Her eyes flick to me. I raise my glass in salute, the burn of the memory just as sharp as the scotch. The day she tried to leave. The shitty motel, and the blood of those scum I slaughtered. It feels like another life.
"All right," I say, tipping back the drink. "We don't look too bad, and we showed them."
Astrid nods. "Now they know we're not defenseless."
"This was a skirmish, not a full assault," Asher says, voice clipped. "We won't win the next one with the same tricks."
"We'll learn new ones," Astrid snaps back, not missing a beat.
I raise my second glass to her. Not often I find myself aligned with the valkyrie, but hey, I'll take allies where I can get them.
"Wildbane worked," Donna adds, her usual sparkle dimmed a notch. "And it turns out bullets still sting, even for Darius's people."
"Kudos to whoever shot the goat man," I mutter.
Tomas nods. "I aimed for his side, but he moved at the last moment."
I narrow my eyes. "You should've aimed for the heart. We'd be done."
"Colonel ordered us to disable, not kill," Tomas replies evenly. Then he adds, glancing at Sage, "For future reference, if things escalate, would a shot to his heart be fatal?"
All of our eyes drift to Sage, who's standing behind shirtless Asher, ready to pull the bullets from his back.
"I… I don't know," she admits quietly, sounding a little distressed. "I never tried to shoot him."
"Maybe you should have," Astrid says pointedly. "Would've ended your engagementandsaved us a lot of trouble."
The words hit like a slap. And yeah, I've thought that, too. But the way the valkyrie says it is cold judgment. Even when she's right, she doesn't get to spit it like that at Sage.
Before I can throw something sharp back at Astrid, Jace pipes up. "I liked whoever shot the younger guy. The faun."
"I thought it was you," Sage says, eyebrows raised.
I thought the same. The shot looked like a revenge play.
"Nobody shoots my nephew,my kin, and walks away from it," Winston growls. His eyes flare golden for a heartbeat, coyote thrumming just beneath the surface.
Damn. Didn't think anything could rattle the old man.
"Apparently the old coyote's got some teeth left," I mutter, raising my third glass.
Winston levels a flat look at me, half his face still smeared with blood and glass. Eira takes over tending the wound, whileJace keeps lurking nearby, clearly not in the mood. He growls at me. Literally.
"Oh hush, puppy," I say, swirling my drink. "If you were a better shot, maybeyou'dhave taken the guy out. But I guess they don't teach sharpshooting in New York hedge funds, do they?"
Jace rolls his eyes. "Says the guy whogot shot."
Then he turns to Sage and smiles. That smug kind of smile that says he's going to say something really stupid.
"Gotta hand it to you, Sage, you've got a type. Obnoxious, obsessive, borderline-deranged immortals who think they can say and do whatever the hell they want without consequences."
Sage frowns. His gaze cuts to me. My blood simmers.
I set my glass down with aclink, tilt my head just enough to feel the muscles in my neck stretch tight. My fangs are itching to show.
"You comparingmeto that arrogant piece of shit?" I ask, voice low.
"If the shoe fits," Jace fires back.
