“You’re allgirl bossesnow, right?” Mr. Skinny sneered. “You’re independent. You’rehigh-valuewomen.”
I recognized the bullshit as coming from Ethan Todd, had heard Todd spew the same bullshit in his videos. And yeah, some women did use words like that to describe themselves now, but I couldn’t help thinking it was typical for a bunch of men who went around calling themselves “alphas"to resent women who used words to empower themselves.
I resisted the urge to argue. I needed a way out. Winning a debate with one of the guys keeping me in an underground prison wasn’t a priority.
“Being strong doesn’t mean you never need help.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re stuck here. You’d probably spit in my face if I tried to hold a door for you, if you even looked at me at all.”
My mind was spinning, trying to find a way to use what he was saying. And the thing was, I recognized the sentiment, had heard it play out even in mainstream conversations online about the modern dynamic between men and women.
“I wouldn’t.” I was careful to keep my voice from sounding desperate. “But I might hold the door for you too, if I got there first. There’s nothing wrong with just being nice to each other, is there?”
I caught a flash of confusion in his eyes, like I’d thrown him off, like he didn’t know what to make of the conversation. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking, because a second later it was gone and he was backing toward the door.
“Wait!” I said when he removed a set of keys from his pocket.
“What?” He sounded like a sullen teenager.
“Will you come back? Just to… I don’t know, just to talk?”
I had zero interest in talking to a guy who would do what Mr. Skinny was doing, but I needed to find a way to get him on my side, or at least plant enough doubt that he might give me a break somewhere along the way.
“I’m not your friend.” He stepped through the iron door and closed it with a clang. “You should eat. You’re going to need the strength.”
4
REMY
I pacedthe living room in the rented apartment in Bucharest and tried to mentally send a message to Maeve.
We’re coming for you. I love you.
I hadn’t said it after Owen’s winter formal and now I hated myself for it. Maeve had been spooked by the intimacy of our slow dance, spooked by the realization that I’d already come to: that what was between us — all of us — was more than just an obligation of the Hunt. I hadn’t wanted to corner her, so I’d swallowed the three words that had been on my lips even though they were big enough to choke the life out of me.
Now she was out there, alone and scared, and she didn’t even know that I Ioved her so much I felt like someone had excavated my heart with a fucking ice pick.
“You’re going to wear a hole in the floors,” Poe said from the sofa in the living room.
“We can’t all be Buddha.”
He held up his hands in surrender and I realized I’d practically bitten his head off, something that was usually Bram’s territory.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“I get it.” He went to the kitchen and started making a coffee even though it was after midnight in Romania, the city’s lights twinkling on the other side of the windows while its residents slept. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not exactly Zen about this whole thing.”
“I know.”
We were all worried sick and showing it in our own ways. Poe hadn’t meditated once since Maeve had been taken, and Bram had taken to stalking the city at all hours like a vampire looking for blood, like he might stumble across Maeve on a random street corner.
“Any word from Aloha or Rafe?” Poe asked as the coffee machine started churning.
I shook my head. My laptop was open on the dining room table in front of the windows. Thanks to the Kings and their private jet — only the fucking Kings would have a private jet — we’d left Blackwell Falls less than an hour after we got word that Ethan Todd’s plane had registered a flight plan to Romania.
We’d landed in Bucharest and rented a car to get us into the heart of the city where Jude had arranged for the apartment. Now we were working every angle to get a lead on Todd’s location. Aloha had one of his spiders crawling for financial data — credit card charges and anything else traced not only to Todd, who must have had a second passport, but to Anton Vladescu — and he’d set his facial recognition spider to search traffic and security cams for Maeve, Todd, and Anton.
We were sitting on Todd’s socials, waiting to see if he’d post a new video or comment, anything that might give us a clue that he was up and running again, anything that might give us a clue where he was, although Aloha said Todd usually uploaded his videos through a VPN.
