“It’s been hectic lately,” he states.
“That’s the understatement of the century.”
“We’ve been in binds before.” Leonard leans back, giving me a crooked smirk. “Remember Prague? When I thought I could take two shifters at once?”
I huff a laugh. “Thought? You went through a tavern wall. The whole place collapsed before I could drag your sorry ass out.”
His grin widens. “Worth it. Pretty sure I still have a splinter lodged somewhere inappropriate.”
I shake my head, lips twitching. “Gods, you’re an idiot.”
“Bold talk,” he fires back, “coming from the man who tracked a drunk hunter for two days because you thought he was a rogue.”
An unguarded laugh bursts out of me. “He reeked of ale—I was convinced it was blood.”
Leonard chuckles, and the sound loosens something in me I hadn’t realized was clenched. Scars, mistakes, close calls—we tell them like they’re jokes, and maybe they are. But beneath the laughter is the truth: we survived. And right now, that feels like enough to believe we’ll survive this too.
Then Leonard tilts his head, eyes narrowing with a knowing glint. “Never thought I’d see you like this. Almost settled. Almost like a man falling in love with his sworn enemy.”
The words snag. Just for a second. I school my face quickly before it can betray me. A laugh slips out, lighter than I feel. “Don’t start.” I wave him off, hoping he’ll take the hint.
He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.
“She’s not the enemy anymore—at least, not judging from the sounds coming out of your room late at night.”
I cut him a look. “If you think I’m discussing my sex life with you, you’re insane.”
Leonard slaps the arm of the couch, grinning like a wolf. “Aha! I knew it.”
“Leonard.” My voice comes out as a growl.
He raises his hands in mock innocence. “Fine, fine. I’ll shut up. But I am saying ‘I told you so’.”
I grab a coaster off the table and whip it at him. It nails him square on the nose.
“Fuck, Marcus!” he yelps, clutching his face.
“I warned you.”
He peeks over his hand, grinning through the wince. “For what it’s worth? I like her.”
I don’t answer, just lean back in the chair, but something in my chest eases. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted his approval until he gave it.
27
ESMERELDA
The sun bleeds out across the horizon as Minerva and I finish getting ready, the last streaks of gold slipping stubbornly through the hotel curtains. The light clings to the walls, as if reluctant to let go, and I can’t blame it. The air feels different now—thick, electric—like the city itself knows danger is coming and we’re supposed to prevent it. It’s a daunting thought.
I catch Minerva’s eye in the glass, and she smirks as if she can read my mind. Maybe she can. She always did have a talent for peeling me open with a look.
“Ready?” she asks, casually. Too casually.
“Not even a little,” I mutter, tugging at the hem of my top like it might anchor me. Then I grin, teeth bared. “But let’s give them a show anyway.”
Minerva checks her reflection in the mirror, whip coiled neatly at her hip like it’s an accessory she picked up at a boutique instead of a weapon designed to slit throats. My stomach knots, but I smooth my hands down my clothes anyway, as if pressing the fabric flat might press the nerves out of me.
We look the part—power and purpose draped in expensive clothing, like we were born to own the night. From theoutside, we’re lethal. Untouchable. But inside? I’m nothing but jittery nerves and fearful thoughts, one wrong move away from disaster.
