"Is that a compliment?" I asked, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice. "From you?"
His mouth curved, a gesture that had nothing to do with humor. "It's a warning dressed up as one."
I pushed back against the headboard, putting what little distance I could between us in the small room. My sleep shirt, one of Grayson's old tees, slipped off one shoulder, but I didn't bother adjusting it. Let Ro be uncomfortable. He deserved it for breaking into my room at... I glanced at the clock... 4:17 in the morning.
"I'm in a lot of danger, aren't I?" I asked, cutting straight to the point. No point dancing around it. "More than just the usual 'half-demon whose father once annoyed hell' danger."
He nodded once, sharp and decisive. "The demon you expelled was a scout. Part of a network."
My stomach twisted. "What kind of network?"
"The kind that's been waiting for someone exactly like you to slip up." He took a single step closer, the shadows shifting around him like living things. "By expelling it—by using chaos/intention magic in front of witnesses—you've announced yourself to something much older and larger than my usual enemies."
The air between us felt suddenly charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. "You mean Zandia's enemies."
"I mean entities that make Zandia look like an amateur." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "The Soul Ring forming and then going missing woke up whatever wasn't already paying attention. Your witch's blood is awakening. You bonding with your mates one by one. All of it has been watched. Has been for longer than you know."
Something cold slithered down my spine. "Who is watching?"
He paused, the hesitation was so brief I almost missed it. But I caught the flash of something crossing his face before his expression smoothed back to its usual mask.
"Someone who's been in your life as long as I have," he finally said.
The words landed like stones. Someone in my life already. Someone close enough to watch me constantly, to track my every move without me noticing. The possibilities raced through my mind, but none of them fit. None of them had been in my life "longer" than Ro.
"How?" I demanded.
His smile turned bitter. "I pay attention, Parker. To details, to patterns, to you. So do they."
The simple statement hung between us, weighted with implications I wasn't ready to examine.
Something softened in my chest, a feeling I quickly smothered before it could take root. I'd seen glimpses of this before… Ro stepping between me and danger without being asked, Ro showing up exactly when things were about to go sideways, Ro knowing things about me he had no logical way of knowing. But hearing it acknowledged, however obliquely, made it real in a way I couldn't dismiss.
"That's... actually kind of creepy," I said, aiming for levity and missing by a mile.
His eyes met mine, intense and unreadable. "I know."
We stared at each other in the half-dark, an understanding passing between us that I couldn't put into words and he wouldn't. Ro was on my side. Not openly, not in a way that made him vulnerable, but consistently, quietly, in all the ways that mattered. And somehow, impossibly, I'd started to trust that. To rely on it, even.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Put the ring back on," he said, voice harder now, edged with urgency. "Embrace what you are. The demon half isn't a liability… it's armor."
I shook my head. "No."
No explanation. No justification. Just a flat refusal that hung in the air between us.
Ro's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. "You're in danger as long as that ring exists and you're not wearing it. Every creature who can smell demon blood knows what a free soul ring means. You're a beacon."
"I'll deal with that," I said, voice steadier than I felt.
He stared at me for a long moment, frustration and something darker moving behind his eyes. I expected anger. Demands. Threats, maybe. What I got was worse… silent acceptance. He wouldn't push. Couldn't. Because forcing me to wear the ring would be no better than Zandia's manipulations, and Ro, for all his darkness, had manipulated me to a certain point but never passed it.
"Get your bonds complete," he said finally, each word precise. "All of them. You don't have much time before—" He stopped abruptly, cutting himself off.
"Before what?" I pressed, leaning forward.
He shook his head. "Just do it."
And then he was gone, slipping through time and space, leaving nothing but a whisper of displaced air and the lingering scent of smoke and cinnamon.
