Page 23

“And are you more determined than ever to win those resources for him?”

I didn’t look away. “Of course I am.”

She smiled, satisfied, the trap snapping shut.

“And why do you feel you have the best chance to win?”

I stepped straight into her scripted segue, my voice steady. “Because I have a team.”

Her face lit up like I’d handed her the final piece of a puzzle. “And what a team it is!” she turned toward the audience with a dramatic sweep of her hand. “Shall we bring out the Wildguard?”

The crowd erupted, but all I could think of was Jax’s face on that screen, and the knowledge that Praxis was watching us all.

The studio practically shook from the cheers.

My heart pounded as I turned my head toward the side of the stage. And then, there they were.

Ezra, Briar, and Thorne strode into the light, each of them stunning in their own right. Ezra wore his dark button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his forearms dusted with fresh bruises and scratches, but he carried them like medals. Briar had gone sharp and sleek, her tailored jacket hanging open over a tight black corset top, silver chains catching the light at her throat. Thorne, of course, looked like sin and defiance wrapped in leather, his jacket slung over his broad shoulders, his dark shirt clinging to lean muscle.

They looked untouchable. Like they hadn’t almost drowned hours ago. Like they hadn’t been one wrong move away from death.

They crossed the stage toward me, and for the first time all evening, the ice in my chest cracked a little.

Thorne moved ahead of the others, claiming the seat beside me with an easy grin. He shot the others a wink, playful, cocky, before draping an arm over my shoulders and pulling me in. The familiar warmth of his presence, the casual protectiveness of the gesture, grounded me.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just them?” Annalese teased, fanning herself dramatically and earning another wave of whoops and hollers from the audience. The room felt like it vibrated with the sound, the pulse of the crowd thrumming against my skin. “You four have been the talk of the trials,” she continued, her grin wide and knowing. “I mean… have you ever seen this much chemistry outside of the science based trials?” She winked, and the audience roared with laughter.

Then she turned those sharp, glittering eyes on me. “Tell me, Brexlyn,” she said, leaning in just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. “What’s the story with you four?”

I glanced at my Wildguard. Ezra with his steady, unreadable gaze, his mysterious mask firmly in place. Briar offered me the faintest, reassuring smile, and Thorne, ever cocky, gave me a wink and a shoulder nudge. For half a second, my eyes flicked beyond the cameras to where Zaffir stood, arms crossed, watching me. His jaw was tight, and when our gazes locked, he gave the smallest smile. One meant for only me.

“They’re my team,” I said, my voice soft but steady. “They’ve risked their lives for me. And I’d do the same for them.”

“Awww,” Annalese cooed, as the audience sighed and clapped at my answer. “But, please, for the love of Nexum, put us out of our misery and tell us, is there a little romance budding here?” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, grinning like a predator who knew she’d just cornered her prey.

I took a long, steadying breath. My stomach knotted, my pulse a relentless drum beat beneath my skin. The images they’d no doubt already seen flashed through my mind, Ezra’s kiss, Briar’s desperate lips on mine in the canals, the near-scandalous moment with Thorne pressed against me in the dark in the Wilds. No amount of clever editing could erase the way we looked at each other when we thought no one was watching.

“Do you want there to be?” I shot back with a crooked smile, trying for cheeky even as my heart stuttered against my ribs. The crowd loved it, shrieking and whistling.

Annalese let out a delighted laugh, clapping her hands. “Let’s run the clips!”

The lights dimmed, and all eyes turned to the massive screen behind her. A soft, swelling instrumental played as a montage unfolded, and my heart lodged somewhere high in my throat.

It started simple. Ezra holding my hand in his as we exited the train. Thorne as he spun me around at the Welcome Ball, his eyes never leaving mine. Briar kneeling beside me in the Wilds, her hands gentle as she cleaned the wound on my cheek. Then came the things I hadn’t noticed, stolen glances I never felt, lingering touches I hadn’t realized lingered too long. The way they studied me when I wasn’t looking. They way they watched me like their world revolved around my movements.

