Samick should’ve sensed him. Felt him advance. Knew he was there before he could pull the trigger.
I glance at the open doorway.
All I see are the gleams of the torch flames climbing over the grey concrete and flickering shadows.
I doubt anyone stands on the other side of the cell. Because I really don’t think Mika would talk to me like this if anyone was there, listening, paying attention.
She sneaks in moments when she can.
She’s a curious fae.
Too curious about Samick—and me.
Her blue-tinted clear eyes fix on me. “Why?”
Such a simple word, but a blunt question.
I know exactly what she’s asking—what she’s implying.
How did a human manage to sneak up on Samick and fire a shot at him in the showers?
I don’t answer.
I just hold her stare, and after a long moment, she shakes her head and looks down at her boots.
She starts on her laces again. “Males are bad.”
My mouth sucks inwards. I chew on my lips for a moment.
Mika isn’t wrong.
Males are bad.
The worst.
All of them, human and fae.
I don’t have to tell the truth for Mika to put the pieces together.
Samick was distracted, too preoccupied by what he was doing to me to sense that the man was creeping up on us.
If I didn’t tell him, if I didn’t warn him about the gun, he might have been hit by the shrapnel.
Maybe I should’ve let it happen.
This is all starting to feel a lot more dangerous than I can handle.
Loathing finally comes. It creeps through my veins like a poison, and I turn a dark look on Mika.
“What about you?” I challenge—but my courage fails me, and my voice is small. “Is Arwyn bad too?”
Her tired gaze lifts.
The meaning of my words isn’t lost on her.
The corner of her mouth tugs upwards, but there’s not enough energy in her to smirk. “Brother.”
For a beat, I just stare at her.
