Murtaugh doesn’t even glance up from his notes. “It means he broke my sister’s heart for you and she hasn’t fully recovered.”
I cough.
Sisk looks at me.
Viper laughs softly and starts walking toward me like this is a continuation of a private conversation and Sisk’s just background noise.
“He’s not wrong,” she says and she takes my arm without permission, her fingers sliding up the inside of my elbow to pushmy sleeve back, exposing the tar vein she’s drawn blood from more times than I can count.
Sisk goes rigid.
“You’re tense,” Viper murmurs, thumb dragging lightly over my vein. “I hope that doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
Sisk’s voice is calm. Too calm. “It might have to do with the fact that he’s deteriorating.”
Viper glances at her. “Oh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
Murtaugh hums approvingly.
Viper’s thumb presses harder into my vein. Sisk is staring, and the fun I was having a second ago just evaporates. I shift my weight, suddenly wishing I was anywhere else.
“I’m fine,” I grit out, staring at the far wall.
Sisk steps closer.
“Good,” Viper says softly. “Because if this was about me, that would be deeply embarrassing.”
Sisk tilts her head slightly. “Viper, isn’t it? Very creative. Are you done performing,” she asks softly, “or do you need the spotlight a little longer?” Her eyes flick to the hand still wrapped around my arm. “Because I’d like to get back to the part where he might die.”
Murtaugh’s pen actually pauses.
Viper’s smile doesn’t disappear—it just tightens. “Feisty for a ballerina,” she says lightly. “Or is it just dance instructor now? Jax told me about your almost.”
“Almost?” Sisk repeats mildly. “Is that what he told you? The reason I’m teaching now? That I didn’t make it?”
“I didn’t say that?—”
“It’s fine, Jax,” Sisk cuts me off. Her eyes drift slowly over the leather, the snake, the posture. “She’s bitter because shealmosthad you.”
I physically feel the temperature in the room shift.
Viper exhales through her nose. “Oh sweetheart,” she says, stepping closer, “if I’d wanted to keep him?—”
“Nobody cares,” Sisk cuts in.
Viper’s hand twitches but her fingers trail higher on my arm, inspecting the dark vein threading faintly under my skin. “It’s spreading,” she says, changing the topic. Her finger traces up toward my bicep.
“Enough,” I snarl, ripping my arm away.
The copper bowl flares, the blue flame surges high. Every loose instrument on the table rattles, the brass compass device spins violently before snapping toward Sisk like it found north.
No one moves.
Murtaugh exhales. “Interesting.”
Viper actually steps back.
“What do you know about the eclipse?” I ask Murtaugh, cutting the tension clean down the middle.
