Page 284 of Psycho Gods

The bottom of the bunk above my head was also iced over.

After everything that had happened, weirdly, I didn’t feel any sadness.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude that all three of us had survived against unmistakable odds.

When we’d gotten back to the camp, immense relief had bowled me over.

It was over.

All three of us had beaten horrible odds and lived.

It felt like a miracle.

On top of surviving, for the first time in my life, I had closure over why I’d started suffering when I was fourteen years old.

Most of all, I was grateful that my entire soul wasn’t missing like I’d initially thought. A small piece I could handle. It made it a fixable problem.

I’d successfully processed my grief (I was delusional).

The body draped across me like a blanket shifted, and I grunted as they kneed me in the crotch.

“Are you still crying?” Sadie asked as she sniffled and buried her face in the blankets near my head.

“Uh—yes,” I lied, just so she wouldn’t feel alone.

Sadie sobbed, “Me too.”

“I didn’t notice,” I replied. She’d been wailing for hours straight, and I was concerned about how she was still going.

Her labored breathing was loud in the mostly empty bedroom.

She was safe and alive.

In my arms.

Sadie’s mates and the rest of my legion were waiting for us outside in the blizzard. They stayed away outside out of respect for us—Sadie had also threatened to enslave everyone with her blood if they didn’t leave us alone.

The latter had played a big part in them giving us the room.

“Can I leave now?” Jinx asked from the floor beside the bed. She was wrapped in blankets and had bandages around her head. Sadie was holding her hand, and I had my free hand on her shoulder.

Jinx complained but didn’t pull away from our touch.

When I’d woken up after a restful sleep, I’d had startling clarity that Jinx was as much a victim as the rest of us. She’d been beaten and abused by the leaders for years. She’d lost a leg in the Legionnaire Games, just so I could earn my wings.

Jinx was a pawn as much as any of us.

If I could try to forgive Lothaire for abandoning me as a child, then I could do the same for the woman who’d been tortured worse than any of us.

When we needed her, she’d saved us.

A few weeks ago, I would have spiraled at her revelations and moped. I would have refused to forgive her and would have punished us both.

But I wasn’t an empty shell anymore.

A necklace and bracelet pulsed warm against my skin, reminding me that my soul wasn’t as empty. I was connected to the twins.

There was a bit of color in my life, and the cold didn’t feel as pervasive with my best friend lying in my arms.