I keep myself cooped up in my apartment for three days, my nerves calming little by little each day I wake up and the lorkins haven't come to collect me for my betrayal. Then I figure it is about time I bite the bullet and visit the House of Horns before they come to me.

Grit and Grubble aren't guarding the doors during this watch and I find myself feeling slightly disappointed to not see them. The other two lorkins on guard duty today both glance at each other as I stroll up to the doors with my lightstick in hand. But they don't reach for the handles or open the doors wide.

For a moment, my heart stops beating, my lightstick trembling slightly before I hold it against my side to keep still.

Be calm. Be cool. Be collected. They know nothing.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?" I ask, even though they are anything but gentlemen.

The taller lorkin with spiky golden hair and deep crimson horns lifts his chin, gazing at me down the bumpy bridge of his nose. "You're back later than they said you'd be," he says. Then he glances at the lorkin next to him. "You owe me fifty shinies."

"Ah," I say, raising one brow. "You're Kazko, right?"

"Yavo," he corrects me.

But I already know this. Reminding him of his unimportance by pretending I don't know his name only boosts the aura of confidence I'm trying to exude. All while I can hear my heart drumming in my ears, a song of impending death once they find me out. I need to get by them before they can sniff out my fears and insecurities, and the fact that I didn't complete the mission their boss gave me, and not to mention that I made a deal with the twisty mage.

I've dug myself a shallow grave. My face grows cold.

"You don't look so good," the other lorkin says, his scratchy voice identifying him as Kazko. His hair is buzzed nearly down to the scalp, his gray horns only growing to the back of his scalp.

They know. Quick. Throw them off.

I clear my throat and straighten my spine, taking a deep breath through my nose. "You try fighting an electric mage that took out four lorkin with a flick of his hand," I say, forcing the tremors from my voice. "Wait." I narrow my eyes at Yavo, suddenly recognizing him from the video Venjo had shown me and go with this divine twist of fate. "Were you one of them?"

Yavo shifts uncomfortably.

I scoff like he is a disgrace and wave my hand dismissively. "Get out of my way."

Kazko nudges Yavo, who has gone as still as his spiky hair, then they both open the doors for me. Their eyes are on me as I pass, their gazes prodding at the back of my skull. Being watched is a feeling that I've become so familiar with, yet still creeps up my spine because one of these days those prodding eyes will be a bullet instead.

The white hallway is noisier than the last time I'd walked it. Muffled shouts and cries echo through one of the doors on my right and the thuds of a fist against someone's face sound to my left. By the time I get to the end, the cries of pain ring in my head, threatening to consume me and break me down into a trembling girl. I steal a moment of time, my hand lingering on the handle of the door. It requires nearly every ounce of courage I have stored away to stop the tremors in my fingers and step into the Hall.

My eyes dart immediately to Jojin's white throne. Empty. In fact, the whole room is empty, aside from the neon fixtures decorating the walls and the scattered black leather couches. Then there is a sudden clink and when I look to my right, I realize that I am not alone.

Venjo Zhane glances up from the pool table and the control I thought I had over my fear quivers. For all I know, he could have smelled my terror at the door. He watches me for a second longer with those intense silver eyes of his, as if he knows every thought running chaotically through my mind. Then he picks up his pool stick and walks around the edge of the table, right toward me. Lorkins are so strong that Venjo could drive the stick straight through my ribcage if he wanted to.

I take a step back, letting my fears run away with me, but he stops and focuses on the remaining pool balls scattered across the table. He bends forward, resting the narrow end of the stick in the groove his slightly clawed fingers.

"You're jumpy today," he says with a growl. He pulls the stick back then strikes the cue ball, the only white ball on the table. The cue rolls, ricocheting off of the inside wall of the table before knocking a red ball into the far corner pocket.

I don't acknowledge his perfect shot.

"Where's Jojin?" I ask, wanting to get it all over with as soon as possible.

"He was called off somewhere." Venjo shrugs his wide shoulders and circles the table again, eying his next shot. "Big rush."

There is something off about his tone. He is usually cold and distant, but he almost sounds as if he is angry with me. But for what?

"And you weren't invited too?" I ask.

"No."

"Any idea when he will be back?" I am only slightly hopeful at this point.

"No."

"Okay, spit it out. What's got your horns twisted in a knot?"

Venjo strikes the cue ball so hard, it flies from the table and a crack breaks through the pool stick. He tosses the stick on the table and faces me with a look of pure hatred in his steel eyes, grinding his jaw as if to hold back a flurry of spiteful things.

"Did you come here just to gloat?" he asks snidely. "You..." He points one clawed finger at me, then sneers and drops his hand back down to his side with a shake of his head. "You don't even realize..."

"I came here to talk to Jojin," I argue. Then I turn to leave. "I'll just come back later." Even though I really don't want to.

"He gave me the same mission." Venjo catches me off guard with this one, making me stop and face him again. "He thought me soft, thought me fragile with an unwillingness to break things that should be broken. Before my father gave the mission to you, it was mine. It was my own to prove my worth to this House."

