“The summons,” the man says, his voice hard.
“What about it?”
“Read it,” his father orders.
Xavier’s cool expression remains. “I already know what it says.”
“Read it, son.”
I press my lips together, not understanding what’s happening. Without looking at his father, Xavier tears it open and pulls out a small slip of black paper. His expression remains unchanged, giving away nothing. Meanwhile, I’m standing with my mouth hanging open.
With an exhale, Xavier asks, “How long do I have?”
“Until the ceremony. It’ll add another feather to your wings.”
Xavier nods and places the slip of paper in his pocket. “I’ll get it done. Now get the fuck out.”
His father gives him a stiff nod and turns to leave, closing the door behind him. The silence is deafening. I watch through the small crack, waiting for Xavier’s reaction.
When he pivots, he’s calm and collected. The look in his eyes, however, is pure fire. “How much did you hear?”
I open the door, my cheeks heating. “Everything.”
“Good.”
I jerk back, surprised. He stalks toward me, his gaze focused, his mouth set in a hard line. His anger is a physical presence, swirling around him.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “What's going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s not good enough.”
“Delilah.”
“Xavier,” I say, imitating his tone.
“Don’t challenge me. Not right now.”
I lift my chin, unable to stop the small act of defiance. He shakes his head and grabs my hand, tugging me forward. He walks us back into the bedroom, the mattress dipping when he sits down and drags me onto his lap.
He slides his fingers around the nape of my neck, his thumb stroking the skin there. His touch is gentle. I hate it.
Well, I’mtryingto hate it.
“Look at me,” he says, his voice quiet but firm.
I don’t comply. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I have to leave, Delilah.”
I turn my head, my gaze colliding with his. “You’re leaving?” When he nods, panic expands in my chest, making it ache. “Someone just threatened to kill me, and you’re talking aboutleaving me here? Am I going to have to fend for myself? Or are you going to hand me over to another recruit?”
He growls, the sound deep and dangerous. It skitters along my skin, raising the tiny hairs. “No one will fucking touch you,” he says. “Especially not another recruit. I already told you: I don’t share.”
“But your father said?—”
“I won’t let that happen.”
