Page 22 of Reign

The words leave me like poison.

For half a heartbeat, I almost want them back.

Angelo’s glass shatters against the floor.

I scream before I understand why.

He lunges. Gunmetal glints.

My brother is pointing a gun at me.

At what I said. At the wound I just opened.

But Riot is in front of me before the thought can finish forming.

His body blocks mine completely, broad shoulders filling my vision, hands raised.

Shielding me from Angelo.

“Back off,” Riot says.

His voice belongs to the soldier now, the violence he keeps leashed stepping forward without hesitation.

“We’re going to go.”

Angelo keeps the gun raised, jaw clenched, body shaking, eyes locked on me. A promise lives in them—the kind that ends with blood on the floor.

A broken sound catches in my throat.

Riot’s arm slides around me as he steps backward, taking me with him.

I should say something vicious. Throw one final match into the room because it feels unfair to burn alone.

But then Adriana steps in front of Angelo.

Her legs look unsteady. Her hands cup his face, forcing his eyes to hers.

She whispers to him. Calming him.

I hate her.

I hate her so much.

I hate that her voice works.

I hate that Angelo looks at her.

I hate that she can touch the rage in him and soften it while I’ve spent my whole life being cut by its edges.

And I hate most of all that she might be saving me.

Riot keeps moving.

“Walk,” he murmurs.

“I’m not—”

“Elena.”