Page 21

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Briar

I don’t think I truly understood fear until I saw Brexlyn underwater, blood trailing from her head, panic in her eyes, thrashing through crimson-tinged water with a hulking figure closing in behind her.

I’d been swimming for at least an hour at this point, lungs burning, muscles screaming, chasing down the final scattered pieces we each needed to survive this trial. When I found her, when I saw what had happened to her, I could have killed Devrin with my bare hands. I still might, but surviving and getting back to Thorne and Ezra was the most important thing now. My revenge on that Saltspire bastard would have to wait.

Bex was quick. Sharp. Even with the injury. She moved with purpose, zeroing in on the right pieces with barely a glance. It was that damn brilliant mind of hers. She’d probably seen one of these contraptions once years ago and still remembered every curve, every connection. It was stamped on her brain.

But the blood loss was catching up with her. I saw it in the way her limbs lagged, the sluggishness in her strokes. We had to move faster. She had all her pieces now. When we finally surfaced in one of the narrow, half-submerged chambers, I managed a shaky grin.

“Go,” I panted. “Head back. I’ll be right behind you.”

She shook her head, water streaming down her face. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

“You need to get out of the water. And Ezra, he’s waiting for you.”

“The longer we argue,” she insisted, “the longer it’ll take for both of us to get back.”

Her eyes blazed, refusing to even entertain the idea of abandoning me. God, she was stubborn. I almost argued again, but my heart fluttered. Thrilled that she didn’t want to leave me. Finally I nodded, and together we dove again.

Three more descents, and I finally snagged the last piece I needed. Relief crashed through me… until I surfaced and realized I had no idea which way was back to the tank. My head spun.

The canals all looked the same. Dark, endless stretches of underwater tunnels with only the occasional pocket of air.

Thank the stars for Brexlyn . She surfaced beside me, panting, eyes dull with exhaustion but sharp with focus. She’d been mapping the paths in her head the whole time, of course she had.

I let her lead, following the faint movements of her hand in the murky water. But she was fading. Her strokes lost strength. She started to drift. I grabbed her arm and hauled her up to a pocket of air .

“I’m okay,” she murmured, though her skin had gone gray, lips tinged blue.

“You’re about to pass out,” I choked, panic clawing at my chest.

“Three… lefts,” she whispered, head tipping against my shoulder. “And… a right.”

Then her eyes fluttered shut. Her body went limp in the water.

“No, no, no…” I caught her, cradling her head above the surface. “Hollis, wake up for me, baby,” I pleaded, my voice cracking. Her lashes didn’t even flutter.

I had to move. Now.

I timed her breathing, watching for the faintest rise and fall of her chest. Every second mattered. Then, tightening my grip around her, I dove.

Three lefts. A right.

Each turn, I prayed she’d hold on. I stopped at every air pocket I could find, forcing us both above the water. She gasped in thin, ragged breaths, unconscious but still clinging to life. Every time she took in air, a spark of hope reignited in my chest.

One last stretch.

My muscles screamed in protest. The weight of the pieces shoved into our wetsuits threatened to drag us down. I cursed God. Cursed Praxis. Cursed the Run. But I didn’t stop.

And then, ahead, I saw it. The faint shimmer of light above, the outline of the cage, our way out.

With everything I had left, I kicked hard, breaking the surface with a ragged gasp, Brexlyn clutched in my arms. Water crashed around us. Relief and terror surged through me in equal measure.

I hauled Bex onto the solid ground, my chest heaving, arms shaking from exertion and terror. Water slicked off her body as I laid her flat on her back, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the sight of her still, pale face. My heart thundered in my ears.

“Come on, Hollis,” I whispered, tearing the weighted pieces of the machine from her wetsuit, flinging them aside like they meant nothing, because right now, they didn’t. Not if it meant losing her.

I pressed my palms against her chest, my own hands trembling. “Come on, baby, please. Breath,” I begged, voice cracking like glass under pressure. I leaned down, forcing a desperate breath into her mouth. Then another.

The water still clung to her lips, my tears mixing with it, blurring my vision as I worked. I pressed again, harder. Another breath. Another.

“Come back to me, Hollis,” I pleaded, voice rough and breaking apart at the edges. “We need you. I need you.”

There were so many things I hadn’t said. So many things I wanted to ask her, to tell her. Somewhere between those endless trees in the Wilds and this hellish trial, she’d found a way into the deepest, most guarded corners of me and made herself at home there. And it had been so effortless. So natural. I wasn’t ready to lose that. Not now. Not ever.

