Page 3 of Wicked (Dark Delights #5)

Sloan had sworn that day and every day since that the traitors were responsible for the kalmach and the possessors storming HQ.

Most everyone believed him, assuming the traitors and their demons were to blame somehow, but Isaac wasn’t so sure.

He remembered seeing the traitors fighting the possessors and the kalmach, but…

Sloan’s word was law. Isaac wasn’t meant to question him.

“We were all there,” Isaac said blithely. “We don’t need a recount.” He leaned back against the chair—and pain lanced through his back when the movement made the bruises on his back ache. He leaned forward again, propping his chin on his fist.

Cyrus turned to shoot Isaac a pissy look.

“Four people have left the guild to join the demons,” Daniel said. “Sloan takes that as an insult.”

“It’s four people ,” Cyrus said scornfully. “Hardly enough to worry about. And they didn’t join the demons. They just left the guild. None of those guys are the type to knowingly join some conspiracy against the guild.”

“Try telling that to Sloan,” Daniel said grimly.

“They are with demons, though,” Isaac pointed out, albeit hesitantly. “So they kind of did join the demons? In a way?”

“They didn’t attack us, is my point,” Cyrus said. “They helped us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Daniel chimed in. “Sloan has got enough people believing they’re the enemy. He’s on the warpath, and rumor is he’s planning to make a move soon.”

That wasn’t new. Sloan had wanted to strike at the halflings since Hawk was banished for fucking one.

Luke, too. Isaac didn’t know for sure if that was the case with the others.

Things were more contentious than ever after Nathan’s departure.

This little group had no idea how dangerous this meeting truly was.

“What do we do?” Aidan asked. “I don’t want to hurt Alex or Nate. They can say whatever they want about them, but I worked side by side with both of them for years. They’re not bad people.”

“Sloan wouldn’t ask you to hurt them,” Isaac said, folding his arms on the table.

He didn’t know how things would play out, but he was certain Sloan would keep Nathan and Alex’s old shield-brothers as far away from them as possible.

He didn’t want to risk anyone else falling for whatever temptations the demons had been using to lure them away.

Anyone Nate and Alex knew from the guild were possible weak links.

“I don’t think we should meet like this again,” Cyrus said, his dark eyes cool and assessing. “I appreciate what you’re all doing by calling us together, but every time we meet, we risk putting a target on our backs. It’s better if we keep our heads down and pretend everything’s fine.”

Hope bloomed in Isaac. If Cyrus could talk them into stopping this, Isaac wouldn’t have to report to Sloan about this shit anymore.

“But it’s not fine,” Daniel said, cutting a hand through the air in frustration. “Nathan thought somebody needed to speak up. If we stay quiet, things will only get worse.”

“Nathan’s gone,” Cyrus said, standing. “He tried speaking up. He tried brokering a truce. It didn’t work.

So you can either keep your head down, or you can follow Nate out the door.

Either way, these meetings have to stop, at least for now.

Don’t text me again unless it’s for an emergency.

In fact, it might be better to lose our numbers entirely. ”

“You really want to just knuckle under and go along with what Sloan’s planning?” Aidan asked, carding a hand through his chestnut hair. “You know he’ll strike back at them for daring to come here.”

“Even though we definitely needed help,” Daniel added under his breath.

Yes, Isaac thought. Please don’t meet like this again. The less he had to report, the better.

“Yes,” Cyrus said matter-of-factly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“What are eight of us going to do against the might of the guild? People are scared and pissed off. If we try to take a stand, they’ll squash us.

Now isn’t the time. Maybe there won’t ever be.

We just have to accept that. We’re all here, working for the guild, for our own reasons.

If you want to keep doing the work, you obey orders, whether you like it or not.

If you can’t stomach the direction Sloan is taking us, you know the way out.

Do like Nate, leave your ring behind, and go.

Sitting here and bemoaning the facts will only wind up getting us all caught.

Frankly, I don’t see enough reason to walk away yet.

Sloan doesn’t have permission from the council to go after the traitors right now, and I’d rather keep working for the guild than cut out on my own.

Doesn’t mean I like it, but I’ll do it. I suggest you all decide where your lines are, and until Sloan crosses them, keep your head down and your mouth shut. ”

Now was his chance. Isaac pushed out of his chair and moved toward the door, too.

“I agree with Cyrus. Not for the same reasons,” he cast a careful look at the other man, whose brow twitched upward as though in challenge.

“Meeting like this is dangerous. I think we should avoid doing it for a while, just to be safe. It helps to know that we’re all on the same page, but unless we have a plan, this does nothing but put us all in danger.

We should get out of here and get back to work before anyone notices we’re missing. ”

Daniel sighed. “Fine. Dismissed, then.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Isaac slipped out of the room on Cyrus’s heels.

Neither of them said a word. Cyrus was something of a loner.

In fact, Isaac was surprised he bothered to have an opinion about the traitors at all.

