“On his way.”
“I meant Rafferty. Not Mal.”
“Oh. Tarian won’t tell me. He’s too worried I’ll go Bonnie and Clyde with you.”
As we head to the parking entrance, I visualize all the ways my reunion with Reeve will go. In almost every scenario, I wreck him like he wrecked me.
I wait to feel the thrill of vengeance, but it doesn’t come. Surely it will.
Surely once we’re face to face, I’ll take immense pleasure in undoing him like he must’ve taken such pleasure in undoing me.
Chapter 46
Electra
“Can you go faster, Mal?” I check the speedometer, then the little dot on Malachi’s phone that indicates Reeve’s whereabouts.
“I’m already going forty over the limit.”
“This is a car chase,” I remind him, looking into the side mirror for Gael’s SUV, which is just turning into a gas station on the side of the highway.
Malachi side-eyes me. “No, this is a carhunt, since Rafferty doesn’t know we’re coming. Besides, his car hasn’t moved for the last five minutes.”
For the umpteenth time, my restless fingers unlock Reeve’s phone, which I’ve been charging on the G-Wagon’s wireless dock since we tore out of the gym parking lot.
The prick has been meticulous. I’ve scoured his entire search history and found nothing—no photos, no deleted chats, no searches about Atlantis or anything remotely suspicious.
I don’t know why this surprises me, really. Holy Hunters might not be infallible, but they’re smart. If they weren’t, we’d already have dismantled their organization.
I fling the phone aside and gnaw on my pinkie’s cuticle. I keep expecting Malachi to ask:How did you miss all the signs? What happened to your instincts?
But he’s been careful with his words, like he’s loath to add to my shame.
Gaea, howdidI miss all the signs? How did I let Reeve get so close? Where the fuckweremy instincts?
As the highway ribbons past us, I analyze every beat of my time with Reeve—from the gala to the locker-room to my apartment to the hotel suite.
I recall the sob story he fed me about his sister’s diabetes. Since he doesn’t have a sister—a known one at least—I fathom it’s another lie.
I see the scars he blamed on his time living on the street and locked up in juvie. I’m guessing an Atlantean inflicted them. Could I have been the cause of one? Is that what prompted him to choose me as his victim, or did he target me because my crush on Malachi was easy to exploit?
“I never understood what you saw in that homeless kid,” Malachi murmurs.
“I saw a way to get your attention.”
Malachi swerves a little. “My attention?”
“You know how you fake-dated Ines to keep Gael away from her. Well, I fake-dated Cill—Reeve in the hopes that you’d finally notice me. I had such a huge fucking crush on you, Mal.”
For years, this secret felt like something larger than life, unsayable, borderline embarrassing. Yet I’m not embarrassed; I’m relieved.
I reach out and pat his arm. “Don’t worry. I don’t have one anymore. Reeve cured me of it.”
“That’s—I’m—I’m not quite sure what to say. I feel like I should apologize if I ever led you on.”
“You didn’t. I led myself on. You have nothing to apologize for. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer if we never spoke about it again.”
“Okay.” After a beat, he says, “For what it’s worth, you’re an incredible woman. I hope the next man you find will be deserving of you.”
