“Because you have a pretty good track record of killing my friends,darling.”
His body shook with barely restrained anger, but then dissolved as something almost like regret flashed in his eyes, for only a second, and he sighed. “I’m sorry for your friends, but I had nothing to do with us.”
…confirm that the two missing individuals are both omegas and were last seen with the group at the excavation site. Search efforts have expanded outward in a fifty-mile radius, but with nightfall approaching, Ignareth officials will now hand the reins over to Noctis to continue the progress they’ve made today.
“I swear to Sanguiel that I didn’t do this,” he said, his voice calm yet heavy. He let go of my finger, wrapping his arms around my trembling frame. He began to purr, but I found no comfort in the vibration.
“I swear.”
40
Seeing Red
Ronan
As much as I hated all of my old clothes, I knew I needed to look the part if I was going to be collecting back payments tonight, so I spent the afternoon shopping for something that sat somewhere between my old and new aesthetics—faded jeans that had been through one too many washes didn’t exactly scream “intimidation.”
The bell chimed above the store, a sound I’d known since I was old enough to walk from coming here so often with my dad.
The place hadn’t changed at all, a fact more comforting than I’d thought it would be.
Dark wood shelves lined the walls, bolts of fabric stacked high. The air smelled faintly of steam, starch, and leather. A single rack held finished suits wrapped in garment bags, while mirrors flanked a raised, scuffed platform.
I took two steps inside before a voice cut through the quiet.
“You got fat.”
Ah, good ol’ Mori.
The old tailor emerged from behind a curtain with a tape measure slung around his neck, thick arms crossed over his chest. His hair was grayer than I remembered, his horns a little duller, but his eyes were the same, already stripping me down to bone and posture.
I snorted. “Yeah, maybe. I need something for tonight.”
“Course you do,” he muttered, already moving. “Ravaric forbid any of the men in your family ever give me a heads up.”
He didn’t ask what it was for, or where I’d been all this time. Probably because he either already knew, knew better than to ask, or simply just didn’t care. He just grabbed the tape and stepped into my space without any hesitation, looping it around my shoulders, my chest, my waist.
“No silk,” I said, wondering if he still remembered what I used to order. “And no patterns.”
That earned me a grunt of approval.
“I need something black,” I added. “But not funeral black.”
Mori scoffed, his face contorting in disgust. “You think I’d dress you like a vamp?”
I swallowed back the surge of anger at even the mention of vampires. Mori noticed, huffing as he gave my shoulder an uncharacteristic squeeze before disappearing into the back.
He returned moments later with a suit bag, unzipping it with a practiced flick. Inside was a black suit, cut clean and sharp, the fabric matte. Understated and deadly.
He held it up against me, eyes narrowing. “Good,” he said. “It’ll distract people from that stupid beard.”
I slipped the jacket on and glanced at my reflection. The corner of my mouth lifted.
“She likes it,” I said.
Mori rolled his eyes as he adjusted the sleeves, tugged once at the lapel, then stepped back. “I’ll have it finished in an hour.”
I raised a brow. “That quick?”
