Page 2 of Savage Sacrifice (The Savage Six #4)

BLAZE

C omforting someone is not my area of expertise, but I heard what Polaris said, even if I couldn’t stop her. It does nothing to quell the emotions taking root in my gut. My mind won’t settle. Nothing makes sense, and for the first time in my life, I feel backed into a corner with no way out.

I’m the master of finding a way, but this? This is something else entirely.

Yet, hearing Minnie repeat the words I know I heard settles something inside of me. Not enough to center me and fill me with roaring determination, but enough for me to keep my emotions in check.

My instinct is to react without thought, leaving death and destruction in my wake, but knowing there’s a sliver of hope has me contained. For now, at least.

The way Minnie says it, fiery and rich with faith, forces me to take a deep breath to center on what that could mean.

She’s not gone.

My chest lightens.

She. Is. Not. Gone.

I repeat it again and again, letting the words wash over me as they fuel my belief and strengthen my determination.

My devoted would never just leave. Not without cause or a plan.

I stand taller, my chest puffing out as I crack my neck from side to side. I don’t know whether it’s an abundance of hope or not but I feel the connection still. To her. To us.

I know it to be true.

I have to believe it. Otherwise, Lincoln is right, what would the point be? And I refuse to accept that fucker could be right.

With my new-found mindset, I glance around the others and consider whether I can take this task on alone or if I’m going to need help.

Everyone is still frozen in place, locked on Minnie’s words, giving me a moment to really take them in.

Tatum is visibly doing the worst.

His skin is ashy, his pulse rippling at his throat as his fists clench at his sides.

He doesn’t know what to do, to say, to think.

I understand that, but he’s wearing his vulnerabilities for everyone to see.

Although, I feel like if any of us were going to do that, it would be him.

I don’t know his backstory, I don’t know any of them to be fair, but his sadness has always been present, just less noticeable in Polaris’s presence.

Wylder stands to his left, nostrils flared, hands stuffed in his pockets, and head shaking from side to side ever so slightly. He’s deep in disbelief and struggling with the emotions inside of him that need a release. Just like Lincoln. Maybe those two could fight it out. It’s not my problem.

Asher, on the other hand, is nodding to himself as he slowly blinks at Minnie. He’s calculating, considering the possibilities while trying to understand Polaris’s final words.

It’s unreal for all of us. Even Bryony shuffles nervously from foot to foot, and I almost give her a round of applause for still coming over here. But it’s the look in Minnie’s eyes that keeps me rooted to the spot.

I’m a one man show. One man with a devoted and all of her tag-a-longs it seems.

But I’m going to need Minnie’s fire and strength. The belief she feels, it’s rooted deep in my bones too. Besides, I can’t leave them. Not when I haven’t completed the deal set out by The Crow.

Kill the one who mated and marked Polaris.

Tatum.

Well, technically, they all have now. Does that mean I need to take them all out?

I’d rather not.

Simply for the headache that would ensue once Polaris found out. And she would find out. Because I will find her, spank her ass, and tell her myself.

Asher clears his throat, rocking back on his heels as a scream sounds from behind him. The final blood kins seem to be fighting it out in the center of the room, but that means nothing to us now.

“Find her where?” he asks, and my lips part, ready to tell him, but… I don’t actually have the answer.

The slight wobble to Minnie’s mouth confirms that she doesn’t have a response either. But we just need time.

Wylder purses his lips, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he sighs. “Maybe we could have this conversation somewhere else? Then we can fucking breathe, which might help us actually think,” he offers, and for once, I agree with him.

That’s disastrous. Now I’m starting to agree with them.

The moment we shared Polaris at The Aurum changed everything.

“Let’s go,” Lincoln grunts, cutting through my thoughts as he drapes an arm around Minnie’s shoulder.

I note the small smile she offers Bryony, but she remains tucked under her brother’s arm as everyone files out of the assembly hall. I bring up the rear, waiting for Bryony to follow, but she seems unsure. I don’t have time to deal with uncertainty, so I leave her there.

Following the wolves toward the exit, a thought comes to mind and I stop dead in my tracks.

“Wait,” I holler, and everyone pauses, peering back at me with a mixture of confusion and irritation. “Where’s Polaris’s body?”

I was being held back. One minute she was there, the next she was gone.

“Magic,” Tatum murmurs solemnly, and I frown at him. “It’s like she vanished into thin air,” he offers as an explanation, but it still doesn’t help.

“What about the others? Ben was right fucking there with that stupid fucking knife that?—”

“He vanished too. It’s like they last thirty seconds before they’re just… gone.”

Fuck.

“Do we need to be heading to the medical center, or?—”

Wylder’s question is cut off when footsteps rush from behind me. I frown, glancing over my shoulder, but the steps don’t draw any closer and I find a man stumbling over himself.

Running my gaze over him, I spy worn sneakers, simple denim jeans, and a tatty brown blazer.

Black-rimmed glasses frame his eyes, and cropped peppery hair matches his beard.

He all but launches himself against the wall, needing the stability to remain on his feet, but it does nothing to aid his labored breathing or the beads of sweat gathering at his temples.

He splays his fingers out along the wall, searching for purchase, but struggles to gain any. He leans forward, bracing himself as he tries to calm his breathing. If anything, it only becomes more jagged.

