“Okay, we can accept that,” one agrees, and I feel my shoulders ease just a little. “But…”
We all pause, eyes narrowing into slits.
“That still doesn’t fix the fact that this place is a fucking wreck. Business needs to continue.”
I raise my chin, squaring my shoulders.
“What do you suggest?”
Just then, I hear a car door open behind them and my eye darts that way.
A man I don’t recognize steps forward, his crisp suit barely creased, and his sharp blue gaze cuts through the crew before landing on Noir, still tucked behind me.
He holds her stare for a beat too long, something strange passing across his face—recognition, maybe. Then his eyes shift to mine.
“I’m bringing my son and his crew in,” he says. “They’ll help rebuild Oddity. Keep shit moving while Madame’s out.”
Soul snarls beside me, stepping forward. “And who the hell are you? Who the fuck’s your son?”
Suddenly, another car door slams open, but the damn headlights are too bright to see shit. All I can hear are the slow, heavy thuds of boots hitting gravel, each step calculated.
But as soon as he steps forward far enough, I feel a low growl rumble in my throat, and I feel Soul goes tense beside me like a coiled spring.
Ruin. From Nocturnique.
Standing tall, broad, and shirtless, his glowing orange eyes slice clean through the night like firelight. His entire body’s lined with black, orange, and purple stripes—painted or inked, who the fuck knows. His face is blacked out with eerie, jagged paint, teeth bared beneath. Black hair slicked back with harsh orange streaks running through like flames licking at his skull.
Like a fucking washed-down version of The Hollows.
“Yeah, no. I don’t fucking think so,” Soul growls, not taking his eyes off Ruin for even a second.
Ruin tilts his head, slow and deliberate, dragging those ember-orange eyes down Soul’s front like he’s sizing up prey.
“I don’t think any of you are in the position to object, Soul,” Ruin’s father says flatly, and all our gazes cut to him.
“Now make sure Wrath gets my daughter back here.”
“Daughter?” Noir says, stepping out from behind me, her voice small but sharp.
I glance down at her, brows pulling, but I’m just as confused as she is.
Both Ruin and his father just stare at her, blank and unreadable, while Noir gawks back, her blue eyes flicking between them, like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle that’s been buried her whole damn life.
What the fuck is going on here? Does this mean Ruin is Noir and Aurelia’s brother?
They don’t even explain. Ruin and his father just share a brief glance, some silent communication passing between them, before turning and walking back toward the car like none of this shit matters.
Ruin throws one last look over his shoulder, straight at Soul. And I glance at Soul too, noticing the way his jaw clenches and fists tighten like he’s one second from snapping.
Their past is fucked and full of hatred. I know that much.
“Hey! What did you mean by daughter?” Noir yells after them, frustration cracking in her voice.
They ignore her, then The Shadows nod once at me before they all begin turning away too, moving like nothing happened.
“We’ll be in touch,” one mutters.
My jaw sets, muscles wired tight, just watching them pile into their sleek cars and reverse out of the carnival like they didn’t just drop a live grenade in our laps and walk the fuck away.