The truth knots itself inside my chest. Lyon’s beenusingme. Using all of us.
My thoughts run red when I think back to the bee he crushed under his shoe the day we escaped from the Observatory. The way he looked atme as he snuffed out the bee’s soul. He wasn’t trying to keep our secrets from Chronos. It was a show, a demonstration—a vivid reminder of the fate awaiting Fleur, just to keep me from having second thoughts.
It was the only way I could be sure you’d make it out of the Observatory.
Just like with the Termination in Gaia’s office. GaiaknewChronos would punish those girls, and Lyon made damn sure I was there in time to see it. To frighten me. To keep me focused on a goal I’d thought was my own. He’d told me to forget Alaska, to follow my heart and change the ending. But it’shisending he wants me to change. Not mine.
I cock the rifle and swear.
All this time, I thought Lyon understood me. That he wanted to help me. All that talk about choices. About how I was the only one who could see into my heart. It was all bullshit. All this time, he had me convinced the ending I was fighting for was my own.
I track the smaze, wondering whose soul is stuck inside it. Remembering the way it followed Lyon around the Observatory like an obedient dog. Wondering if it’s the restless spirit of the last poor sucker Lyon duped into fighting his war.
I rest my finger on the trigger just to satisfy my own rage. But it’s stupid. Pointless. All I see is the bee’s light going out and Hunter’s magic dissolving. All I feel inside me is the weight of Névé’s soul.
I let out a breath. Let the tip of the rifle drop. It’s just a goddamn dark cloud anyway. I slump against the wall of the bar. Through the windows behind me, I hear glass shatter, and someone screams.
35
A Kiss and All Was Said
FLEUR
Julio and Amber are the only ones dancing, but to see them—the way they look at each other—you’d think they were the only two people in the room. Julio whispers into her ear, their cheeks touching. When she tips her head back and laughs, he glows brighter than the sun.
Maybe that’s the secret to breaking down barriers: to dance so close it’s impossible to tell who’s leading. To stand near enough to speak softly. To hold each other’s hands so you can’t throw stones.
The song ends. The sound of glasses being stacked behind the bar and raucous laughter from the frat boys’ table breaks the spell, and Amber reluctantly unwinds herself from Julio’s arms. Their fingers brush, almost letting go as the record changes. But as “When a Man Loves a Woman” begins to play, she chews on her grin and settles back into his arms. They sway, turning in slow circles as he mouths the lyrics against her ear. Even the waitress rests her chin on her hand to watch them.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” The tall boy we played pool with slides his arm around my shoulder.
“He’s around.” I shrug out from under him, ignoring his slurred mutters as he withdraws back to his friends.
I look for Jack, but his stool is still empty. He’s been gone too long. Long enough to make me anxious as the frat boys’ table grows rowdier. They bark at the waitress for another round, and a quiet tension builds as they watch Julio and Amber with more than a passing interest.
One of them snatches a beer off the waitress’s tray. He carries it onto the dance floor and spills the entire bottle down Julio’s back. The air in the room crackles, hot and close, as Julio turns slowly around.
The boy smugly surveys Julio’s shirt. “Sorry about that.”
“I bet you are.” Julio’s eyes dart to Jack’s empty stool. Then to me. I give a tight shake of my head.
“You should go home and clean that up. We’ll keep an eye on the girls for you.”
A fire lights in Amber’s eyes. She stalks to the pool table and palms a cue. I pour the last of my beer into the potted plant beside me and turn the bottle around, holding it by the neck. “I don’t think they need a babysitter,” Julio says. “I’m thinking they’re good.”
The boy leers at us. “I bet they are.”
“Too bad you’ll never find out,” Amber says over the music. The old men at the bar chuckle into their beers. The guy’s face reddens when his friends start laughing, too.
“Are you even old enough to be in a bar?” He calls out to the waitress, “Hey, did you check their IDs?”
“Your mom called, kids,” one of his friends shouts from their table.“She says you’re late for curfew.” Their group explodes with laughter and I want to string every single one of them from a tree.
“Look, I get it,” Julio says. “Two very capable ladies schooled you in a game of pool. But just because your ego’s bruised—”
The guy shoves Julio, pushing him back a step. Julio throws Amber a warning look when she shifts her grip on the cue.
He raises his hands. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
