Page 37 of The Shard and the Serpent (Shard Daughters #1)

Blend In

Rayze

We slam into mud outside The Storm’s border. Rain crashes through a canopy overhead, trees shaking in the wind. Warrick falters between Aleksi and I, and we steady him.

“Fuck,” he says as we release him. He slicks his hair back and peers through the treeline. “Does that get any easier?”

Warrick of Quiet is already talking too much , Sonya warns, and I nod. Aleksi gives me a pointed look and darts out of the trees.

“Shut up, Heir,” I say softly.

“Going for a calming tone now, are we?” He straightens, wrapping an arm over my shoulders and tugging me into his side. “Rayze, I’ll never put your life in danger. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

“You need to include all Daughters in that statement,” I tell him and pull out of his grip. “If you lead us wrong, I won’t have a choice but to cut our Bond and send you back to your father with no memory of us.”

“Give me a number,” he mutters, the leather of his jacket rustling against mine.

“A number?” I lead him out of the trees, Sonya and Aleksi scouting ahead.

“How many do I need to kill tonight to earn a little faith?” Then he tugs on the zipper of my coat, my hand whipping up to stop him. “And how many more until I get to taste you again?”

“Do you think about anything other than bloodshed and sex?” I pull my zipper up and raise a brow.

He grins. “You’re one to talk, vicious. From what I’m gathering, that seems to be your job.”

Aleksi signals ahead, and I press a finger to my lips. Warrick nods and adjusts his jacket, his jaw hard. I don’t trust him, but I do believe he won’t willingly put us in danger. I’d hoped to train him further before ever taking him on a mission, but a little blind faith will need to be enough.

Lightning flashes, illuminating The Storm’s prized cage. The dome encasing Gronem is smooth, welded-shut steel. There are no windows or towers, just vents hissing along its base and the occasional drain pipe.

With Sonya’s intel, we know the dome is open at the top, enough for lightning to strike down into the city and fuel its electrical grid. We also know there’s no climbing the wall without setting off a shit ton of sirens.

That leaves the Underground.

There’s only one entrance into the tunneled labyrinth for The Storm’s sector. It’s caged like Gronem, an iron box built around the tunnel’s mouth. Its bolted front doors are open, a line of naked, shivering silhouettes disappearing over the edge of a hill in the distance.

Skin. At their front, back, and sides—Chrome Guards and cronies.

We drop to our stomachs, the four of us peering over a rock ledge.

“At least two hundred Skin,” Aleksi says. “Maybe fifty Chrome Guards and twenty cronies.” She shakes her head. “There’s too many innocents that could be killed in a blitz attack, and too many assholes that will block our entry.”

I sit up and rip off my coat. “Then we don’t break in. We join them.”

“Angel,” Warrick says, his voice rough among the rain. “They could separate us for processing, and ink like mine and your friend’s will give us away.”

“Then you and Aleksi stay near the back of the cronies and keep your heads down. Steal Serpent vests. Blend in.” I undo my belt. “Like you said, sex and bloodshed is what I do.”

“That might work, but he’s right that we will be separated,” Aleksi pushes.

I stash my coat behind a rock and tear off my weapons. “You can stay here, but I’m getting in that nest.”

“You’re asking me to leave you behind,” Warrick growls. “If I stay near the back of the cronies, I’ll have to fight my way through them to find you.”

“Then fight. You wanted a number, Ivor? All of them,” I spit, his eyes dark. Then I glance at Sonya, who’s been far too quiet. “Slayer, this is your territory. What do you think?”

Even if we wait a year for the next shipment , she says and throws off her coat. We’d still have the same plan. There’s no getting inside without pretending we’re part of the procession.

Aleksi tears off her tricorne, her lips pressed in a tight line of acceptance.

“Take our weapons.” I slide my coat toward her and Warrick, my bow glinting across its back.

“And you don’t think they’ll question those fangs?” Warrick grits out. His fingers dig into the mud, the veins along his neck tensed.

I’ve snuck into Gronem before, Heir. Not into The Womb directly, but the processing is always the same. As long as we’re submissive, they’ll let us in, and most are too fucking wasted to remember their product. Sonya ties her hair back and nods to me.

I quickly interpret.

“And if they do remember you?” he demands.

Then they die . Sonya strips and tosses her whip at him.

Warrick curses, barely dodging its fangs.

Are you sure he won’t be a liability? she asks me. He doesn’t even understand our weaponry or power.

He fought well enough at that slaughterhouse and before in Rathem. I clear my throat and pluck her weapon between my fingers, holding it before my snake. “The fangs are only poisonous if Slayer is holding the whip,” I explain.

He looks between Sonya and I with a frown.

“Same with my spear,” Aleksi says. “They respond to our magic signatures.” Then she snaps her fingers at Warrick. “Give me your jacket. It’ll cover my ink and its far less Rathem than this bullshit.” She yanks off her petticoat.

Warrick exhales and relinquishes his jacket, moving to my coat. “And your arrows, angel?” he asks, freeing them from the lining. He shoves them into his waistband before Aleksi coils Sonya’s whip and places it in the inner pocket of his jacket with her spear.

“They’ll shoot like normal arrows for you if you need them,” I say, but I press my hand over his. “Do me a favor and don’t need them.”

He slings my bow over his shoulders and smirks. “I promise not to break your precious toys. I’ll take a blade off a Serpent.”

I free myself of my tank top, shivering in the rain. The Bond warms me, though, and Aleksi shoves Warrick’s shoulder, forcing him to turn away.

“Don’t watch us undress, pervert,” she says.

Warrick chuckles. “Trust me, Red. There’s only one Daughter I like to see naked.”

My thighs clench as his desire heats the Bond. He casts a dark smile over his shoulder, and I glare at him. “Don’t distract me.”

He swivels around and grips my chin, his playful smile vanishing. “ Don’t fucking die.”

“All of them, my snake,” I remind him, the pet name slipping from me with far too much ease. I stiffen, but he skims his lips over mine in promise.

“Every single one,” Warrick says, his voice low. “Whatever it takes.”