I instantly understood. A fireplace crackled merrily on one side of the room. I couldn’t begin to fathom the intricacies and power that Delilah had put into structuring this safehouse, but the building itself seemed like an extension of her, mirroring her hospitality. Even the curtains seemed to know to stay shut tight in this cozy sanctuary of a room, providing much-needed isolation from the outside.
Hesitantly, I turned to Zia and offered a sheepish smile. “If it isn’t too much to ask…”
She zeroed in on my injury at once. “Of course. Your poor leg.”
As much as I feared she would protest to another healing, Zia’s eagerness was almost as flustering. When it was for helping as opposed to bringing harm, her magic may as well have been an open tap.
She beckoned me to sit and went straight to work. Her healing capabilities were nothing short of miraculous. She spoke her incantations with a cadence I had never heard in any spellwork, almost as though she was singing the verses instead of simply chanting them.
I sighed my thanks, stunned by how swiftly and entirely she mended the deep ache in my calf. Having performed great feats of healing on the hunters, I considered myself quite skilled for a secondary affinity healer, but I was staggeringly outmatched by Zia.
“Would you like me to do something for your mind?” Zia asked after thoroughly ensuring that my leg no longer held the barest hint of pain.
“You can do that?”
She stroked hair off my face and left her fingertips at my temple. “I could help you sleep. Or fill your senses with your favorite smells and memories to set your soul at peace.”
“Can I have ten of those?” Ben muttered, and I elbowed him lightly.
Tempting as Zia’s offer was, exhaustion wavered behind her kind eyes. “I can’t ask that,” I said. “You’ve already been through more than enough.”
“It’s no trouble. I’ll be casting it on both Rowan and myself when we finally lay our heads down tonight.” Her smile widened. “Truthfully, after days of having my magic stifled, I can think of no greater joy than to wield it for friends.”
We drew apart as Zia looked past me and stiffened. I heard it too: a faint creak of footsteps, like the approaching person couldn’t decide whether to fully cross the threshold or not.
Cliff filled the doorway tentatively, a sheepish half-smirk ghosting his lips as we locked eyes.
“Sorry, I—” He cleared his throat, gaze flighty. “I was just… Actually, I should check if Jon needs something.”
“We don’t bite, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Zia called over. Although she couldn’t entirely mask her apprehension, she still gave a waggle of her fingers, inviting him in.
While Rowan gave Zia a reproachful glance, Cliff’s shoulders loosened at the light jab. He paused, studying the four of us before entering the room.
Cliff had changed into clean, casual clothes that had to have been loaned from Lee, the way the shirt hugged just a little tighter than usual around his muscular frame. He paced around the sturdy leather armchairs, sharp eyes making note of every peculiar detail and sentimental touch that was ingrained into this place.
I didn’t say anything, my mouth dry and body tensing with every inch he grew closer. I found myself caught between the familiar urge to fly to him and assess him for wounds, or demanding that he put as much space between us as physically possible.
“Figures Delilah would be into the whole moody paintings thing,” he remarked, nodding at the oil paintings framed on the emerald green walls.
Each gilded frame boasted ethereal landscapes, some including scantily clad women with their faces tipped up to the soft glow of the full moon. The brush strokes were often hazy and visible, giving the art a beautiful but vaguely unsettling aura. Some looked ancient, and knowing Lee’s proclivity for white-collar thefts, I wondered if he’d gifted a few of these to her in a grand, romantic gesture.
Cliff spent a few tense seconds dragging out the inevitable, picking at the edge of a dusty frame—anything but looking at us directly.
“I know I’m the last mug you wanna see right now, but I wanted to clear the air between us. The things I said…” He rubbed his face with both hands. When he surfaced, his red-rimmed eyes were fixed on me like I was the only person in the room. “I’m sorry.”
I knew every second I didn’t answer wounded him, cutting deeper. But evenlookingat him still hurt.
“You’re a better actor than I gave you credit for,” I finally said. “Did you get what you needed in the end?”
Cliff nodded. “His phone is packed with evidence on this Spencer Price fucker, and I got a good look at the location of the facility they were routed to, in addition to everything we heard.”
Ben released a shudder at the very mention of the facility, and I could hardly blame him. After he’d dodged that fate for years, we had nearly found our death at that place tonight.
“Good,” I clipped out. “That’s good.”
Cliff’s jaw tightened, like he was swallowing back words. I’d rarely seen him like this—so unraveled, sofragile. He mustered the courage to inch closer to me, pulling an ottoman to take a seat next to the table we were perched on.
“You can stay mad at me.” His voice was low and unnervingly gentle. “It’s alright, I get that. Hell, I deserve that. But I need you to hear me when I say this: I would never,everhurt you, Sylv.”
