“You’re bleeding through your bandages.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do. Fuck, I work hard at this shit. Do you know how much time I spent studying this shit? And then all the fucking fieldwork I had to do? And everyone — you, and every other idiot in this fucking club — acts like they can get shot, I’ll just patch it up, and they can get up the next fucking day and just walk it off, and if they get hurt again, I’ll just be right here to fix them again, no problem.”
There’s anger in his voice, but something else, too — hurt; he gives a damn, even if he doesn’t want to say as much out loud aside from complaining. I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. “I appreciate what you did for me. Thank you. You saved my life, and I was acting like a fucking asshole by ignoring you. I just want to see my sister and make sure she’s OK. Can you bring her here?”
Bishop studies me for one long beat, then nods.
“Fine. Since you were a decent human being for a second. But don’t move, or I swear to god, if you abuse my kindness, then what I do to you will make them add a new fucking line to the Hippocratic Oath.”
Bishop leaves, but not for long. And when he returns, it’s not with June. Instead, in just minutes, the room is beyond crowded with a pack of Devils. Rabid stands dead center, arms folded, looking at me like a judge about to sentence someone to death row, and I don’t know if that’s just his normal look, or if the bullets and sacrifice I made to help save the Devils just wasn’t enough to earn me mercy. Goldie is beside him, with a calm face, dangerous eyes, and a set of Buddhist prayer beads on his wrist. Tank and Reaper lean against the wall like carved stone. Alessia is there too, chin lifted, gaze sharp enough to cut glass. Claire stands a step back, expression unreadable.
And then there’s Molly.
She’s near the doorway, arms crossed, hair a wreck, face smudged like she’s been through a war — which she has. Her eyes hit mine and don’t move. The war with the Sons might be on pause for now, but there’s another war still raging in her heart.
My sister’s nowhere to be seen.
Rabid’s gaze rakes over my bandage, my sling, my bare feet on the cold floor.
“You’re lucky to be alive,” he says. It’s not a question. More a reminder not to count my eggs before they hatch.
“I want to see June,” I say again, louder. “Now.”
Rabid’s jaw works like he’s chewing on a decision. Then he looks at Reaper and inclines his head toward the door. “Bring her in.”
I hear footsteps. A small shuffle. A shaky, shallow breath that catches like a sob being strangled.
June appears in the doorway.
Her hair is tangled. There’s a bruise blooming along her cheekbone and a red mark at her wrist like someone held her too tight for too long. That, or she struggled in the grip of a Devil who had no idea what kind of wily, disobedient, trouble-making, lovable menace he was dealing with. But she’s upright. Breathing. Alive.
Her eyes find mine, and her face crumples into something sorrowful and loving.
“Evan,” she whispers. She runs — stumbles, really — and comes to the side of the bed. I catch her with my good arm, crushing her to my chest like I can weld her there with force and tears. She’s shaking. She smells of fear and stale sweat and sickness. As I press a gentle kiss to her forehead, I feel the burn of fever. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“June,” I choke out. “I’ve got you. You’re out. And no matter what happens, you’re free.”
She clings to me so hard that it hurts my shoulder. I don’t care. I pull her tighter.
Behind her, the room stays silent. Nothing but a pack of Devils watching. Waiting.
June pulls back just enough to look at me. Her lower lip trembles. “They said you…” She swallows. “They said that since you were working for the Sons… they might… they were going to…”
I frown, my eyes scanning the room briefly to see if I can make out which Devil told my little sister that they might kill me for cooperating with the Sons. All I see is a bunch of stony faces. And Molly.
“I know.” I glance past her to Molly — just a flicker. “I’m sorry. I did what I had to do to get you out, and that means things might be tricky for me for a while. But no matter what, you know that I’m always going to look out for you, right?”
June’s eyes fill with love and pain. “You… saved me. But what happens now?”
“Of course I saved you. I loved you. You’re all I’ve got, ever since mom and dad…” I say, and I stop, my voice failing me. “What happens now is that you’re going to be safe, you’re going to stay out of trouble, and you’re going to have a good life.”
“And you?”
“I’ll be all right.”
I don’t know if it’s true, but I sell it like it is. When it comes to keeping my sister safe, I can be a pretty good liar. She hugs me again, then steps aside when Bishop gently guides her to a chair. Claire moves in automatically, offering her water, her presence steady in the way caretakers are.
