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Sam sat back, one hand pressed to her stomach. “Liv.”

“The assassin. The demon lord. My stalker. My mate. All the same person.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my mouth and tried to hold myself together, but the laugh shook loose anyway, then turned into another sob so fast my body gave me no warning. “I feel stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid.”

My throat tightened until breathing felt expensive. “He let me leave.”

Sam’s gaze softened with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“I told him to stay away, and he said okay.” The mark pulsed under my collar. “He watched me walk into the elevator. He didn’t grab me. Didn’t order security to stop me. Didn’t follow me.” My laugh shook.

Mandi squeezed my knee. “Bare minimum behavior does not earn a parade.”

“Exactly,” Sam said.

“I know.” I nodded too hard. “I know that. The cameras are still fucked. The lie is still fucked. Him being sad about the consequences does not turn him into a wounded puppy.”

Mandi lifted a finger. “A wounded hellhound, maybe.”

“Doesn’t help.”

“What? Lux Draven is half hellhound.”

Sam’s mouth twitched, but her eyes stayed on me. “Liv, you get to take up space. You get to be angry. You get to miss him. You get to hate the part of you that wants to go back. None of that means you owe him anything.”

The bell chimed again. All three of us went silent. My pulse kicked so hard the mark burned. The door opened, and Kalon stepped inside with one hand resting on the holster at his side.

His blond hair was mussed, his jaw tight, his clothes too clean for a man walking into the emotional crime scene formerly known as my workplace. His eyes moved over the room fast. Locked door. Sam standing. Mandi crouched in front of me. My face. My neck.

Then his hand left the holster.

“Liv.”

My chair scraped back. The boba sloshed over my fingers, cold and sticky. “No.”

Kalon’s brows drew together, and his hands came up. “I came as a friend.”

“You came armed.”

“The city is dangerous right now.”

Sam moved closer to me. “Kalon, why are you here?”

Mandi rose beside her, shoulders squared. “Choose your next words very carefully.”

Kalon glanced at Mandi, then back to me. His face had guilt written all over it. Pretty, polished, expensive guilt.

My stomach dropped. “No.” I stepped around the chair. “Absolutely not.”

“Liv, listen.”

“He sent you.”

Kalon’s mouth closed. That was an answer. Heat rushed up my neck, into my face, behind my eyes. The mark pulsed, hungry and angry, as if Lux’s name had teeth under my skin.

I laughed once. “Wow.”

Kalon shook his head. “Lux didn’t send me.”