I’m ready to turn and give the guy some privacy. I've got more important shit to be dealing with. But Bryony steps out of the assembly hall a moment later, and when her eyes latch onto his, Bryony’s widen with surprise.

I can’t decide if it’s hope or panic that washes over her face as she hurries toward him. She practically skids to a stop in front of him, hands on her hips as she tilts her head. “What’s your name?”

It’s a demand, not a question.

She doesn’t even segway into it by checking that he’s alright, and it’s clear he’s not, but there’s no time to waste.

I don’t glance back at the wolves. Instead, I follow my gut and move toward Bryony as she taps her foot impatiently.

“I asked you a question,” she states, and he feebly waves her off, struggling to breathe.

As I near, the clear distress and panic pours from him. “I think he’s a little preoccupied right now, witch,” I grunt, and she rolls her eyes at me.

“He’s also The Keeper Of the Games, Blaze. I want his name,” she snaps, certain of herself, and my eyebrows rise in surprise.

The Keeper Of the Games.

I’ve never really paid attention to him, he’s never really mattered, but it seems he does to her.

“Why?” I ask, and she glares at me.

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter?”

Her pulse quickens, her heart thundering as she presses her lips into a thin line before slowly exhaling. Instead of answering, she crouches down beside him, looking up to meet his gaze instead. “Do you have children?”

Ah, fuck. I really don’t have time for this. Following my gut usually steers me right, but this is pointless.

Shaking my head, I turn away from them, ready to get the hell out of here, when she bombards him even further.

“I’m asking because my friend, she had a vision of you, a memory, and for a girl who attended Florentine’s, those memories are pretty sacred,” she states, her voice softer now, and I spin back around to face them.

She’s talking about Polaris.

Polaris had a memory of this man?

My jaw ticks as I take him in. He tilts his face ever so slightly in Bryony’s direction and a flash of a vision plays in my mind.

The last assembly for blood kins, when I was hurrying Polaris from the room, she pointed up at the balcony, up at him, and asked me who he was. I didn’t think to ask why. I’m quite certain I simply snarled at her because I was too busy trying to keep her safe.

Fuck.

If she had a memory of him, through the Florentine induced-fog, then Bryony is right, he must have been important somehow.

My interest is piqued, but I don’t have time to pander to him.

Stepping around Bryony, I grab him by his collar, yanking him away from the wall only to slam his back against it. His glasses almost fall from his face, but he doesn’t care. Defeat flashes in his eyes. His chin finds his chest, but I can feel the tension coiling through him.

“Do you know Polaris?” I snap, and his gaze instantly lifts to mine.

His jaw falls slack and his pupils dilate. “Y-you kn-kn-know her?”

I snarl, clenching my fist tighter around his collar as I crowd his space. “You better start talking. Now.”

“Blaze,” Minnie calls out, but I don’t turn away from the man who knows something about my devoted, something I’m not yet privy to, and I don’t like it.

“Let go of my husband!”

I don’t get a chance to see who the screech comes from before I’m launched through the air with a storming blast of magic. I grunt as my back hits the wall, but quickly scramble to my feet to find a woman rushing toward her apparent husband.

She engulfs him in her arms, a sob parting her lips as she checks him over. She pats him down, but she looks just as disheveled as he does.

I don’t move, I can’t. None of us can.

Not when her hair holds all of our attention.

It’s silver.

Just like Polaris’s.

My throat grows thick as I run my tongue over my lip, desperate to assess the situation and take action, but I’m dumbfounded, watching them.

“Idris, I remember,” the woman cries. Her back is to me, but I know there are tears, and instead of tending to them, she runs her thumb over her husband's cheek in comfort.

“Me too, Suzanna. Me too.”

They rest their foreheads together, and I glance at the wolves, only to find them intently watching the pair.

It’s Bryony, who still stands beside them, that finds her voice first. “Wait, what’s going on? Do you know Polaris?”

They freeze for a moment before the woman stands tall, turning to face the questioning witch beside them. My feet carry me toward her until I’m shoulder to shoulder with Bryony, standing in solidarity on behalf of Polaris.

I cock a brow in question, just as eager to know the answer, but one never comes as the woman snaps her fingers and they both disappear.

“What the hell was that?” Minnie murmurs, disbelief thick in her tone, and I turn to face them.

She’s no longer under Lincoln’s arm as she moves toward us, but he’s rooted in place, his face pale.

“I don’t know, but it means something. It has to,” Bryony explains, and Minnie rubs her lips together with uncertainty.

“Could they have been… her parents?” she dares to ask, and I shrug, but it’s Asher who answers.

“Possibly.”

I think we all know there’s no possibly about it. That woman was an older version of Polaris. No doubt.

Lincoln clears his throat, his face as ashy as Tatum’s as we all turn to look at him.

“Speaking of parents,” he starts, scrubbing at the back of his head nervously.

Whatever he’s about to say, I know I’m not going to like it.

I can already sense it in my gut. I almost tell him not to share, but any information is key right now, including whatever this is.

“Polaris was a Florentine, which means…” he starts, but his words quickly trail off, and I’m not sure if he’s running a little nauseous.

I have no idea what’s going on, but it seems Minnie does as she gasps, slapping her hand over her mouth in horror.

“Somebody spit it out,” I bite, and her wide eyes find mine.

“It means my parents were the ones behind her being sent to Florentine’s to begin with.”