"Oh." The word falls from my mouth, filling the silence of the Hall.

"And when I failed, when the moment came, and I couldn't pull the trigger, he gave the job to you to prove a point." He shakes his head, a disbelieving smile pulling at his lips as he steps toward me, each slow thump of his boots echoing in the room. "And then you strut in here like killing a person was just a snap of the fingers. Did you like it? Did it make you feel powerful when we both know you're weak?"

"How dare you," I say through my teeth. I want to scream at him that I didn't do it, that he can take his rightful seat by his father's side because I don't want to be there. But this position is the only thing keeping my head on my shoulders.

"I smell your fear." His voice is a threat, his eyes narrowing as he watches my reaction. "It's dripping from you like an overflowing cup of Ether. If you're not careful, the rest of them will eat you up when they return. I hear Zuma specifically loves the smell of fear." He cocks his head to the side as he gazes down at me with a sneer. "What are you so afraid of anyway?"

Just then, one of the far doors slams open.

I turn to face the sound and watch as Grit, Grubble, and a female lorkin enter the room. She is shorter than the brothers, her two ivory horns curling up into sharp points atop her wild, jade green hair. Her ruby lips peel back from her teeth in a snarl when her eyes fall on me. Zuma.

"Great," Zuma says with a clap of her hands. "You're here. This means we don't have to go hunt you down."

Her words slice into me like a volted knife, leaving my heart fried and my body unable to move. There is only one reason they'd have to come for me, yet I am so confused. Had they caught Macon? Or worse...had he betrayed his word?

I glance at Grit and Grubble, but the two lorkins I thought might've slightly cared for me won't meet my pleading gaze.

"What are you talking about, Zuma?" Venjo asks from behind me.

"Grab the elf before she tries to escape," Zuma orders, as if she has the authority.

I flinch when Venjo's hands suddenly wrap around my wrists, pinning my arms behind my back, his dull claws digging into my skin. No one needs to hold me. I am frozen where I stand just from the realization that I can no longer hold up my crumbling walls. Unable to keep myself together, my fear seeps out of me. Sweat beads at my temples, slicking my palms. My face goes cold, but my skin is on fire. The single hope I had left in my existence is shattered.

Macon. The shifty Starfox. I should've known better than to trust the word of a fox. My foolishness is my own demise.

Zuma closes the distance between us, her hips swaying back and forth as her high-heeled boots echo across the white marble floor. Her skin is nearly as white as her horns, but her cheeks hold the slightest rose when she glances over my left shoulder at Venjo.

"This will be your chance," she tells him. Her voice is a smooth seduction, her eyes dancing as if I'm not standing between the two of them.

"For what?" Venjo asks, his stance behind me unwavering.

Zuma doesn't get a chance to answer as the big boss enters the room.

"What are you all just standing around for?" Jojin Zhane roars, the boom of his voice echoing off the walls. He strides to his throne without another glance toward his cronies. "I want every one of you out on the streets with your damned noses to the ground until you find that little elf." Jojin tosses himself in his chair, his clawed fingers tearing into the armrests. "She will curse the day she ever—"

Jojin stops yelling when his eyes slide in my direction. He glances at me with a blank expression on his face, then toward Venjo who still has my wrists pinned behind me. Then Jojin throws his head back in a rumbling laugh that seems to shake the whole room.

"One misfortune leads to another treasure," Jojin muses, placing one sharp claw against his chin. "Bring her here."

Venjo nudges me forward. Zuma smiles excitedly as we pass, her teeth flashing at me, a threat to tear me apart if I make one wrong move. She is delusional if she thinks I am gutsy enough to try anything with Venjo holding both of my wrists with just one of his fists. I briefly wonder if his mind is running as quickly as mine, since only moments before he'd been furious for me completing a mission that he'd failed.

But his grip on me isn't as tight as I thought it would be and lightens the closer we move to his father. Almost as if he is holding back. My mind is so frazzled with my impending doom, some sliver of me believes that he is just afraid as I am. But of what?

Venjo stops me in front of the throne. He lets go of my wrists and steps around me, joining his father at his side without a question as to why I am suddenly being treated this way. The faithful son to a cruel monster of a father.

"On your knees," Jojin growls at me.

I'm sure they can all hear my heart pounding against my ribcage as I lower myself to the ground. It's over. The bright scarlet of my death will stain this white marble floor, and I grimly hope that Zuma is the one who has to clean it up.

"Little Elf," Jojin sings. "Little Elf, you made the worst choice you could have ever made."

There is no way out of this. My death is going to happen as soon as Jojin finishes making a mockery of me. Being so lost beyond the point of return ignites something inside of me, burning away the fear that has overtaken me for the past months of my life. Suddenly, I'm not so afraid to die.

"But at least it was a choice," I say, surprised at the strength in my voice.

"You were abandoned in this city," Jojin scoffs. "You were discarded as trash. I took you in. I made you a lightrunner. I put shinies in your pocket and food in your belly. And when I give you the chance to become one of us, you spit on the opportunity."