We weren’t finished. Not even close. We haven’t even started yet.

And then, she coughed. Violent, ragged, water spilling from her lips as her body shuddered back to life. Relief cracked through me, and I fell back on my heels, gasping for breath, the weight in my chest finally breaking.

“Hey,” I croaked, brushing the wet hair from her face as she blinked up at me, dazed and weak, but alive.

Only then did I glance up and spot the camera pointed directly at us.

Zaffir stood behind it. Our Praxis-assigned cameraman. His eyes were glassy, face stricken. I’d seen the way he looked at Bex around the house, how his walls would drop when she laughed. And right now, the raw fear and grief on his face spoke volumes. There was history there. Unspoken things. His world had almost ended in front of him.

Then my gaze snagged on the tank.

The people inside, the ones still bound to those metal poles, were rising, the water creeping higher. Panic clutched at my throat as I locked eyes with Thorne. His face was pressed against the glass top of the tank, desperately clinging to the last few inches of breathable air. Ezra wasn’t far from him, straining against his restraints too.

And then Brexlyn’s voice, ragged and weak, cut through the panic. “Briar…”

I scrambled to her side. “Hey, beautiful,” I murmured, slipping an arm under her shoulders. “We gotta move. Now. We have to get them out of there.”

She groaned, pain flickering across her face.

“I know, baby, fuck, I know.” I helped her sit up. “But Ezra needs you.” Her gaze sharpened when I mentioned his name. And that was all it took.

Her bloodshot eyes locked on mine for a beat. Then she nodded, jaw set despite the tremble in her limbs.

We both started fumbling with the pieces I’d dragged out of her wetsuit, hands shaking as we fit them together. It wasn’t perfect. It was desperate, frantic. But Bex was still sharper than anyone else in this goddamn place even with a head wound.

“This tube,” she rasped, “into this chamber.” Her voice was barely a whisper, whether from exhaustion or fear of being overheard, I didn’t know.

Our fingers brushed as we connected the final pieces on each of our devices. They clicked into place.

“We’ve got it!” I shouted, holding up the makeshift device .

A Praxis guard strode over, taking his sweet time examining our work. Every second felt like a year. I clenched my fists, biting back the scream clawing up my throat. Finally, he grunted his approval and handed us each a key.

I grabbed Bex’s hand. “Come on.”

Running on pure adrenaline, we climbed the slick ladder up to the top of the tank. The access hatch was barely wide enough for one of us at a time.

“Go get him,” I said, cupping her cheek. Her skin was ice-cold, but she nodded, eyes gleaming with that familiar reckless fire. No hesitation.

And then we dove.

The icy water hit like a wall, but I forced myself to move, homing in on Thorne. He’d slipped under completely, face pale in the shifting light.

I reached for him, and fumbled the key into the lock on his handcuffs. It was jammed. I cursed, twisting harder. It gave. His wrists came free.

Without a word, we kicked off the side, swimming hard toward the exit. Through the murky water, I spotted Brexlyn with Ezra clutched to her, his face a mixture of fury and desperation as he dragged her upward with him.

We burst through the surface together, gasping and heaving. I climbed out first, then turned to reach for Bex.

As we climbed down from the tank, she nearly collapsed, her body giving out as she slumped into Ezra’s arms.

Ezra was murmuring to her, soft words I couldn’t make out, but I could feel the weight of them. Words thick with love and gratitude, whispered promises and desperate relief, his hand stroking her soaked hair as she clung to him like a lifeline.

Then Thorne stepped up in front of me, eyes bloodshot, water still clinging to his skin. He pulled me into a rough, shaking embrace.

“Close call, sis,” he muttered against my ear, his breath ragged. “I was starting to really doubt the whole ‘you can trust me’ speech you gave me.”

“Glad you’re okay,” I said, gripping the back of his neck and holding him there for a beat longer than either of us might have admitted we needed.

And then a scream tore through the room. “No! No, please!”

My head snapped toward the sound just as Dani Cale stumbled forward, her hands trembling as she held up her device to the guard standing by the tank.

“You’ve got the wrong configuration,” the guard said flatly, barely sparing her a glance. “You have the wrong tube.”

“No, no, please, please… Check again. Give me the key!” Her voice cracked, raw and breaking. She rushed toward the tank, slamming her palms against the glass where her son was thrashing beneath the rising water, the chains keeping him trapped as panic overtook him.

