I turn to look. A guy I’ve never seen before is waving excitedly at us—no, at Ciprian. The yellow glint in his eyes tells me he’s a shifter. Probably drunk and confused.
We keep walking. Ciprian is moving more quickly than before. I narrow my eyes and slow down.
“Dude, wait up,” the stranger shouts. “Your dad sent me. He says you haven’t been answering your phone.”
I stop. The splinter quivers wildly inside my brain.
“Ignore him,” Ciprian mutters, reaching for the door.
I ignore him instead, turning to face the shifter. “Who did you say you were looking for?” I ask politely. “Maybe I can help.”
“Ciprian Casanell,” the man barks, his eyes flashing a brighter yellow as his chest puffs out. “I don’t need help from fringe scum either; I’m here on enclave business. Don’t even think about getting in my way.”
The splinter disintegrates, and everything snaps into place.
Ciprian’s careful questions. How powerful he is. The way he never quite fits in.
“CiprianCasanell?” I repeat, shaking my head as my eyes burn. “I should have known. You’re here for a job. Tell me, Casanell, arewethe job?”
“Listen, Alistair, please.” Ciprian grabs my upper arm. “Let me explain.”
I shove his hand off. He’s not who he claimed to be—I’ve heard all I need to hear.
“You lied to us,” I hiss, shoving him back into the outer wall of the Fang. “And you betrayed Celine.”
“No.” Ciprian’s head snaps up, anger and desperation twisting his face into something I don’t recognize. “I absolutely did not.”
I scoff. His audacity, to keep pretending, even now... It reeks of enclave entitlement. I should have recognized it for what it was the first time I saw him. My judgment is to blame for this; I let a rat into our midst. That ends tonight.
“Come on, man,” the shifter whines. “Let’s go back to the compound. It’s gross here.”
“Brendan,” Ciprian snarls. “If you don’t fuck off right now, I will remove your organs and feed them to my father one by one.”
Brendan goes unnaturally still, one finger twitching at his side. “He’ll kill me if I come back empty-handed.”
Ciprian shrugs—he doesn’t give a shit if that happens or not. “Sounds like you’ve got a choice to make,” he drawls. “Stay anddie tonight or crawl back to the compound and survive a few more hours.”
“You’re a fucking asshole,” Brendan grunts. “Everyone says so.” His tone is belligerent, but there’s fear in his eyes as he backs away and disappears into the darkness.
The insult rolls off Ciprian as if he didn’t even hear it. His black eyes are fixed on me. The heat in my veins, the burning. I want, noneedto tear him to pieces.
That night he saved my life, he wasn’t wandering around or heading home like he claimed, he was following me. If I had died, his lead would have died with me. He played us all, every step of the way, half-truth after half-truth. One calculated risk after the other.
For the first time in years, I’ve been completely fooled.
It cuts through the thin veneer of my control until I’m hanging on by a thread.
“You’ll tell Celine the truth,” I tell him, my fangs throbbing. “Then you’ll crawl behind your gilded walls and leave us alone. Forever.”
“Let me explain, Alistair. Please!” It disgusts me that he thinks I’m so easily tricked. I won’t give him another chance to deceive me. He’s been playing a game of chess and using us as the pawns. I won’t forget it.
“I can’t stand to look at you,” I snap. “Go tell her. Now.”
Ciprian flinches as if I hit him, his shoulders slumping. The begging. His dejection. It’s all part of a carefully curated act. He’s upset that his game is over.
The door swings wide with a sickening screech, but the cold glide of the Fang’s wards does nothing to cool my rage. Noise crashes into us. It bounces off my exposed nerves like hot wax. The Fang is packed, bodies stacked from corner to corner as Celine works the pole, her routine drawing raucous hoots and hollers.
Every inch of my vision is tinged in red. I clench my teeth. The urge to paint the club in blood is difficult to ignore. Nearly impossible. We were played, and I was too blind to see what was right in front of me all along.