Like he said, they all had their reasons.

Isaac’s were just more external than most.

Outside, the early morning sunlight was in full bloom, warming the grounds and casting the world in shades of gold.

Cyrus headed toward the training yard, and Isaac chose the opposite direction purely for the sake of being alone.

The route took him around the back of the administrative building, and he eyed the jail in the distance.

The real culprit who had led Amon and the possessors here was locked up inside.

Andrew Weston. He’d carved himself up with a tracking spell to allow Amon to find him even behind the blessed wall of HQ.

A simple pipe bomb to the wall had demolished enough of the wards to render them all ineffective.

How much longer would they hold him here?

Isaac didn’t know what the council planned to do with him.

He’d like to see Weston bleed, personally, but they didn’t usually care what he wanted.

Weston’s blood would look very pretty painted on the wall.

That was why no one asked him.

“Paladin Morrow.” Sloan’s baritone voice called him to a stop as he approached, his mouth set in a tight line. He carried a plastic tupperware container in his hands.

Anxiety shot through Isaac. Did Sloan know about his punishment this morning?

Isaac glanced over his shoulder, but none of the dissenters were visible. “Commander. What brings you out here at this hour?”

He brandished the container. “Breakfast for the prisoner. I don’t want to pawn the job off on someone else. It seems too distasteful to make anyone else deal with him.” He nodded toward the administrative building. “Where are you coming from? I didn’t see you in the cafeteria.”

Something unpleasant coiled in Isaac’s gut that he couldn’t identify, and he ignored it.

The guild taught him right from wrong. Reporting to Sloan couldn’t be wrong.

“The rebels snagged me from the cafeteria a little while ago for a meeting. Not much was said. I think they just wanted to commiserate over Nathan leaving.”

Sloan’s expression soured. “Yes. That was unfortunate. I should’ve known better than to let him go anywhere near the traitors.”

He felt compelled to add, “Cyrus in particular seemed ready to be done with the whole thing. He told them to lose his number.” He chuckled. “Actually, he said we should all lose each other’s numbers.”

“Good. I’m glad to see the dissent isn’t spreading.” Sloan shook his head. “I’m not surprised Nathan and Ira were meeting with such a group, but hopefully now that their influence is gone, the others will fall back in line.”

Isaac nodded. He hoped so, too, if only so he wouldn’t have to be caught in the middle anymore. Moral quandaries weren’t his forte. He’d rather be killing things.

Sloan gestured toward Isaac. “I heard about this morning. Hawley came to me right after.”

Isaac stiffened uneasily.

“You know how we feel about lying.”

“Yes, sir,” he murmured toward the ground. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Sloan’s gaze was heavy. “You know I don’t have a problem with you hunting when you get restless.

I don’t even mind that you enjoy it, although I think a certain amount of respect is due.

It’s a serious job, and it should be treated that way.

And as always, you must be honest with us about these urges of yours.

We don’t want you to slip up and hurt anyone or anything undeserving. ”

“Yes, sir,” he said again. “I understand.” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t I take that to the prisoner for you?” he offered, hoping to finish the awkward encounter .

“No, I couldn’t ask you to?—”

“No, I insist.” He took the container, and Sloan’s shoulders slumped. “He’s an asshole. Let me deal with him this time.”

Sloan chuckled. “Language.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Thank you, Paladin Morrow. I expect to see you running drills this afternoon. Your nighttime restlessness is no excuse for daytime laziness.”

“Of course.” If it would let him leave Sloan’s domineering presence sooner, he’d agree to just about anything.

Sloan turned back the way he’d come, and Isaac wandered over to the jail, letting himself in the cool, underground building. As he descended down the staircase, he opened the container and peeked inside. Scrambled eggs, toast, and a sausage link. This must’ve come from the cafeteria.

“Wakey wakey,” he called as he strolled down the aisle between the empty cells. “Today’s your lucky day, shithead. It’s eggs and?—”

He stopped abruptly in front of Weston’s cell.

The boy’s body was a bloody smear on the floor, twisted and broken.

Blood painted the walls, the floor, the bars.

A pool of it had trickled out into the aisle, congealing just shy of his boots.

Someone had come in here and made his dream a reality. It was beautiful .

Panic followed just as quickly. Would he be held responsible for this?

Before he could move, an arm cinched tight around his middle and fingers circled his throat, cutting off his air. He dropped the container, his hands flying to his attacker’s.

“It’s not your lucky day, shithead,” a sinister voice growled in his ear. “Sounds like you’ve got some things to answer for. Why don’t you come with me?”

The world around them blurred. Color and shadow flashed past his face, dizzyingly fast. All the while, the hand around his throat was unrelenting.

His lungs screamed in pain, and his vision went dark around the edges.

The world finally came to a nauseating stop in a wide, open room.

There were only a handful of lights in the middle of the room, twinkling whimsically. Was that a disco ball…?

And then everything went dark.