Ruthless 🗡️/ Fourth Wing

Chapter 32

As I stood there, watching the crimson water swirl down the drain, the number seven echoed in my mind like a drumbeat—a reminder of the lives I'd taken. Seven. Each death a shadow I couldn't outrun. They weren't all innocent, but their souls still weighed heavily on me. The guilt was a constant companion, whispering in the quiet moments, even as I scrubbed the remnants of blood from my skin.

Stepping out of the shower, I faced my reflection, but it felt like staring at a stranger. My body, familiar yet foreign, seemed to distort under my gaze. I traced the lines of my form, seeking something in the curve of my shoulder, the sharpness of my jaw, but the mirror held no answers—just a fleeting image, a hollowed version of the woman I thought I was.

The relic, that cursed mark from my youth, remained etched into my skin. It was there, winding like the black ink of the dragon from my arm to my chest, a permanent reminder of the past I couldn't escape. My hair, soaked and heavy, framed my face in wet ebony strands, the darkness pulling me into itself. And there, on my back, a scar lingered—an old wound that no amount of time had healed. A badge of battles fought, of survival.

I stepped away from the mirror, a delicate balance inside me—the warrior, the woman, the strength and vulnerability. Both sides fought for dominance, and I was never sure which would win. I had to walk that line carefully, or I might fall into the shadows, consumed by the darkness I wore like a second skin.

Wrapping the towel around myself, I left the bathroom, only to freeze when I saw Xaden seated on my bed. His fingers traced the delicate engravings of my dagger, the lamplight casting deep shadows on his face, making his features look more somber than I had ever seen.

"I could have been indecent," I joked, trying to break the tension with a light laugh. But the air between us was thick, and my attempt fell flat.

"Nora," he said softly, not looking up, but his voice was steady. "I've seen you in everything, and I've seen you in nothing. There's no such thing as indecent with you."

His words lingered, heavy and unspoken, as though there was something more he wanted to say—something we both were avoiding. But the silence between us spoke louder than anything. There was an unspoken bond between us, forged through battles, loss, and survival. But I could feel the weight of something deeper in the air.

I moved to sit beside him on the bed, the weight of my damp towel, my unease, and his unreadable expression pressing down on me. "I've known you for years, Xaden. I can tell when something's bothering you," I said, my voice low but firm.

He looked at me then, the mask of stoicism slipping for just a moment. Vulnerability flickered in his eyes, but he quickly composed himself, and the walls went back up.

"Would you like to put something more than just a towel on?" he asked, his tone gentle but persistent, the hint of concern buried under his usual calm.

"No, I look good in everything, per your words," I replied, my resolve firm even as uncertainty gnawed at me.

Xaden's expression darkened, the flicker of concern turning into something more dangerous, more determined. He looked at me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

"We leave at first light," he said, his voice low and decisive.

I raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?" I asked, though I already had a suspicion.

"Because there are people out there who want you dead," Xaden replied, his words like a blade, cutting through the tension. "They want your head on a stick and the rebellion to burn. And I will not let that happen."

The gravity of his words settled over us like a suffocating weight. His vow was clear, and though I knew it well, hearing it out loud made it real in a way I couldn't ignore. We were at war, but this—this was personal.

"Yes, I'm well aware. I heard Kai," I said, my voice tight, as the image of him, our strained history, and everything that had led us to this point, filled my mind.

Xaden's gaze hardened as he leaned in slightly, his voice steady, unwavering. "They want more than your death, Nora. They want everything. Your legacy. Your future. They want to crush the rebellion, but they'll start with you."

I pressed him further, the dread in my gut twisting. "And what else? What's their endgame, Xaden?"

His jaw clenched, the intensity in his eyes never wavering as he looked me over with an unspoken promise. "I don't like Kai. But he and I, we want the same thing. We both want you safe."

Relief washed over me, mixed with a sense of caution. As much as I disliked the idea of seeking refuge with Kai, there was a cold comfort in knowing that he'd protect me—his hatred for Xaden aside.

"But that doesn't mean I like him," Xaden added, his voice softening ever so slightly. "Kia and I may be aligned now, but it wasn't always that way."

My brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"We've fought, long before all this." His voice darkened, a hint of old pain lining the edges of his words. "We were in the same grade school Ashenhold School of Warfare. My father started the rebellion, and Kai and I were... rivals. We never saw eye to eye but then I left and never had to deal with him again."

The Ashenhold School of Warfare was not just any school—it was the heartbeat of Navvarea's military elite, where only the finest students—those from noble or influential families—were ever permitted to enter. It was the gold standard of military education, with a curriculum that produced not just warriors, but commanders of armies. The price of entry was steep, and getting in without the right connections or status was nearly impossible. But for those who succeeded, the rewards were unparalleled.

Built into the side of the imposing Ashenhold Mountain, the school was both a fortress and a sanctuary for the privileged few who had the honor of attending.

I shook my head, frustration creeping into my voice. "But you're like that with everyone. I don't understand why this one's different."

Xaden met my gaze, his expression softening in a way I didn't expect. "With Kai, it's... personal. We're both too stubborn. Too dominant. We fight for control. But in the end, we both want the same thing."

I sighed in exasperation, the frustration bubbling up. "It always comes down to an alpha fight between the two of you," I muttered, pushing myself off the bed, towel still wrapped around me as I headed back to the bathroom.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror again. Xaden's words lingered in the back of my mind, a sudden realization hitting me like a bolt of lightning.

Wait a minute...

If Xaden and Kai went to the same school, that meant he knew the language. He knows the origin. 

"Motherfucker," I muttered under my breath, the pieces finally falling into place.

It hit me then, why I'd never feared the monsters under my bed. It wasn't because they didn't exist—it was because they had always been in my head.