I crawled like a toddler.
“But once I walked in on you while Lynx was away. You were probably eighteen at the time, maybe nineteen. Just graduated that awful private school he made you attend.”
I hear Fox, and I’m looking at Fox, but in my head, I am far away.
“There was bloodpouringdown your arm. You were trying to stop the flow with your other hand, and a hunting knife was on the floor.”
The trees whisper with wind, the fire crackles a few feet from my spot on the ground, and the crow feather is held in place by the ball of string.
“You looked up at me, your face pale, and at first, I thought you were scared. That somehow it was an accident. But you laughed at me, your teeth flashing, and you lifted up your bloody forearm and said,look, Fox! I did that!”
Fox doesn’t smile. He speaks evenly. But there’s something pulling at him, I see it now that I’mhere,listening. The way he swallows. His hands are clenched together in his lap.
“Did it scare you?” My voice is hoarse. “Does it scare you?” Both questions seem valid.
Eve is watching me.
I feel both of their eyes.
I should be inside.
I should take a sleeping pill.
I’ll need to be ready when Storm leaves that precious angel girl’s apartment.
Fox glances at the fire. The orange dances in the amber of his irises. “I wouldn’t work for you if it didn’t. I wouldn’t stay if it doesn’t.”
I smile sweetly at him. It feels like hatred. “Can you get us a drink? I need to pour offerings, anyway.” I nod toward the ground.
Fox’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t question me. No, he wouldn’t do that to my face, would he?
He gets up, heads inside, closing the door behind him.
“Lydia.” Eve says my name like a gasp, as soon as we’re alone. An exclamation. A fear.
I don’t look at her. I’m staring into the flames. I’m remembering the way Lynx broke my fingers. How he locked me in a closet. The things I would beg him for in order to keep his hands off my brother.
I remember the summer.
The hotel room.
The ways I allowed him to degrade me, all for Lele. All fornothing.
“Whatever you think you know, it could be wrong.” Eve’s voice is low and quick. “You’re not sure, and what you’re thinking is an expensive bet on being unsure.”
I smile at that. Wild and wicked. My heart pumps strong inside of my ribcage.
I don’t look at Eve. She’s still his victim, isn’t she?
But me?
I’m done being that.
“I don’t ask for permission, Eve. And I’ve never asked for yours.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
