It isn’t a suggestion. His fingers trace idle circles against the base of my spine, and despite the sirens, the medics, the ruined street behind us, my skin tightens under his hand. “What about Vivienne?”
“My wife understands the nature of my work.” His thumb brushes the edge of my neck. “Besides, you’ve practically been living in the lab for weeks. This is simply more efficient.”
The word slips from his lips like honey laced with poison. I shiver, though not from the night air. Behind us, Rowe is lifted onto a stretcher, his body limp in the medics’ hands.
The vehicle glides through Crown Heights, climbing steadily toward Founders’ Crest. Beyond the tinted windows, the city descends behind us, glass towers fading into estates, light giving way to opulence. The silence inside the car stretches taut.
“Was it my fault?” The question has been burning behind my eyes since the lab. “The breach. Did I miscalculate something in the containment protocols? Or maybe one of the assistants—”
“No.” Alexander’s response is immediate. His hand rests on the leather between us, close enough to radiate heat, but not touching. “Your work was flawless. As it always is.”
I study his profile, the clean line of his jaw illuminated by passing streetlamps. “The way it tracked Aria . . .” My voice trails. “That targeting pattern wasn’t in our original design. It shouldn’t have been possible unless—”
“Unless someone programmed it specifically.” His gaze meets mine, unwavering. “I arranged it.”
My breath catches. “Why?”
“I owed Kian a favor.” Alexander shifts, not closer, but more encompassing. “The hybrid was intended for Aria. If I’d known Rowe would be there . . .” A flicker of something dark passes through his expression—remorse, perhaps, or the closest he allows himself. “I would’ve chosen another night.”
“What kind of favor requires attacking my sister?” The words come shrill, serrated with betrayal.
He takes my hand, his fingers curling around mine with quiet authority. “That’s classified, Luna. There are still things I can’t share. Even with you.”
I should pull away. Should demand more. But his skin is warm against mine, and the press of his thumb across my palm short-circuits every rational protest. “I thought we were partners,” I murmur, hating the tremor in my voice. “You could’ve told me.”
“I kept it from you because I wanted to protect you.” His thumb moves, tracing faint circles against my skin. “The less you’re tied to Kian’s inner circle, the better.”
“I understand that, but,” I hesitate, distracted by how his fingers intertwine with mine, “it hurts when you keep me in the dark.”
“Luna.” His laugh is low and intimate, almost fond. “Who in this city knows me like you do?” He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers graze my temple, then my jaw, before settling against the curve of my neck. “I’ve shared more with you than I have with anyone. The truth about Veldrith. The real purpose of the founding families. My own past.”
I lean into his touch without meaning to. “I know, I just—”
“Do you think I tell everyone about my childhood?” His smile turns playful. “About my fears for Rowe? The weight of what’s coming?” His thumb skims along my jaw. “You see me, Luna. The real me. Doesn’t that mean something?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Of course it does. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Your mind, your curiosity, they’re precisely why I chose you. Why I trust you.” His fingers trace the slope of my neck, and I have to clamp down on the gasp rising in my throat. “Even if I can’t share everything, know this—you’re the only one I want at my side.”
I shift closer. “Alexander . . .”
“Yes?” His thumb brushes my lower lip, and this time I let my mouth part beneath the touch.
“I trust you,” I whisper. And gods help me, I mean it.
I lean forward, but Alexander’s hand drifts to my shoulder, halting me. “Wait,” he says, voice rough with restraint. “There’s something you should know before we go any further.”
The words douse me in a chill of disappointment. “What is it?”
“Rowe was at the scene tonight because earlier today, I gave him the surveillance footage from the night your parents died.” Alexander’s voice holds unusual gentleness. “In return, he agreed to grant access to a few of the sanctuary’s creatures. I think it’s only fair you know what those tapes revealed.”
“Was it . . .” The question sticks in my throat, but I force it out. “Was it you?”
A flicker of something passes through his eyes, his hand stilling. “After everything, you believe that of me?”
“No! No, I just,” I flinch, horrified I’ve wounded him. “It’s what Aria always thought. I—”
“Kian ordered it,” he says flatly. “Or perhaps Dominic took initiative. His way of proving himself. I didn’t witness it, only cleaned up the aftermath.”
