Hunter disappeared from view before appearing next to Quentin.
“Stay away from her!” I roared.
Rather than attack him, I placed a thin wall of my aura between them. Quentin’s golden tendrils cradled her. A slender trickle of blood ran leisurely from a cut in her hairline.
“I just want to talk,” he crooned. “You were much more pliable when you had an audience in front of you at the facility.”
“What do you want, Hunter?” she snapped.
“What would you do for my brother?”
The question caught us all off guard. It was a strange way to phrase it. When I was younger, I might have believed that Hunter was looking out for me. Now, I was suspicious why he wanted to know her intentions.
“Sorry?” Quentin asked, propping herself up properly.
“You heard me, Quentin Scott. What would you do for Grayson?”
“What game are you playing now?” I asked, trying to understand his reasoning.
Hunter looked at me, feigning innocence. “You think I can’t have your best interests at heart? Protection is my responsibility, little brother.”
Erik put a hand on my arm, keeping me back.
“Are you going to answer my question?” Hunter asked, turning back to Quentin.
Her gaze flicked to me before returning to him. “Anything,” she answered confidently. “I would do anything for Gray.”
“Such devotion is admirable. I hope you understand that marriage sometimes wears that away to nothing,” he replied, throwing a glance at Larkin. “Mabel sends her love, Larkin.”
“Mabel can choke. How she still exists when others are leaving us is beyond me,” she bit back.
“I really should get back to her. I’m grateful she told me of this little get together.”
Mabel was going to face my chaos soon. If Hunter even thought about trying to bring her into this family, he would be met with resistance.
“But next time, an invitation for us both would be appreciated,” he continued.
Once he’d left, I strode over to Quentin, ushering Sloan and Larkin out of the way. Pulling my bound into my arms, I brushed my finger across her cut, and she winced and pulled away. Superficial wound that would heal in a few minutes.
“That was a strange turn of events,” Erik muttered. “He’s losing the vote, and he knows it, but I thought he was coming around to the idea.”
“Archer has probably been whispering in his ear again,” Quen said. “He’s not happy about this arrangement.”
“If he doesn’t learn to keep his nose—"
“I’ll speak to him,” Larkin said. “Try to figure out what he’s up to.” She sat on her knees, staring at the space where her ex-husband had occupied moments ago and voiced what we were all thinking. “I don’t trust Hunter, so the more we know, the better chance we have to stop whatever he’s planning.”
Skipping lunch, I slumped back in my office chair and read Gareth’s email for the third time. Spotify blared a collection of rock music as I skimmed through the simpering words and swapped the screen for the document. Gareth was afraid to correct the work we’d done for the paper, but some polite suggestions still littered the page, and I was grateful that he tried.
Researchers from the other floors had been copied into the email, but I’d only received data from three of them. Resentment was rife, and I tried to brush it off, but it bothered me. I didn’t ask for divinity. I didn’t expect to fall in love with one of the elite. And yet, I didn’t blame them because I would have been furious if our positions were swapped.
When my intuition twisted in my stomach, I didn’t bother to look up. I didn’t sense a threat and assumed Gray or Flynn were stopping in to see me.
“Scott?”
The voice surprised me, and when I looked up, Larkin glided into my office before taking a seat opposite me.
“Hey. What’s up?” I asked, turning the music down so it was barely audible.
