“Her mother had medical training. She called in a few favors, but we never took Bella to a hospital. We didn’t dare leave the safety of our home in case our enemies were lying in wait.”
“How many times did this happen?” I ask.
“Only once more.” He swallows as if he’s bracing himself against what he’s about to say next. “The day her mother died, Bella was trapped for seven hours in a room with highly poisonous plants. She was unconscious with a fever for three days, but then she recovered fully. That was the last time it happened.”
“So you think she’ll be fine? If we do nothing?” Atticus asks.
“Keep her hydrated. Monitor her vitals.” The Poisoner shrugs. “Her mother kept journals—there might be something in them that will shed light on what Bella has done.”
What Bella has done. I don’t like how he talks about her. I clench my hands into fists. It would be so satisfying to punch him. Drive my fists into his face over and over, until his skull caves?—
But I can’t. It won’t help Bella. It will hurt her.
Atticus says he wants to see the journals.
“I’ll dig them out of storage,” the Poisoner says. “And I can come and run some tests if you like?—”
“No.” I move closer to him. Jaeger and Asmodeus block my way, and I ignore them. “She doesn’t want to see you.” I don’t want her to see you. The Poisoner nods, his expression resigned. “Let me know if I can help.”
“You’ve done enough,” I say. The way he speaks to her, I should cut out his tongue. The only thing stopping me is knowing Bella won’t like it. But she can’t stop me from threatening him.
I point at the Poisoner. “If she dies, I’ll kill you. Come near her and I’ll kill you. She’s not yours to protect anymore.”
I wait for him to shout at me or insist that Bella belongs to him, but he just nods.
I leave the room before the predator in me pounces, and I have to come up with a way to convince Bella that she’s better off with him dead.
Jaeger catches up with me on the stairs. He lopes along by my side. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m going home,” I say.
“I’ll drive.”
There are a few Fraternitas members standing around my car who straighten when I storm out of the house. They’re there to keep me from going on a rampage.
And suddenly, that’s all I want to do. I can’t kill the Poisoner, but I need to spill blood. My skin feels itchy, all over like it’s too tight.
I want to throw my head back and roar.
I round on my brother.
“Did you call them?” I ask.
“You can’t kill your father-in-law,” Jaeger says, annoyingly calm. It’s the last straw. I charge him. He waits until the last second to duck me. But I know his moves better than he does. I taught them to him. I kick his shin. He goes down but hammers a blow to my knee. I stagger, barely managing to stay upright.
He comes up and pops me in the face. Blood trickles in my eyes. It hurts, but it’s a good, clean pain. It cuts through the itchy feeling. It feels right.
I charge my brother again, roaring. I slam a haymaker into his jaw and two more into his gut before I realize he’s not trying to hit me back. He just takes the blows and straightens, his hands loose at his sides. I punch him in the face, but my heart isn’t in it.
This isn’t a fair fight. The predator snarls, wanting more, but I’m back in control.
I can’t kill my brother. I face him, chest heaving. We’re mirror images of each other. Identical. Even the black eye he just gave me matches the one I gave him.
The rest of my Fraternitas brothers have formed a loose circle around us. We’re on a public street in the middle of a nice neighborhood, putting on a free show.
I wipe the blood off my face. Jaeger resets his jaw.
I go to offer him my hand, and the men around us tense.
