Lochlainn’s face hardened with anger, eyes sharpening in reprimand.
A suffocating tension rolled through the room. It wasapparent Lochlainn and Pogue’s unfinished business was about to start up again, and I had no desire to be part of it.
Cutting through the silence without hesitation, Finley firmly asked, “So are ya giving her access to your collections or not?”
My eyes softened with gratitude at him.
“Well?” I added. “We made a deal. You said I could see them.”
Lochlainn glared back, cocking his head. “The deal was on the condition you spoke to the dead runner. Which, technically, you never actually did. So—deal’s off.”
Excuse me?
I began to see red. This motherfucker was pushing all my buttons.
“That’s fucking horseshit and you know it! You wanted me to find who was behind the killing—which wedid! Hence, the fact Ialmost died!”
Was he really going to do this? Seriously going to fuck me over again? He outed my abilities, broke his promise, and I still had the decency to let it go and help him! Now this bullshit?
Absolutelynot.
Something itched under my skin, mental and maddening. It was only getting worse.
Ihadto see the collection. Maybe I was fixating too much on the relics, but I swear something was drawing me closer to them.Nowasn’t an answer I’d accept. I was going to see those collections, one way or another.
Livid, I stalked towards him, hungering to wring my hands around his neck.
The room darkened with my every step, the Hallowborn in me awakening.
“You manipulative, scheming, fuckwit! Is this all a joke to you?”
I shoved him . . .hard. He fell back into the desk with a loud thud, rattling everything on it.
I wasn’t one to get physical. But I’d had enough of the mind games.
Not using my ability frequently had left it coiled tight inside me like raw, pent-up energy, desperate for release.
An amused chuckle rumbled from the fireplace, shocking me out of my blackout fury.
“A sweet fragrant rose, with poison-barbed thorns.” Pogue grinned devilishly, still laughing.
I could only leer at him, confused. Was it mockery? Admiration? From what little I’ve witnessed from Pogue—probably both.
Finley wedged between Lochlainn and me, arms raised, playing peacekeeper. “Loch, that’s a dick move and you know it! Just let her see them!”
Lochlainn didn’t even look at him. The prick just flashed me a cocky, conceded grin as he straightened his shirt.
That was all it took for me to snap . . .
“No, you know what—that’s just fine,” I said with a savage smile. “It’s funny really, human folklore always painted Leprechauns as selfish, money-grubbing, disgusting little imps who thrived on trickery and greed.” I laced my words in venom. “I don’t think they were too far off.” My eyes viciously narrowed. “Sad really. To never know true connection with anyone. Just a life driven by materialism. Easy to be heartless when it’s vaulted away, right? But tell me, Lochlainn—how much gold does it take to fill that miserable, forsaken void?”
I heard someone suck in a breath but couldn’t tell which man it came from.
I took a gamble on poking thelocked-his-heart-awayrumor. But given the unsettling silence, it must’ve been true.
Lochlainn was an unflinching statue. If my words struckhim, his face didn’t show it. But those eyes bore into mine with an unnerving calm.
He took a slow step forward.
