Should she be gone?
Sera took a step back, looking up and down the mostly empty sidewalk.
Should she run?
North had offered to get Seth out of Demon Row. That was more than she expected, honestly. He agreed to let her get her things. Though, it was probably to keep her content and happy so she was less likely to try and leave when his careful calm exploded into the sort of anger that hurt.
Her fingers endlessly wrapped around themselves. Twitching. Fidgeting.
She took another step away.
Could she free Seth on her own? With Cole’s threat on her head, it was unlikely she could get close to Seth without a quick escape plan.
Another shuffling step.
What the fuck was he doing in there?
Sera bit her lip. The urge to flee was overwhelming. Every muscle in her body wanted to bolt. Yet… something kept her from taking that leap. Her heart sped up as time passed and her chance at escape dwindled.
She couldn’t trust North. There was bound to be a catch to this arrangement. If she didn’t run, then she was putting her hope in believing the price for his kindness was tolerable or, even, escapable.
Too late. Sera’s muscles eased as North strode from the building, yet uncertainty continued to churn in her stomach. A lifetime of poor choices didn’t bode well for her instincts.
He dropped a bundle over her head, a coarse blanket unfolding over her face and shoulders. Static shocks rocketed through her scalp. Her hair would be a proper mess.
“Can we get this over with?” This time, North held the door for her, but it felt less like manners and more like hurry-the-fuck-up.
Sera ground her teeth as she stepped up into the carriage and sat, snuggling herself into a corner. She had to tuck her legs and arrange her body just so to keep all of her covered. She had left her coat in headquarters, but she was definitely not going to mention that now. Rachel would store it for her.
North informed his driver of the address she'd given him and then settled into the opposite corner of the carriage. He stared straight ahead, arms crossed, and face blank. He might have been bored or annoyed or ready to fall asleep.
Everything about him was carefully guarded. She couldn’t detect patterns or tells in his mannerisms, only indifference and boredom. There had been that moment in his bedchamber where she was sure he had reacted to her, had lusted for her at the very least, yet had remained stiff and cold to her advances. He was either well-practiced in control or an emotionless shell of a person. Figuring out what angles or tactics would work to deal with him would be challenging.
“How did you know?” she asked.
He didn’t so much as turn to acknowledge her. When he didn’t respond, she clarified, “Back at headquarters? You said Cole was trying to kill me? How did you know? I assume it’s one of those fae gifts.”
“It is.”
“Well. Are you going to explain it or is it meant to be a mystery?”
North took a deep breath. “It isn’t a mystery, my gift is well known. Though, Death Sense is rare even among Winter Fae.”
“So, you can sense when someone is about to die?”
“In a way. It’s more like I can see when a soul is marked by Death. Occasionally, that means I can intervene before it happens.”
“But not always?”
North was quiet for a moment. She could see his tongue working against his cheek, almost like he was searching for a response. “No. Not always. Death is inevitable for mortals. It always wins eventually. But there is the odd chance where my gift allows me to put it off a bit longer.”
Sera couldn’t describe the tone shift in his voice, only that she got the sense this was not a subject he enjoyed talking about. Cole flaunted his gift. It was the reason Cole started working for Wraith. Communing with the recently deceased for a few minutes was extremely useful to a crime boss. But then, those souls had already passed on.
“Thank you, then. For saving me,” Sera offered.
His gaze slipped toward the window, farther away from her. “It’s my purpose in this life. My burden to carry.”
He paused and though his expression never changed, Sera sensed sadness so profound it made her heart clench. “But you are welcome,” he added, casting a look toward her. Was that sadness in his eyes? Or was she seeing more than what was there?