Ezra watching me as the sun rose over Praxis, his face softening in a way he never let the world see. Thorne sitting beside me while I slept on the forest floor, his eyes only on me. Briar trailing behind me in the forests, a half-smile playing at her lips as I navigated us back to Praxis.

Then there was me.

The way my face crumpled when Ezra was bitten by that wolf. The reverence as I tended to the wound. The panicked way I scrambled to Briar when she nearly fell in the produce trial. The bright, unguarded laughter I gave to every ridiculous thing Thorne said. The way I stared at Briar as she hummed. I thought I’d been careful. I thought I’d hidden it well. But up there, laid bare for everyone to see, it was painted clear as sunrise.

Then came the kisses. Ezra pulling me in with a look that claimed me as his, and me falling into it like I’d been waiting my whole life. The crowd erupted. Then Briar, drenched and desperate, finding me in the canals. That kiss was frantic, the kind you give when you think it might be your last.

The montage ended with a shot of the four of us crammed into the back seat of the limo, Ezra’s head tipped against mine, Thorne’s arm slung over my shoulders, and Briar’s hand resting over mine in my lap. It was quiet and intimate in a way I hadn’t realized the cameras had caught. The music faded out, leaving only the sound of the crowd’s sighs and scattered cheers.

And it was only then, in the echo of the music and the spotlight of a thousand watching eyes, that I realized I was crying. Silent, hot tears slipping down my cheeks. Not from embarrassment. Not from fear. But from the terrifying, aching certainty that I loved them. All of them. In ways I didn’t know how to carry in a world like this.

I blinked hard, the sting of tears blurring the screen for a beat before I lifted my gaze and found Zaffir. Behind the cameras and the blinding lights, his eyes were already on me. His usual sharp, unyielding expression had cracked, just for a heartbeat. I saw it in the way his brow softened, in the flicker of something tender and aching in his gaze.

He’d made that montage. I knew it in my bones. No one else could have strung those moments together with that kind of care, with that kind of quiet, aching intimacy. It was too deliberate, too personal, too much like someone who knew the weight of every stolen glance and every touch that lingered.

I smiled at him. A thank you written on the curve of my lips. And something more. A message I hoped he’d catch that said ‘the only thing missing was you’.

“I’ve never seen a better love story,” Annalese squealed, practically bouncing in her seat. The audience hooted and hollered in agreement, their energy crackling through the studio like a live wire.

“Wildguard,” she grinned, turning her attention to them, “talk to me. How did this even happen? How do four hearts even find love in the middle of the trials?”

Thorne was the first to speak, his voice easy and unguarded in that way only he could manage. “I think it’s no mystery to anyone watching how damn special she is,” he said, gesturing toward me with a soft, crooked smile. “Anyone who’s got eyes would fall for her. We just had the privilege of being close enough to convince her to fall back.” He was playing it up for the crowd, but I recognized some truth behind the performance.

The crowd let out another chorus of awws and cheers.

Annalese, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, leaned forward. “And there’s no jealousy? I mean, Thorne… she’s kissed the other two now at this point, but not you.” Her voice dripped with mock scandal, like she was setting a match to dry kindling.

“No jealousy at all, Annalese,” he replied playfully.

“You’re not desperate for a kiss?” she teased. “Because I think we all are, aren’t we?” she said, riling up the audience again into a loud roar.

“Kiss her! Kiss Her! Kiss Her!” They cheered.

“You’re right,” Thorne replied smoothly, the crowd rushing to hear his every word. His gaze cut to mine, electric and impossibly tender. He stood, slow and deliberate, like every movement was choreographed for maximum effect.

Then he looked at the screen behind us, now dark, and smirked. “And according to that little highlight reel, it looks like I’ve got a hell of a lot of catching up to do.”

The crowd roared. My heart hammered.

Before I could process it, he reached for me, his hand sliding into mine, warm and steady as he pulled me to my feet. His other hand settled on my waist, sending a jolt of heat through me, and my palms found his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath his shirt.

“What d’you say, love?” he asked, his voice loud enough to be carried to the crowd. “Wanna help me even the score?”

