head in the game. I need to deal with Enoch and his coven first, and then I can sort out my new Chosen.
The word Chosen echoes through my jumbled thoughts, and worry tumbles through me like a drunken gymnast. I see my mark, Torrez’s mark, and my other Chosen marks on Torrez’s ring finger, but his rune is nowhere to be seen on me. I turn to my guys and search for any new runes on their hands, but there’s nothing. My stomach sinks. I press down the unease that crawls through me.
Did I mess up somehow and not complete the connection with Torrez?
“Vinna?” My name on Enoch’s lips is both a question and a demand for answers, but I still don’t have shit that I can say that explains any of this. I don’t know how he has runes. Or why they’re different or what the fuck any of it means for me or for them.
I scrub at my face, my hands cold against my fevered skin. I’m fucking tired and reeling from everything that’s going on. I turn back to Enoch and the unfamiliar runes that he and his coven now have.
“I don’t know,” I admit unhelpfully, and the room explodes into a giant argument again.
Aggression and fury whip out from the guys, snapping toward Enoch, Kallan, Nash and Becket. It hits its mark, but Enoch and the others just ball it up and throw it back. Aydin and Evrin are trying—and failing—to get control of either side. Their calm words volley back and forth, only to fall to the ground and get trampled by rage and insults.
“Could they be from another Sentinel?” I toss out, but I’m pretty sure no one besides Torrez—who is currently way too interested in sniffing my shoulder right now—can hear anything I’m saying over the yelling that’s going on.
It’s possible somehow that their runes aren’t mine. I have suspected in the past that my Last Sentinel status might not be completely accurate, but there’s no way of knowing if these mystery runes are proof that I’m right. Well, not unless the hypothetical mystery Sentinel knocks on the door right now with a “my bad, let me just take these guys off your hands.” That would be pretty definitive.
Or, my exhausted mind counters, maybe the mystery Sentinel can’t come knocking on the door because they’re not nearby? I don’t know the ins and outs of selecting Chosen, but if I can mark Torrez or others simply because I want to, can other Sentinels send their magic out into the world and have it mark the best match for them?
Can selecting Chosen work like some kind of primitive Sentinel Bachelorette? Only instead of a rose and a sham engagement, the Chosen get a lifetime commitment—whether they want it or not—and a fuck ton of new magic and abilities? Did I somehow magically facilitate a match? An image of me holding a clipboard, wearing a Chris Harrison-esque suit, while women sing “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” to me, flashes through my mind. I shake away the weird ass picture and focus on the here and now.
I need caffeine or, better yet, sleep. I’m on the verge of going bat shit crazy.
Knox and Bastien are spitting out threats and struggling against Aydin, Evrin, and the rest of my Chosen, trying to get to Enoch and his coven. I take a deep breath and let the tension and fight leak out of my body. I relax in Torrez’s arms, and on my second deep exhale, he lets me go, clearly trusting that I’ve now gained control of myself. I step into Bastien and Knox’s line of sight, and Knox looks at me as I square off with him and the rest of my Chosen. Bastien doesn’t seem to see anything other than Enoch, Nash, Kallan, and Becket, who he very clearly wants to rip apart. Indignation and hurt flash through Knox’s eyes, and I want to punch my magic hard for making Knox feel that way.
I activate the runes that allow all of us to speak mentally, and shout, “Stop!” The guys cringe at the invasive volume of my command, but it has the desired effect, and they turn their attention to me. Frustration and anger radiate off each of them in thick waves, and before I can even open my mouth to say anything, Knox cuts me off.
“Don’t you fucking say it, Vinna.” He shakes his head vehemently. “I won’t accept them.”