An absurd, ridiculous sentiment.
One he couldn’t stop.
He flexed his fingers, the leather biting into his knuckles, and staring at the closed door like it might spit her back out. But she didn’t return. Of course she didn’t. She’d kissed him, rattled him to his bones, and finally fled after she heard Reaper’s voice in the hallway.
Sensible. Smart, even.
He wanted to go after her. Fortunately, he’d managed to stop himself. Monsters shouldn’t want to want innocent angels.
The next tap on the door was too hard to be polite. Pushing it open before Maxen could answer, Drake stalked in, boots muddy and mood fouler than usual. “Serpent is awake, stubborn as hell and downstairs, dead set on hunting down his assailants.”
Maxen cursed.
Naturally, his brother was already plotting revenge. The man had a dagger stitched into his soul and patience stitched nowhere at all.
Drake ran a hand through his hair. “He’s bandaged and barelystanding, but he won’t listen to sense. Saint’s holding him back for now.”
Damn it.
Events were spiraling too fast, too personal. “Who the bloody hell could be hiding in the shadows?” Maxen asked. “The same ones who torched the warehouses or someone different?”
“The same,” Drake said. “I’d bet my dagger on it.”
“Then it’s a message?”
Drake snorted. “More like a dare.”
Could very well be. Enemies were nothing new. Rival crews. Smugglers with grudges. Aristocrats with their noses bent out of shape. But this? This felt different. Too precise. Too damn pointed. Fires, ambushes, shadows tailing Calliope’s every step. This wasn’t business. This was damn personal. As if someone wanted them all off-balance. And knew exactly which thread to yank to unravel him. And they were right.
There was a knock again, and Knight slipped in, face resembling a block of stone. “Saint wants to take a stroll tonight.”
“No,” Maxen said at once.
“He says it’s the only way to calm Serpent’s temper.”
Maxen swore under his breath. “Knock Serpent out if you have to. No one is leaving Fury’s tonight.”
Knight gave a curt nod. “Reaper spotted a little tail through the window. Someone’s watching the tavern. Could be watching us. Could be waiting for her.”
A chill instantly spread through him. Maxen turned slowly to the window, but he didn’t move. Waiting for her? They’d wait forever.
“Could be both,” Drake offered.
Knight met his gaze. “She’s the oddest piece on the board.”
She was. She was the only thing here now that hadn’t been here before. Maxen’s hand curled into a fist. “We should delay fishing out the rat.”
Knight’s tone stayed level. “We can fish them out clean. Controlled. We set the trap, they come spy, we follow them back.”
Maxen shook his head. “We don’t even know who ‘they’ are.”
“We will,” Drake said quietly, “if they take the bait.”
Maxen paced to the unlit fireplace, planted a hand on the mantel. His shoulders coiled tight, jaw locked. Whoever was starting fires was taunting them. They must be aware of Serpent’s history, too. He felt it in his bones. And they were also using Calliope.
Unacceptable.
Both things. Every instinct in him revolted at the idea of putting her and his brothers in the path of a threat. Even in pretend. Even surrounded by every brother he trusted. Even if shevolunteered.
