she poisoned Sorrel’s actual mother, the former baroness.

We could’ve bonded over our shared trash family, but Sorrel went evil step-brother. I killed my first goblin at seven because hereleased themonto the estate.

For “training,” back when the family didn’t care how I lived, as long as I was alive. They only expected me to become a D or C-class Guide.

Sorrel is why I was so happy to play along with my mother’s power-climbing, getting engaged young and leaving home as soon as I legally could.

That’s why I worked so hard to stay with a duke who didn’t love me. That’s why I have to keep working so fucking hard to earn a place here, in the armpit of the empire.

I willnevergo back to that house.

Luckily, I no longer owe shit to my family.

I owe Simms even less.

“Worry about yourself,” I say and push back my shoulders. “You have ten minutes to wash yourself, find a clean uniform, and get your Guide to a healer.”