“Baby, I’m here. Momma’s here,” Dani cried, her voice shattering on every word as she tried to catch his eyes through the water-streaked glass.

“Give me the key!” She screamed again.

“You have the wrong configuration,” the guard repeated.

She screamed, slamming her fist against the tank.

“You can’t do this!” she cried. But the guard remained still and unyielding.

She turned away from the child in the tank, took a steadying, decisive breath, and then she climbed. Her hands fumbled for the ladder, soaked and shaking, but she didn’t slow. No one moved to stop her.

She didn’t have a key. Wasn’t even trying to bring one .

She wasn’t going in there to set him free. She was going in there to drown with him.

I felt the bile rise in my throat, my stomach twisting as she slipped through the hatch and disappeared into the water.

“Let’s go,” Ezra said quietly, his voice rough. He was cradling Bex’s head against his shoulder, shielding her from the unfolding nightmare. I saw the tremble in his jaw, the way his eyes refused to drift toward the tank.

None of us wanted to see what came next. We turned away as a new wave of water crashed into the chamber, as the tank began to overflow, the sound of it rushing in loud and relentless. And then we left. Left the room, left the tank, left those last terrible sounds behind us. We didn’t look back.

I closed the door behind us, locking us into one of the small holding rooms where they’d corralled us before the trial. Ezra had Bex pressed into his side, one hand fisting the fabric of her suit like he could anchor her there. Thorne sagged against the wall, sweat and water trailing down his face. And Zaffir stood stiff and pale in the corner, his camera lowered, a look of sick, soft horror on his face like the weight of what he'd filmed was finally breaking through the detachment.

He powered down the camera with trembling fingers and moved toward Bex, his whole posture shifting as he crouched in front of her.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said softly, his voice cracking a little at the edges. “Let’s get that head of yours patched up, huh?”

Bex managed a weak smile, her lips ghosting the word, “Thanks.”

Zaffir grabbed a first aid kit from the corner and started working, pulling the makeshift bandage I made from her head.

“Quick thinking, Briar,” Zaffir commended, brushing matted hair from the area and cleaning the gash with shaking hands .

“Yeah,” I replied. Ezra peeled away from Bex and let Zaffir work, coming straight for me, eyes storm-dark.

“What the fuck happened to her down there?” he hissed, his voice low but tight, vibrating with fury.

“She was attacked,” I said, my own anger curling sharp beneath my skin.

“By who?” Thorne asked, straightening.

“Devrin,” I spat, the name like poison in my mouth. “Asshole thought he could take the pieces she already collected.”

Ezra’s face contorted, his jaw clenched so hard I could hear his teeth grind. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Get in line,” I muttered, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

I risked a glance at Bex. She was doing her best to follow Zaffir’s instructions, but I could see it, the pallor, the tremor in her fingers, how she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from making a sound every time he touched the wound.

“She lost a lot of blood,” I said grimly.

“She needs to rest,” Thorne murmured, his gaze locked on her like she might slip away if he looked anywhere else. The idiot was head over heels, even if he didn’t have the spine to admit it yet.

And then Zaffir’s voice cut through, low and tight. “Unfortunately, all of you have an interview to prepare for.”

It felt like a slap.

“You’re joking,” Thorne snapped, stepping forward. “She’s in no condition for that.”

“I know that,” Zaffir bit back, his face flushing, eyes bright with unshed fury of his own. “You think Praxis gives a shit?”

And that was it. The crack in my temper split wide open.

“Aren’t you Praxis?” I snarled, venom flooding every word. “Or is that just when you’re holding the fucking camera?”

Zaffir’s head snapped up. He stood, stepping toward me so fast the chair he’d been kneeling by skidded back with a scrape.

“You think you can buddy up next to us when we’re at the cabin, but then stand by and watch them put us through that!” I said, pointing furiously to the door we’d just arrived through. Where on the other side a mother was actively drowning with her child.

“I don’t have a choice, Briar,” he barked, eyes blazing, nose to nose with me now.

“You think that buys you a free pass?” I growled, shoving him back a step. “You think you get to stand behind your lens during the trials then go home and pretend that you’re not part of this? That you didn’t watch that kid drown tonight? That you didn’t watch a mother climb in to die with him and just…keep filming?”

Zaffir’s face twisted, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I'm trying to keep you all alive.”

“By what? Making us look palatable for broadcast? Making the public love us so they cry when Praxis inevitably kills us?” I shouted, shoving him again, harder this time.