My newfound courage is a burst of energy like I've never felt. I look Jojin square in the eye and let him know just how much I detest his words by the fire in my gaze.

"You have a twisted sense of inclusion," I say, my voice even and strangely powerful, reminding me of my own kind for the first time in my life. "Before you, I was lonely in this city, but I was okay. I was fine. You forced me in. You forced me to be a lightrunner. But you will not force me to take a life."

From beside the boss, Venjo stills, his eyes glued to me with an expression I can't read. "Macon Falcove still lives?" he asks, the brashness in his tone slipping away.

"Yes," Jojin answers. "And there were consequences to the elf's betrayal."

"Consequences?" Venjo glances at his father then, worry lacing his features as if the heart inside his chest isn't made of obsidian stone.

"During the late sleeping hours last night," Jojin continues, "a shipment of daybreakers was stopped on the edge of the Cobalt District. The crew was struck by what we can only believe to be lightning, leaving one of them dead."

"Who?"

"I'm sorry Ven—"

"Who!" Venjo's sudden yell makes me flinch.

"It was Ekon." Jojin's voice takes on a rare sincerity as he turns his head toward his son. "He was dead when Zuma and the twins got there. I know he was your friend, Venjo."

But Venjo's eyes had gone cold, the silver of his iris turning to ice. "And the mage?"

"Left with no trace," Zuma answers from somewhere behind me. With my world closing in, she sounds so far away, yet I know she's just a few paces from where I kneel.

"You're positive it was him that did it?" It is almost as if he doesn't want to believe it, even though fury lights his gaze.

"The burns match Yavo's from the other incident," Zuma says. "One Starfox was critically wounded during the attack. Had her leg blown off by a daybreaker. But I got her to talk before she died. Apparently, Falcove was the one who orchestrated the job."

Venjo narrows his eyes at me then, watching for my reaction, but I give him none, even though I'm soaking in the developments of Macon's betrayal to our deal. I refuse to be afraid anymore. Not of him, not of his father, not of any of them.

"Why wasn't I informed of this sooner?" Venjo turns on his father, his anger directed at him with the heat of a sprite dragon's flame. "Am I the last to know? Why am I just now finding out about this?"

"There was no need at the time for—"

"You didn't think I should've known that we were attacked?" Venjo's roar fills the room, surrounding me. He seems to grow before my eyes as his clawed fingers curl into fists at his sides. "You didn't think for a moment that I should know my friend was in trouble? I could have helped. I could have done something. Anything! Why do you have such little faith in me?" His voice drips of pained desperation.

It is as if I'm not even in the room anymore. The revelation that Macon still lives has suddenly slipped away and the empty space is filled with something new—a father's betrayal. I no longer feel eyes prodding at my back. The cloud of death hovering over me shifts and the darkness lets in a slivered ray of hope.

Maybe dying doesn't have to be the only option. Maybe I'm worth more than I believe, stronger than what I've limited myself to. Maybe this is my moment to reclaim myself and my life.

"Answer me!" Venjo yells. "The least you can give me is an answer!"

Jojin moves so quickly, Venjo doesn't have a chance to react. The boss stands from his throne and strikes his son with the back of his hand, making Venjo's head snap to the side. When Venjo slowly turns back to Jojin, three red-streaked lines slice across his cheek. He quickly wipes at the blood with the sleeve of his black shirt, but the scarlet returns, dripping down his cheek like a fallen tear.

This is my moment. This is when I should make my escape. With everyone watching the scene before me, distracted by this new drama, I can use my swiftness to my advantage and be halfway to the door before they notice I've moved.

But I don't budge.

I can't.

Pulling my eyes away from Venjo is impossible. I wonder about the pain that must be ravaging inside of him and find myself wanting to somehow calm the storm, to ease the damage even though he hasn't shown me any kindness since my forced initiation into this House.

I'm no longer frozen by fear. I'm still with sympathy and I hate it because it keeps me pinned to this fate.

Jojin's snarl of a voice swallows the Hall. "What would you have done if I told you?" He pokes one of his long claws at Venjo's chest. "I'll tell you what. You'd have rolled in, ready to defend your brothers of horn, but when it came down to it, you'd do the same as you did the last time. You'd have done nothing." The last word is a hiss.

Venjo won't look at Jojin, or me, or anyone else in the room. He keeps his gaze on the floor, his father's words deflating him, making him seem much smaller than he'd been just moments before.

"Zuma," Jojin suddenly orders. "Take the elf to the Chamber."

There's movement behind me. Zuma's heels click across the marble like a clock ticking down my last moments. Her claws are in my shoulder before I take my next breath, five sharp points piercing my skin through my jacket. I can't stop the groan that escapes through my gritted teeth.

Jojin watches me squirm, a sick delight shimmering in his dark eyes. "Cut off her ears first," he says.

Panic seizes my entire body, holding me down to the floor with the weight of the world. And then my eyes roll back in my head and I feel as though I'm flying when my vision spots and everything fades to black.