Then, softer, lips brushing the shell of my ear, “Let them have their spectacle, love. But later, I'll show you what a real first kiss feels like.”

I nodded, completely dazed, drowning in the storm of it, the blinding lights, the electric pulse of the room, the hunger in his touch.

Thorne grinned, wicked and breathtaking, then dipped me without warning. I gasped, my fingers fisting in his shirt as his mouth found mine. The world dropped away, the lights, the cheers, the cameras, until there was only the press of his lips, the brush of his tongue against mine, the intoxicating taste of him.

I didn’t care who was watching. I kissed him like I meant it.

When he finally pulled away and set me upright, my chest was heaving, my lips tingling. I barely registered the sound of the crowd’s wild cheering or the smug grin on Annalese’s face.

“What a kiss,” she purred, clapping as the audience lost their minds.

I darted a glance toward Ezra and Briar, both of them watching, not with jealousy, not with anger, but with a kind of resigned joy. Like they were proud of Thorne for claiming his moment. Like they were proud of me for letting him. It made my heart twist, made my pulse pound in my throat as I sank back onto the couch beside them.

But Annalese wasn’t finished.

“So, Brexlyn,” she purred, leaning in like a cat that had cornered a mouse. “No reservations? None at all?” Her voice dripped with sugar, but the sharpness beneath it was unmistakable.

I met her stare, forcing a steady breath past the knot in my chest. “None,” I said. And it wasn’t a lie.

“So, you know these people,” she pressed, her gaze flicking to each of them before returning to me. “You know what they’re capable of? You’re not just swept up in the adrenaline of it all?”

I swallowed hard, the air suddenly thick. I felt Thorne’s pinky brush against mine.

“I know everything I need to know,” I replied evenly, even though something in the pit of my stomach turned cold.

Annalese’s smile stretched wider, and I knew then she’d been leading me to this moment the entire interview. “Well,” she said, sitting back like a queen about to watch the walls crumble, “that’s good. Because if I were going to fall for a murderer… I’d want to be sure too.”

The room seemed to freeze. A collective, sharp inhale from the crowd. My heart stopped dead.

I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

And then, slowly, inevitably, I turned my head to look at Ezra.

His eyes were already on me. Wide. Haunted. A thousand things in them, fear, apology, hope, love. No excuses. No denial. Just a desperate look that said please, please don’t look away.

The silence stretched.

I felt Briar shift beside me, Thorne tensed like a coiled wire.

“He’s got a body count. How can you trust him?” Annalese pressed.

The question sliced through the air, through me. Every eye in the room snapped to Ezra, his expression unreadable, save for the flicker of fear that passed through his gaze before he schooled it away. The audience held its collective breath, waiting for me to crack, to recoil, to deliver the betrayal they hungered for.

I stared into Ezra’s eyes. The world narrowed until it was just us. Every memory between us flashed like lightning.

A choice.

A line in the sand.

I knew who he was, or at least the part the world wanted me to fear. But I also knew who he’d been to me. And whatever darkness lived in his past, I’d seen worse.

I turned slowly to Annalese, my voice steady as stone. “I’d argue Praxis has a higher body count than anyone,” I said, letting the words hang heavy in the room, “and yet here we all are… trusting them.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Thorne stiffened beside me, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might shatter. Briar’s fingers curled into fists against her thighs. Ezra went impossibly still, his face pale, eyes locked on me like he wasn’t sure whether to thank me or mourn me.

And Zaffir looked like he was about to be sick.

I’d done it. There was no taking it back.

“Well,” Annalese forced a brittle laugh. “That’s a bold statement.”

“My story isn’t a happy one,” Ezra said, his voice low but steady, slicing through the tension like a drawn blade. The cameras shifted, the crowd leaned in, and for the first time in this entire farce of a show, no one was looking at me.

They were looking at him.

“There’s death in my history,” he went on, his gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of his words dragging the air heavier with each syllable. “But not by my hands. Not the way you seem to be alluding to, at least.”

I opened my mouth, “You don’t have to-”

He stopped me with a sad smile. “I do.”

He took a breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, every inch of him stripped bare in a way I don’t think anyone had ever seen before.

