Page 25 of Glutton for Punishment

“I have something that might help.”

I cross the cell before he can question me and retrieve the small stash I hid days ago.

“These,” I say, placing them in his hands. “They’re the Sloth relics that I grabbed when you rescued me from Academy Hollow, remember? I brought them to the trial, and they were still in my pocket when we woke up in the cells. I don’t know what they do—but maybe…”

He turns them over, eyes closed, feeling them rather than looking. Time stretches. Then he sighs and hands them back.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “They haven’t been activated. Only a Sloth can do that. Without its activation…” He trails off. “They’re just stones.”

My chest sinks, but I nod.

“It’s okay,” I say after a moment, returning the stones to their hiding spot. “We’ll take this day by day. Blaise wouldn’t keep testing me if he planned to kill me. That means I have time. I can watch. Learn more about this place. Gather intel.”

He drops his gaze. “I don’t like this, Arwen.” His voice tightens. “I don’t even want to think about you taking more pain.”

“I know.”

“Is there any way—” He hesitates. “Any chance you can reach your power? Like you did when you first woke up here?”

I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know. It feels… broken. Like it’s there, but sealed off. Plus, with the cuffs, I hardly feel anything.”

“You’re not broken,” he says. “It could just be harder to access. Stronger powers take time.”

After a few moments of silence, he continues firmly. “If you can use it at any point, you prioritize yourself. You escape.”

I jerk my attention to him. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to.”

I stare him down, but his face leaves no room for bargaining.

“Promise me,” he says. “You leave Greed as fast as you can. And you trust no one.”

I know I won’t win this. My silence stretches between us, thick. I would never leave him—not really. I’m the only reason he’s still alive. We both know it, but I’m not going to waste energy arguing a moot point.

I think that’s the end of the conversation, but then he speaks again, like the words hurt to say.

“And when you go…” His jaw tightens. “You go straight to Maddox.”

Chapter 7

Maylo

Screaming usually helps.

It’s practically therapy. A little screaming, a little begging, maybe a finger or two bending the wrong way. Very cathartic and soothing.

It clears my head right up.

Not lately, though.

Lately the screaming just… echoes. It won’t quiet my mind, and neither does playing with my tooth collection anymore.

I lay them all out meticulously by size, smallest to largest. Over and over. All 236. It takes time. It’s fun.

But it doesn’t stop my brain.

Three weeks.