Ezra was there in an instant, grabbing my arm. “Briar, enough.”

But I wasn’t done. “You don’t get to pretend you’re one of us. Because you’re not.”

“I’m trying to protect her!” Zaffir roared, pointing to Bex. His voice cracked on the last word. “Every fucking day. Altering your edits. Omitting things. But it’s a risk I’d gladly take for her. For all of you!”

He came at me then, catching me off guard. His shoulder collided with mine, and then Thorne was pushing him back with maybe a little too much force. The room erupted in shouted voices as Ezra and I tried to pull them apart.

“Stop it!” Bex’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade .

Everyone froze.

I turned to see her pushing to her feet, swaying, blood streaked down the side of her face, her eyes burning with something fierce and terrible and heartbreakingly brave.

“Please…” she whispered, and somehow the whisper was louder than any shout.

Zaffir stilled beside me, his chest heaving. I released my grip on his collar. He didn’t move.

“Zaffir may wear the colors, but he’s no more Praxis than any of us,” she said, her voice steady though her legs trembled. “I’ve known that for a while now, and I think you have too.”

Zaffir’s gaze found hers, and his face crumpled. A soft, strangled sound escaped him, half sob, half apology.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, tears slipping free now, streaking down his face. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” Bex murmured, crossing the room with painful slowness and pulling him into her arms. His shoulders shook under her touch, grief and guilt breaking him apart.

“I’ll be okay for the interview,” she added, turning her head to look at the rest of us. “I can rest after. I’m fine.”

She was lying. Every one of us knew it. But none of us called her on it.

Zaffir scrubbed a trembling hand down his face and backed away, sinking into a chair like his legs might give out.

I took advantage of the quiet moment and made my way over to her, each step came heavier and heavier like my body was only just catching up with the trauma I’d just put it through. She looked up as I approached, and her mouth curled into the gentlest smile. It hit me square in the chest.

“You scared the shit out of me in there, Hollis,” I whispered as I knelt in front of her. Her hand reached for mine without hesitation, and I wrapped my fingers around hers like I’d never let go again. Like she was the only thing tethering me to this earth.

“You saved my life,” she said softly. I didn’t feel worthy of the words, or of her, but I’d accept them anyway. “Again,” she added, letting out the faintest chuckle, worn at the edges but still somehow light.

“We really have to stop meeting like that,” I offered, trying for humor, though it came out a little strangled beneath the lingering fear still coiled inside me.

Her smile didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened, a little sad now. A little too knowing. “I have a feeling it won’t be the last time,” she murmured. Her gaze dropped to where our hands were joined, like maybe she was grounding herself in the same way I was.

I brought her hand to my lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. She lifted her other hand, curling her fingers beneath my chin and guiding my gaze back to hers.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered again, and this time the words settled somewhere in my bones.

“Thank you for staying alive,” I breathed. “And I… I wanted to apologize. For kissing you. Earlier.”

Her expression shifted slightly. Just a flicker of curiosity beneath the calm.

“Not because I didn’t want to,” I rushed to add, heart in my throat now. “God, I did. I’ve wanted to for a while. But I shouldn’t have surprised you like that. You were scared, and I was just so relieved you were alive, and in that moment, it felt like…like it was the only thing I could do. But that doesn’t make it fair to you.”

I hesitated, drawing in a breath I didn’t know what to do with. “And maybe you only kissed me back because you were thankful. Or in shock. I don’t know.” We’ve gotten close over the last few weeks, but she’s never made a move to kiss me. Even with those quiet heat-filled moments we shared in the Wilds, or the way she glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking. I can’t just assume she wants the same thing I do. Or that she feels the same way. “And I need you to know… if you don’t want that… if friendship is all this is for you, I’ll be okay with that. I just… don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

It was the part I hadn’t said out loud until now, the fear that had been quietly gnawing at me since the moment our lips met. I would never want to mistake gratitude for affection, or make her feel like she owed me anything. I couldn’t bear that.

“Briar.” Her voice brought me back, soft but firm, and when I looked up, her eyes were locked on mine. Steady. Clear. “Let me be perfectly upfront about this. I want so much more than just friendship from you.”

For a second, I forgot how to breathe. My heart did something unsteady in my chest, and before I could say a word, she leaned down and kissed me.

Not like before. Not rushed or desperate. This kiss was deliberate and tender. A promise tucked between parted lips and the press of her fingers against my jaw. Her mouth moved with mine slowly, like we had all the time in the world now. And although I knew we didn’t– for this moment, we pretended.