“I had a best friend,” he began quietly. “His name was Kade. We grew up together, same small corner of Canyon, same trouble, same scraped knees and empty pockets. When the resources dried up and people started choosing themselves to look out for, we chose each other. Moved in together when we were old enough. Shared everything. He was my family when I didn’t have one left.”

The room hung on his words, the mysterious, silent man finally speaking more than a sentence. Even Annalese stayed quiet.

“When times got bad, we took whatever jobs we could find. Last winter, the only work left was in the mines outside the southern barricades. Dangerous work. Shoddy equipment, collapsing shafts. Everyone knew it was a death trap, but if you wanted to eat, you didn’t get to be picky.” I knew the mines he spoke of. I’d almost considered working there myself when Jax was growing up and needing to eat more than I could scavenge or afford.

He swallowed hard, his jaw working like he was fighting a war behind his teeth. “I was supposed to be on shift that day. Me. Kade wasn’t even on the schedule. But I’d gotten sick, some fever that had me seeing double. I was trying to tell the foreman I couldn’t go down, and he’d threatened to fire me if I left him short staffed, but Kade… he just grabbed his gear and said, ‘I got you, Ez. You’d do it for me.’ And then he went. ”

I felt my throat tighten. Ezra’s voice cracked just a little, but he kept going.

“There was a collapse. Shaft Nine. They buried him alive down there with seven other men.” He stared out at the crowd now, his expression sharp, eyes glassy but unyielding. “When we finally got down there and dug them out… Kade was….”

Someone in the audience let out a quiet, broken sound.

“But it wasn’t an accident,” Ezra continued, his voice colder now. Sharper. “The supports were rotten. The emergency systems failed. The reports said they knew it was unstable, they recommended serious repairs before it was fit for work again, but it was cheaper to send men in anyway.”

A ripple of horror moved through the room.

“I found proof,” Ezra said. “Receipts, reports they tried to bury. Testimonies. I went to the authorities, to the press. I thought… I thought if I showed them, if I screamed loud enough, someone would do something.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “They did something alright.” The tension in the room drew tighter.

“They planted evidence,” Ezra spat. “Made it look like I sabotaged the shaft. That I’d rigged explosives to cause the collapse. Said I had a grudge against the company, against Kade. That I’d killed him.”

I felt a chill run through me as his eyes locked on mine.

“They charged me with murder in a sham of a trial. Blamed me for the death of the only person I ever trusted.”

A stunned, strangled kind of silence settled over the room. No one dared breathe.

“I might be the reason he’s dead,” Ezra breathed, voice quiet now, almost a whisper meant for me alone. “But I didn’t kill him.”

I reached for him, gripping his hand in mine. Ezra clung to me like I was the only thing tethering him to solid ground .

The crowd sniffled, a few people openly sobbing. Someone from the back shouted, “We still love you, Ezra!” and just like that, the tide turned. He bared his soul to them, for me, to cover the wreckage I caused with my reckless mouth. And I hated myself for it.

He brought my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. I squeezed his fingers tighter.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my throat tight.

“It’s okay,” he murmured back, though we both knew it wasn’t.

Another wave of “awws” rolled over us, the crowd so easily swayed, so quick to forgive what moments ago they would’ve killed for. How fickle they were. How blind.

“Thank you for sharing that piece of you, Ezra,” Annalese said, her hand clutching her chest like some self-appointed martyr. As if she wasn’t the one who’d nearly gutted him in front of everyone.

“Unfortunately,” she continued with a bright, brittle smile, “that’s all the time we have for tonight, folks! Thank you, Wildguard, for joining us. We’ll be cheering you on, won’t we?”

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, but the sound rang hollow in my ears. Because I could already feel Jax’s medicine slipping further out of reach. Briar and Thorne, marked by association. Zaffir, who hadn’t even said a word, painted a traitor by proximity. And Ezra… Ezra, who’d just salvaged us all with his own bloodied history, would carry the heaviest weight.

I’d signed my death warrant tonight. Maybe all of ours.

The noose was tightening. And it was my fault.