Veiled Eyes

Chapter 7

Truth – noun: that which is true or in accordance with fact or reality.

“Why do you hate Haven so much?” I asked, my voice cutting through the tense quiet.

Kael didn’t turn, didn’t even shift his weight. For a long moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer at all.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and flat, stripped of anything resembling warmth. “Because I’ve seen what your Haven does to the people it decides don’t matter.”

The words hung heavy in the air, their edges sharp enough to nick. He still didn’t look at me, but I saw the faint tightening in his shoulders, the controlled rhythm of his breathing—like the question had pulled something dangerous to the surface.

“Was your family exiled?” I asked bluntly. My mother had always warned my mouth would get me into trouble one day—and judging by Kael’s locked jaw and rigid posture, that day had come.

He moved so fast it startled me, spinning and closing the distance in two strides. I scrambled back on the bedroll, but the dull throb in my leg was drowned out by the rush of panic in my chest.

My back hit the cold stone wall, the impact jarring. I was trapped—pinned between the unyielding rock and the solid, dangerous presence of Kael.

His head tilted just slightly, the movement predatory, those unsettling eyes boring into mine. Then he leaned in, his weight shifting over the bedroll until he was crowding my space entirely, the heat of him at odds with the cool air of the cave.

“Something like that,” he whispered, the words a low grumble. I could feel the vibrations in the air between us, the sound more felt than heard.

“The Haven is a sham,” he growled, voice dropping to something dark and dangerous, “and it deserves to be destroyed.”

I flinched as his arm slammed into the wall beside my head, the impact reverberating through the stone. His other hand closed lightly around my throat—not squeezing, not yet—just enough to remind me how easily he could.

His face hovered inches from mine, his hot breath brushing over my skin. I kept my eyes shut tight, the sting of tears pricking behind my lids.

One thought rose above the pounding of my heart, steady and absolute.

This is it. This is how I die.

“You’re afraid of me,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through my chest.

“Shouldn’t I be?” I choked out, forcing my eyes open to meet his gaze—only to be met by twin black voids, deep and unyielding. No light. No warmth. No humanity. Just the emptiness of a predator, exactly as C had warned.

And yet… heat crawled up my neck, spilling into my cheeks, a response I couldn’t explain and didn’t want to acknowledge.

For the briefest heartbeat, the darkness shifted, and I thought I saw something else—warm, rich brown, holding an emotion I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t mercy. It wasn’t pity. But it was… human.

Then it was gone, swallowed again by that endless black.

I blinked, my vision straining to bring his face into focus. Being this close to him made the world feel unsteady, the edges of reality blurring.

We stayed there, inches apart, locked in a stare that felt like a battle neither of us intended to lose. His eyes—dark, unreadable pools—tracked across my face, pausing on my lips for a heartbeat before darting away. Heat unfurled through me, not from his nearness but from the way it felt like he was truly seeing me for the first time.

“I am not who you need to be afraid of,” he said, voice low and rough, each word weighted.

His hand tightened on my throat—just enough to remind me it was there—then released. He stepped back, the movement sudden, leaving a hollow chill in the space where his presence had been.

I stayed frozen, the echo of his words lingering in the air, heavy and unshakable.

“What does that mean?” I asked, confusion twisting with something else I couldn’t quite name. I pushed myself up from the bedroll, but my legs buckled under me, dumping me onto the cold stone.

“I’d be afraid of C,” he said, his voice grave, his gaze barely flicking in my direction.

I bristled. “Why would I be afraid of him?” The question came out sharper than I intended, my earlier fear drowned by a rush of defensiveness. “C is the reason we’re alive! He’s the one keeping us safe from the beasts and the rogues!”

The words tumbled out with the force of conviction, but the taste they left was bitter—like I already knew there was something in them I didn’t fully believe.

“Beasts,” Kael scoffed, his mouth twisting. “What beasts have ever attacked your precious tower?” His voice climbed, hard and hot.

My vision wavered, the edges of the den bending and blurring as if the very question were scrambling my eyes.

“There’s the Stalkers—” I started.

“Scavengers,” he snapped. “They don’t hunt humans; they avoid them.” His arms flared wide, a snarl riding his words.

“But I saw the girl,” I insisted, the image of small limbs and tearing jaws surging up, sour in my throat.

“Think,” he said, head tilting, watching me like he was waiting for a lock to click. “Think hard. You still wear those things in your eyes that blind you.” He tapped the corner of his own.

My All C’s? How did he know about them?

My stomach churned. “No,” I protested, shaking my head as if I could shake away his words. “You’re wrong. We have reports, sightings… Why would C lie?”

“To control you!” Kael’s voice cracked like a whip, his form now little more than a smear of movement in my swimming vision.

I staggered to my feet, swaying, my head pounding in time with my heartbeat. Was he right? Could C be lying? The thought sliced through me, jagged and unwelcome.

But why was I even listening to him? I’d known him for mere hours. He’d been nothing but harsh, guarded, cold. And yet… he had helped me. Brought me here. Given me clothes. Tended my wound.

The contradictions tangled in my head, thick and heavy, and then—images began flashing through my mind.

The little girl.

Only now, her body wavered, flickering between a bloodied, broken child and the still form of a deer. The massive Stalker that had attacked me shifted too—less a hulking predator, more a desperate creature defending its young. Thin, gaunt, its matted coat stretched tight over bone as it and its pups tore at the deer’s carcass.

Even the claws in my thigh twisted in my mind’s eye, melting into a jagged shard of glass embedded deep in the flesh. My hands, pulling it free. The spray of blood. Not a beast’s talons at all. But glass that had lodged itself in my thigh when I fell through the window of the building.

The certainty I’d clung to crumbled beneath me.

“No, no, no,” I gasped, yanking at my hair. My head throbbed so violently it blurred the edges of my thoughts—until I realized it wasn’t just the pain.

My vision was gone.

Black.

My eyes were open, but no light came through. No shapes. No movement. Nothing.

“Thea?” Kael’s voice cut through the void, rough with sudden concern. His hands found my cheeks, steadying me as I turned my head wildly, desperate to see something.

But there was nothing to see.

Cold dread crawled through my veins. There could be only one cause. The lenses—the All C’s I’d trusted my whole life—hadn’t been showing me the truth. They’d been controlling what I saw. Programming my reality until I couldn’t tell fact from fabrication.

I felt sick. Violated.

With trembling fingers, I clawed at my eyes, ignoring the searing pain as the lenses peeled away. They came free with a wet stick, and I hurled the treacherous things to the ground.

And then—light.

Color erupted across my vision, wild and raw, so vivid it made my breath catch. The shock of it was like being thrown into icy water after years in a warm cell. The world tilted beneath me, my senses flooding, overloading—too much, too fast.

Darkness swept back in, but this time it was different. Softer. Pulling me under.

I was falling—tilting forward into nothing—bracing for the impact. But it never came.