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Back Seasons of Chaos
Chapters (70)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. Epilogue
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. About the Author
  68. Books by Elle Cosimano
  69. Back Ad
  70. About the Publisher

I don’t make it ten steps out of Lyon’s office before I’m surrounded by four of his new Guards. I grit my teeth as they escort me down the brightly lit hall. One of them presses a phone to his ear, voicing affirmatives between extended pauses. With an abrupt jerk of his head, he indicates a change in direction, detouring us away from the gallery that should take us back to the elevator in the Crux. Back to my room.

“Where are we going?” I bite out as he slips his phone into his pocket. The sooner I get to my room, the sooner I can start planning a way out of here.

The Guard holds open a door to a familiar stairwell. An earthy, stagnant dampness rises from the passages below. My feet slow and I’m nudged from behind.

“You’re being moved.”

“Where?”

“To a holding cell.” The team guides me down a flight of stairs. The temperature drops, and a chill rakes up my spine. The secure cells are in the catacombs. Impossible to break out of.

This puts a fucking damper on things.

The white walls and bright overheads give way to circular steps, carved out of stone and lit with torches. They herd me through the winding tunnels of the caves below the school, into a corridor of cell doors made with heavy iron bars. A crow—one of Gaia’s spies—squawks, shaking out her feathers as we brush past her perch. I’m directed into an open cell, and the locks snap closed behind me.

I turn at the sound, the stone walls closing in around me, but the Guards are gone, their footsteps already fading under the distant hum of the generators and the scratch of the crow’s talons against her perch.

I pace the edges of my cell. I didn’t pause to get a haircut during the weeks I spent hunting for Jack, and a stubborn piece of hair keeps falling into my eyes no matter how many times I rake it back. I’d kill someone for a pair of scissors and a razor. But Lyon’s given me nothing. Clearly, he doesn’t trust me to wait out the week without incident. And for good reason. I’d burn this whole place down before I’d concede to give up my magic and serve the rest of a mortal life here.