Sloane raised his blood-crusted eyebrows. “And if I didn’t?”
“What do you meanif you didn’t?”
“If I didn’t terrorize an innocent schoolteacher,” he hissed. “If there was a very good reason for what I did.”
Atria scowled. “Sloane, if you try to tell me that Miss Warren is secretly evil, I?—”
He shook his head sharply. It didn’t matter what anyone said or thought about him, but he refused to let Cecilia’s name be dragged through the mud. Protectiveness roared inside him, demanding he defend her.
Vision swimming a little, he grated, “Cece isgood.She’s everything good!”
A familiar, strange sensation crawled over his skin. It was like static, but it filled the air with the faintest tang of blood. Normally he couldn’t stand it, but in this moment, he sat rigidly, enduring the magical scrutiny.
Atria’s mouth opened a little in surprise. “Sloane…”
He swallowed hard. “Please, Atria. I… need your help. I need you to talk to the captain for me. I needyouto tell him that I?—”
“Oh,” she breathed, “Sloane, you’re inlove.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
The plan seemed simple enough,but something about breaking into a high security facility still didn’t sit right with her.
Maybe it was all the guns. Maybe it was the fact that her conspirators were all extremely scary elves. Or maybe it was the fact that they had no plan to get her out.
Whatever it was, Cecilia’s nerves jangled like a sack of forks and broken porcelain.
It was decided, with very little input from her, that Vesta and Arjun — who she’d learned was the bearded elf — would be her escorts. They drove her in a blacked out SUV across the city and over the gray expanse of the Bay Bridge. She’d crossed it dozens of times, but she’d never had a reason to take the heavily guarded exit onto Treasure Island.
Cold sweat gathered beneath the collar of her puffy jacket when they rolled up to the checkpoint. Two massive guards carrying bolt rifles stepped out of a small building by the gate to examine their vehicle. Waving a hand, they demanded the windows be rolled down.
Cecilia tried to act normal in the backseat, but that was a useless endeavor, because what even constituted normal under the circumstance?
They’d agreed that when asked, they’d say she was being brought in for questioning. Did that mean she ought to act worried? Relieved to have been rescued? Annoyed that she was being bothered by all this fanfare?
In the end, she settled on a mix of all of the above, which mostly involved sitting rigidly in her seat and looking exactly as nervous as she felt.
Vesta lowered her window to greet the guards. One of the guards peered closely at her while the other slowly circled the vehicle.
Nodding, the officer at the window demanded, “State your business, soldier.”
“Witness transfer for questioning,” she informed them in that flat robotic voice.
The guard tilted his head to peer into the backseat. Cecilia stiffened but still met the guard’s eye. A dark purple elf in sunglasses stared back at her, his lips pressed into a grim line. After a brief pause, he asked, “Is this the arrant who kicked Stafford in the back of the head?”
Cecilia rolled her lips between her teeth.
“Yes,” Vesta answered. “That’s why we’re here.”
Apparently done with his car inspection, the other officer, a deep green woman in a matching pair of sunglasses, joined her partner at the window. “Is this the arrant who bit Dex?”
Vesta took a second to reply. “…Yes.”
“Should she be unrestrained?” the blue guard asked, a brow arching over his sunglasses.
Cecilia glanced at the backs of Vesta and Arjun’s helmets. A small part of her found it hilarious thatelves,of all people, were worried about her attacking them, but a much larger part of her was completely horrified.
