RIVAL’S POV
The house was too quiet.
That kind of quiet that made every clock tick sound like a countdown. Samuel’s stink still clung to the corners even though he was gone. I hated that. Hated that his voice had wormed its way in here. This was supposed to be the one place the pit couldn’t touch.
And now it reeked of it.
Thomas hadn’t spoken since I’d snarled him down. He’d just leaned back into the couch, hands resting on his knees, staring at nothing. That silence of his wasn’t peace. I knew the difference. It was a silence packed with thoughts — dangerous ones — rattling around his skull.
I should’ve been pacing, sharpening blades, planning my next move. Instead, I sank into the chair across from him, my ribs screaming in protest the whole way down.
He noticed. Of course he did.
