Page 44

Anger flares again, weaker this time. “She does not understand what he is.”

“Then tell her,” Alcott orders.

“I cannot.” My arms are outstretched again in frustration.

“Why?” My brother’s face has transformed into pure irritation.

I explain, “Because then she will run toward the danger just to spite me.”

Alcott’s mouth twitches. “She does seem the type.”

A laugh tries to escape me and dies somewhere in my throat. My brother looks at my bleeding knuckles and sighs. “Sit down before you bleed on the good floor.”

“It is already ruined,” I retort.

“Yes, well, you have made certain of that,” he states matter-of-factly.

He retrieves a cloth from the counter and takes my hand before I can protest. His touch is careful and a memory surfaces without permission. Smaller hands, a cold room, me tying a strip of torn linen around his wrist because no one else would. Alcott dabbing at the blood.

“You did protect me,” he says.

The words are so quiet I nearly miss them. I study him. His gaze remains on my knuckles.

“Not from everything,” I say.

“No one could have,” he replies.

“That is not good enough.” Alcott taps the top of my forearm in a small slap.

“It was to me,” Alcott states.

The room goes still around us and my chest tightens. Alcott finally lifts his eyes. “For all your dramatic suffering and heroic self-loathing, you seem to forget one important detail.”

“What?” I cock an eyebrow.

“I am still here.” His answer makes my throat burn.

He presses the cloth harder against my torn skin.

“And I am not here because you failed me.” I have no answer for that.

Perhaps there is none. Alcott releases my hand and steps back, the mask of amusement sliding into place again, though not as neatly as before.

“Now,” he says, clearing his throat. “Regarding Olive.”

“No.” I usher out the word.

“She wants to dismantle The Collector’s syndicate.” The statement makes my blood turn cold.

“What?” I ask, perplexed.

“Oh yes. Quite determined. Radiant, really. Terrifying. Rather arousing, if I am being honest.” He begins to smile as he tells me this information, and I cannot determine how I should feel at this moment. There have been so many negative emotions that I am drained.

“Alcott.” I shake my head back and forth in frustration.

“She took documents from Lord Mire. There were names, a series of payments and locations. I figured you’d want to know that information,” he explains.

I grip the edge of the table, my words spilling like hot lava. “She is going to get herself killed.”