Every stroke of her tongue against mine quieted the doubt. Every sigh between us wiped away the hesitation I’d carried. This was her. Wanting me. Choosing me.

When we finally broke apart, we just smiled at each other, grinning uncontrollably. All girlish and breathless, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.

God, she was beautiful when she blushed. I made a mental note to make her blush more often .

Then came a knock at the door.

The tension in the room snapped taut again. Zaffir hastily scooped up his camera, flipping it back on while Ezra moved to open the door. I stood, and put my body between Bex and the door, just in case it was Devrin and I got my chance to kick his ass.

A Praxis guard stood waiting on the other side of the corridor, his posture rigid and weapon slung across his chest. His face was unreadable.

“Trial results have been determined,” he announced. “Briar Grey, first place. And Brexlyn Hollis, you’ve been disqualified for failure to exit the canals under your own power.”

The words hit like a slap. A sick, sharp silence followed, broken only by the shallow sound of Bex’s breath beside me.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Ezra snapped, stepping forward before anyone could stop him.

“She almost died in there!” Thorne added, voice sharp and shaking.

“She should have won,” I cut in, the heat in my chest boiling over. “You’re telling me she gets nothing because I helped her swim for the last ten minutes?”

The guard’s hand drifted toward his holster. “Stand down,” he said, voice firm. His fingers fully wrapped around the butt of his weapon.

I heard someone curse under their breath behind me. My heart pounded in my throat.

Then Bex stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper, but somehow it sliced through the rising panic like a blade.

“Stop.”

We all froze. She reached out and touched my arm, just lightly enough to ground me .

“It’s okay,” she said, looking only at me. Her lips trembled, but her eyes held steady.

“Hollis—” I started, but she shook her head.

“I’m alive,” she said quietly. “That’s enough.”

The air seemed to shift with her words. The tension held for one more fragile beat, then began to bleed out like a slow exhale. We all stood down. Our anger, still there, but less confrontational. Less reckless.

The guard’s hand slipped away from his weapon. He studied us for a moment longer before finally speaking again.

“This way.”

He turned sharply and started walking. We followed in reluctant silence, still raw with the injustice of it all but too drained to push back further.

He led us through a maze of sterile, winding halls that echoed with the weight of everything we weren’t saying. Eventually, we emerged at the front of the facility, where a row of black Praxis cars idled at the curb.

And then I saw him.

Devrin. Being escorted to his car. Alone. His face contorted into a mask of anger.

My feet moved before my brain could catch up. I gripped his shoulder and spun him around. My fist collided with his jaw, the crack of bone against bone sharp and satisfying. He dropped to a knee, clutching his face.

“Fuck you,” I hissed, and drove my knee into his nose.

Blood sprayed as he reeled back, coughing and spitting crimson onto the pavement.

“It’s a competition, you fucking psycho bitch,” he snarled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

I knelt, grabbing the front of his suit and yanking him in close, my face inches from his bloodied one.

“You almost killed her. ”

“She gave me the wrong pieces,” he spat. “If anyone’s a murderer, it’s her. Vera is dead because she tricked me.”

“No,” I growled, fury thick in my throat. “You don’t get to claim that. You got your partner killed because you couldn’t be bothered to earn your win. You stole. You cheated. And it cost a life.”

Before he could respond, he jerked his head forward, headbutting me. Pain bloomed across my cheekbone. I surged forward again, ready to tear him apart. But hands gripped my arms, pulling me back.

“Enough!” Thorne barked.

Ezra grabbed my other side, but he wore a satisfied smirk at the state I’d left Devrin in. Bex was there too, breath ragged, eyes wide. Her gaze met mine. Calm. Steady. Forgiving.

“It’s okay, Briar,” she promised, and just like that, the fight bled out of me.

I let them pull me back, let them lead me toward the waiting cars. One last venomous glare at Devrin, who grimaced through bloodied teeth, before I let it go.

Inside the car, Bex slid in next to me, leaning into my side like it was the most natural thing in the world. I draped my arm around her shoulders, holding her close, feeling the exhaustion in her frame.

“You know what he said isn’t true, right?” I murmured into her hair. “You didn’t cause that.”

She looked up at me, eyes bright with unshed tears, and nodded. “I know,” she whispered.

I pressed a soft kiss to her temple and traced soothing, absent patterns down her back as she drifted off against me.