Maybe I didn’t speak out loud, or maybe I was too quiet, because they continued as if I hadn’t. They were sending Zabby away, to some friend of Lock’s in the South. A place that was safer.
Because of what was happening.
Because ofme.
It was all because of me. The chaos was because of me. And if Zabby wasn’t lying, then their debt was because of me too.
“I can leave,” I said.
The laughter stopped abruptly. Grim’s grip turned hard, bruising. The other three shared a look.
“This is too much, this is too dangerous,” I said. “You got hurt.”
Lock laughed. “Princess, this is not hurt.”
“You might need stitches.”
Another laugh.
I felt something shift. It wasn’t like a few weeks ago when they held me captive in my room. There wasn’t anger or resentment in their eyes. This was something different entirely.
It was too close to affection.
Which made it so much harder. Anger made sense. This? I didn’t deserve it. Any of it.
“Everything is falling apart?—”
“Let it,” Wraith said. “You’re ours, Gemma. The time for second-guessing passed a long time ago.”
My throat felt thick. Wraith didn’t say it with sweetness, just matter-of-fact, but still. A declaration like that coming fromWraith?
“I am curious. You got some kind of fetish for making bad guys angry?” Lock asked, turning to me. “What number is this now? Eleven? Twelve?”
“Thirteen,” Wraith answered.
“Like I said, fetish.”
I dropped the bottle. Burnt-orange liquid poured onto the marble.They were joking. I know they were joking.
I watched as the sticky liquid seeped from white tile, to black.
In my out-of-control life, monsters were the one thing I could control. I made them come when I wanted, where I wanted.
And I knew Grim would handle it.
It was all in my control.
I once read control was an illusion. I never really got it. Until now. It wasn’t…fun anymore.
“S-sorry,” I said, bending down. Absently, I noticed my hands were shaking. Isawthe tremors but didn’t feel them.
The room went quiet. Gemma didn’t shake. She didn’tapologize.
“Gemma,” Grim said. I kept trying to get the bottle. “Gemma, look at me.”
It was the authority in his voice that had me lifting my eyes. Some deep, primeval part of me wired to obey him. I didn’t hear them go, but the rest of the Horsemen had left. Grim leaned forward on his chair, knees on his elbows.
ThatGrimthing happened. Where I couldn’t breathe. Where all I saw and felt was the lethal fire in his eyes. Gleaming. Intense.
