Page 43 of Breathe Like Hell

“How fucking long is it going to take to kill him?” My voice rose in volume. “I want to live my life! And how did you even find me?”

“You’re so careless with your safety,” Micah said in a low tone, guiding me to the passenger door of his Audi. “I hate it. I fucking hate it, Dakota. I need you to be okay.”

His eyes latched onto mine, sincere but angry—and I felt guilty for it.

“Why?”

“Why?” He swallowed, glanced away from me for an instant, then looked back. “Why do I need you to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Is it not obvious to you?”

“Not really.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“Micah,” I protested. “That’s stupid.”

“I don’t want to tell you like this. Get in the car.”

“You’re being so fucking cryptic. And you still won’t tell me how you even found me.”

“Because I followed you, from the minute you snuck out of my house. Did you honestly think I didn’t know you were going to do that?” He lowered his head, leaning his face closer to mine. “You can’t lie to me. I’m not stupid, as much as you clearly want to believe otherwise.”

“I don’t⁠—”

“Get in the car.” He gestured to the open door again.

“You followed me?”

“Yes. And it concerns me that you didn’t notice that.”

My brows pushed together. “You obviously didn’t want me to see you.”

“Do you think Aamon is going to give you time to see him and prepare before he breaks your fucking neck? You saw him at your trailer because that was the first time he ever noticed you. He wanted to see you, wanted to figure out who you were. But trust me, he’s about as good at hunting as you’d expect an angel-demon hybrid to be. So don’t do this shit again.”

“Why did you let me leave?”

His eyes darkened with more anger, his grip on my arm tightening. “You’re mad I let you do things, and also mad when I don’t let you do them. What do you want? Would you have preferred I stop you the second you walked out my back door, so you’d never see your friend?”

“Whatever.” I wrenched myself out of his grip and climbed into the passenger seat. He had a point. I wasn’t being consistent—but was I ever consistent? No. Neither was he.

Micah shut the door and went to his side of the car.

“It’s taking longer than I thought to kill him because he’s especially motivated to stay alive right now,” Micah explained, not looking at me. It was quiet in the car. No music, and the noise of the engine was low. “Mason can’t find him.”

“Okay.” I crossed my arms. “How does he usually find demons, then?”

“He only finds them because they’re killing angels, and he can track the scent of the ichor or necrichor. But if Aamon’s smart, he’s not messing with that stuff right now. He knows what Mason wants to do.”

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“It’s not straightforward,” Micah sighed. “It won’t be hard to kill him if Mason and I are both prepared, but it’s fucking impossible to find him in a place where we can do it.”

He put the car in gear and drove us back to his house.

CHAPTER TWELVE