“You can’t just kill everyone, Elliot. That’s how we got here in the first place, remember?”
“I will if I have to.”
“Maybe we should just give her what she wants,” I suggest.
“Says the one she doesn’t want,” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not relinquishing my claim on you, Iris. Without it, the Crescent treaties can’t protect you. I wouldn’t be able to intervene if the Inquisition connects the dots. There’d be nothing standing in their way.”
I throw my hands up.
“What difference does it make if she releases the photo?”
“She won’t release it,” he says, sounding much too sure of himself.
“How do you know?”
“Because I promised that if she does, I’ll cut her pack ties. Nothing is that important. Not to anyone.”
He shakes his head as if this is a definitive fact, etched into ancient stone. Maybe it is, I’m not a wolf, so I wouldn’t really know.
“Well, what are we supposed to do about you two then?”
Elliot shrugs.
“It’s not true,” he says. “So who cares?”
“I do,” I snap. “I look like an idiot.”
He groans at the ceiling.
“Fine. We’ll put on a better show and just tell people it was a skinwalker. Happy?”
My face runs slack as my patience wears out.
“No, not happy. That’s stupid.”
“Oh, come on. These people will believe anything if you say it with enough confidence.”
He’s not entirely wrong about that. Half the rumors I hear about myself are so ridiculous I can’t believe anyone with half a brain thinks they’re true.
“Wait. Where did you hear your dick would fall off from looking at me?”
Elliot claps his hands together as he barks out a hearty laugh, the sound rising into the rafters before folding back in on us like thunder.
“You like that one?” he asks, practically wheezing as he clutches his stomach. “I started it myself.”
I pick up a stray book and chuck it at him.
“That’s not funny!”
Elliot ducks, but the book turns out to be enchanted. It takes flight about midrange, leaving him unpunished, smiling at me like a fool.
“It’s a little funny,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes. “And it’s working. At this point, who gives a fuck.”
“Atthispoint?” I ask, arching a brow.
“I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s alright,” I say. “I’m not stupid, I know what everyone thinks of me.”
