Chapter 32 · Don't Turn Around

The Crown's dead. Nox isn't.

It's spreading across the cage floor like oil on water, black light bleeding into every crack, every shadow, and I can feel it pulling at my ribs. Not asking. Taking.

"Mara." Sloane's voice cuts through the noise—crowd screaming, cameras still rolling, producers yelling into their headsets. She's three feet away but she sounds farther. "You need to let me in."

I shake my head. Can't talk. Nox is in my throat, in my lungs, crawling up the walls and I don't know how to pull it back.

"The bond." Sloane steps closer. Her blade familiar's already dismissed, both hands empty, palms up. "You let me share the load or this whole district goes dark. Your call."

Kade's shouting something from the med corner but I can't hear him. The feed's still live. Ten million people watching Nox eat the arena and me standing in the middle like an idiot.

Sloane's right. I know she's right.

But letting her in means she feels what I feel. Sees what I see. And Nox has been whispering things in Mom's voice for weeks now, things I haven't told anyone.

"Mara." Sloane's hand reaches for mine.