Page 76 of Glutton for Punishment

“She’s alive.”

The words come out fast, cutting her off.

Sadie freezes. “Arwen?” She whispers.

“Yes, she’s alive. Our friends from the academy are with her in Gluttony. She’s okay.”

Tears fill her eyes, and she lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Oh my universe.”

She steps forward and pulls me into a hug before I can react.

“She’s alive,” Sadie repeats against my shoulder, voice shaking.

“Yeah,” I say, staring past her into the dim interior of the house. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

Sadie pulls back, wiping at her eyes. “What happened? Did they say—”

“Not much,” I cut in. “Just that she’s been through something. She’s in Gluttony.”

Her brows knit together, but she nods. When she looks back at me, the relief on her face turns to concern.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” I shift my shoulder, ignoring the way it jolts pain down my back. “Just a fight.”

Her eyes narrow. “You mean an illegal one?”

I don’t answer that and instead walk over to the and fill a clay cup with water.

She exhales, following me inside. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“I can,” I say, frustrated. “I have to.”

“For what?” she demands. “You look like you can barely stand. Brix, what about the academy?”

I drag a hand down my face. “Sadie—”

“No,” she says, soft but no less firm. “You don’t get to brush this off. You’ve been like this since you got back. Pushing yourself into illegal fights, volunteering for dangerous jobs. It’s self-destruction.”

My jaw tightens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not a big deal, just something I need to do.”

Her gaze doesn’t waver. “Tell me what I’m missing. Why is this worth risking your spot at the academy?”

“I’ll be more careful.” I mutter. Lying isn’t my favorite, but no need to stress Sadie out when she’s already been tearing her hair out over Arwen.

She studies me for a long second, then nods, like she doesn’t agree but knows pushing harder won’t get her anywhere.

“When you talk to her,” she says instead, voice softer, “tell her I love her. Okay? Tell her I’m so proud of her. That she’s—” her voice wavers again “—that she’s not alone. I’ll always be here for her to come back to.”

My throat tightens.

“Of course,” I say.

Sadie’s a good person. And I’m a shit friend.

I give her a quick hug goodbye and leave to head home. I don’t even make it two streets over when the lights of a Van hit me, harsh and blinding.

Voices bark out of the dark. “Hands where we can see them!”