Meanwhile, Logan is hanging back, apparently happy to let Damien take the lead once more, now that I’m no longer in danger.
In danger.
Why the fuck am I in danger if Damien doesn’t want to kill me anymore?
AmI in danger? Yes, Logan said I am. I believe him, though I’m not sure why.
No, I really shouldn’t fucking believe him. What the hell is wrong with me?
But that’s not the mystery. That’s not what I’ve been trying to solve since the very beginning. Until my thoughts became so focused on Quill and myself I forgot what really mattered.
My parents. Myrealones.
Even if Lia was my birth mother, the only parents I have are Laura and William Day. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.
My stomach twists with guilt as I realize that lately, their deaths have been pushed to the background, what with everything that has happened.
I’m betraying their memory, I think with a lump in my throat. I always told myself that even if I didn’t come first with my parents, they came first for me.
Suddenly I wonder if I did once come first for Lia.
Maybe, in some weird, distorted way, I could come first for Logan, too. Didn’t he go behind his best friend’s back to save me?
No.
What kind of a daughter am I?
Quill pretty much confirmed their death was a soldier kill. Devil soldiers carry out Devil orders. Which means Damien Wells and Logan Colt are responsible for everything.
All my anger and self-hatred come surging back as I realize I’ve been playing nice with the people who ordered my parents’ death.
I clench my jaw and resolutely face the two men who seem to be getting more impatient by the minute. Well, at least Damien is. Logan, meanwhile, is typing away on his phone, apparently no longer caring about a thing now that I’m safely trapped in an apartment in Devil Tower.
In a strangled voice, I ask, “Why did you kill my parents? Myrealparents? Why did you kill them?”
That question seems to take them both by surprise. Logan looks up from his phone, raising an eyebrow while Damien turns a cold gaze on me that makes me shiver.
For a moment, neither of them say a word. Then Damien speaks.
“We didn’t kill them, Piper.”
“You didn’t.” I repeat the words in a disbelieving snort. I may be lacking in brain cells, as Damien says, but I’m definitely notthatdumb. “I don’t believe that for one second. It was a Devil kill.”
“It was asoldierkill,” corrects Damien, as if that makes any difference. “Neither Logan nor I ordered it. And we have no idea whodid.” He looks at me intently. “I was expecting you to ask why I wanted to kill you.”
“Well, you said only one question, and I asked the most important one.”
“Good girl,” says Logan, and I snort again loudly. “Snorting is not very elegant, Piper.”
I roll my eyes so hard that it makes me wonder if my eyeballs are going to get stuck like that. Or at least, if Logan is going to make a comment to that effect. Luckily, he turns his attention back to his phone screen.
“Okay, I won’t snort anymore,” I say facetiously to the bloodthirsty killer who’s back to typing away. Then I turn to Damien expectantly.
“I wanted to kill you,” he continues, somewhat dramatically, “because you’re a loose end to a problem that I really didnotwant to deal with.”
“A problem?”
“Yeah. One of those little, annoying problems that could bring all of Devil down.”
