I stop listening. Instead, I grab my bag and fling the front door open.
“Scout! Wait!”
I thought he wassafe. I thought my husband would protect me.
Instead, a horrid realization hits me.
I’m married to the enemy.
twenty-nine
The door slamshard enough to rattle my insides.
I’m shaking. Brain splitting into seven directions so fast I can’t capture one thought. But I’ve heard enough.
I believe Scout about the dean. I do.
But the president planted something in my head—and I can’t dig it out.
Paranoia.
Why suggest it unless she wants me to doubt my own wife?Or unless she knows something I don’t.
I have to protect us. And right now, the safest thing we can do is to follow the orders. Not make waves. Getting married and wearing bracelets? That’s not a big deal. I’m not sure why Scout’s making it one.
If they’re tracking us…why? Is it just to monitor her cycles to alert us for the best time to have a baby? My head throbs with a deep ache. Why do they want us to have a child sobadly?
I need to stop questioning this. Because questions? They won’t keep her safe.
If we don’t obey, things could get dangerous. The president could send the Amethyst Order after us.
Either way…at this very moment? Ayan Dutta’s father looks a hell of a lot like a problem. One the university won’t solve. So I’m suddenly eager to fix it myself.
For my wife.
Valen’s bored.As usual. Pacing like the walls are too close. Checking his phone like it’s got the game on. It doesn’t. I checked.
Nico’s smoking slowly. Leaning against the garage wall like he’s holding it up. Jumpsuit saturated with oil. Hands covered in thick gloves.
“You could set the whole place on fire. You know that, right?”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Sure, Dad. You want one?” Tapping the pack, he holds a cigarette out for me, but I shake my head.
“No.”
“I want one!” Oz, Valen’s cousin, bounds forward to snag it. With his eyes scrutinizing me, he wipes his hands off on his dirty jumpsuit before lighting up. As he saunters by, he gives me a wink and blows the smoke right in my face.
“These aren’t the good ratchet straps,” I grunt as I tighten the buckle.
“Why are you complaining? I hauled,” Nico snaps,looking at his soaked gloves. Cigarette perched between his teeth. “Toss me those towels.”
Oz throws him a handful of old rags.
“This is a fucking mess,” Oz spits out, waving the lit end of the butt around the dirty garage. “Not to mention, all those dark stains.”
“Peroxide.”
We all stop and glance over at Val. He shrugs. “Peroxide should work on them.”
