I grind my teeth. Gods, I hate this. Planning behind their backs, while they're watching behind mine.
I write:Half an hour. Woods behind the bar, dirt road beyond.
His reply is immediate.
Understood. I'll be there.That's all he writes.
I find Jace, wiping down the bar. "I need to ask you something. A favor."
He frowns instantly. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
"I need to step out for a short time," I say carefully, praying he won't ask more.
But of course he does.
Jace narrows his eyes. "You're meeting one of them. Darius himself, aren't you?"
I nod. No sense in lying. "I promised during the event, and he promised truce if I hear him out."
Jace groans, running a hand through his hair. "What the hell, Sage? What's stopping him from packing you up and shipping you to Bali? Or wherever the hell he wants?"
"He made a promise. A binding one." My voice hardens, low. "I have to, Jace. If there's a chance to end this without blood, I want to take it. I don't want a war that could've been avoided." Reminding him of his own story, I add, "Like your pack."
His jaw flexes. He hates that I said it. Hates that it hits home.
"You want me to lie to Asher," he says flatly.
"Just keep quiet. For now. And if I manage to broker peace, I'll put in a word for you. You'll pitch your idea directly to him."
His brows rise. "Blatant bribery, huh?"
"Please, Jace. I have to try."
He sighs, long and weary. "I don't like this. At all. But… if you think you can end it…" He shakes his head, then mutters, "All right. Go."
Relief floods me. I squeeze his shoulder. "Thank you. Really."
I slip my phone out again and type:All set. Tell me when.
Ten minutes later, the buzz comes.
Now.
My stomach flips. No turning back.
The sleek black car looks out of place in the woods. Darius stands in front of it, immaculate as usual, lips curving into that practiced, disarming smile the moment he sees me.
"Please," he says, opening the door with courtly grace.
"Let's do this quickly," I mutter, sliding in before I can change my mind.
He joins me a second later, moving with the kind of unhurried ease that grates against my frayed nerves. The engine hums to life.
"Where are we going?" My voice comes out tighter than I intend.
"Dinner." He stretches back comfortably, hands resting loosely, like this is the most ordinary thing in the world. "You promised me."
"I promised a talk. We can talk here." My pulse is spiking, palms damp. "This counts."
