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Raze’s palm slams down against the table.

Everyone shuts up.

“You’d kill her…” he growls, staring straight at Thessaly, “… over a fucking voice?”

“I’d kill her over Conclave law.” Thessaly’s chin lifts, but the hand hanging at her side curls tight enough to whiten her knuckles. “I don’t make the statute. I simply enforce it.” Her eyes stay on mine for another second, then the water moves.

Every drop she brought into the clubhouse tears backward at once, rushing past boots and chair legs before gathering around Thessaly. The two enforcers step in behind her as water climbs their bodies, twisting higher until a wall of churning blue surrounds all three women.

Brothers stumble back, Carnage yanks me against him, turning his body in front of mine while Scar pulls Cali clear and Raze throws an arm across Roxy.

Thessaly never looks away from me while the water climbs over her shoulders.

“Three days, Echo.” This time her voice carries the song.

Harmony fills the clubhouse, beautiful enough to make my chest ache, but there’s no command buried inside it. No pull toward the water. Just Thessaly making damn sure those words stay with me long after she’s gone.

The wave crashes inward, and I flinch against Carnage as water slams together where Thessaly and her enforcers were standing, exploding into mist that races across the room.

Then it drops.

Gallons of water hit the floorboards in one enormous splash, and Thessaly is gone.

And the enforcers with her.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” Ruckus mutters somewhere behind me.

But I barely hear him.

My eyes stay locked on the open doors and the darkness beyond them.

Three days. The words keep circling until everything else in the clubhouse starts pressing in—the brothers talking behind me, water dripping from the table, Roxy asking Raze something I can’t make out, and someone swearing about the floor.

I need air.

I take one step toward the doors, but Carnage catches my wrist.

I stop and look back at him. His eyes are still almost completely black, his hellhound riding so close beneath his skin that heat rolls from his body. He looks from me to the open doors, then back again, his grip tightening when I try to move.

“Carnage.”

He shakes his head. Hard.

“I’m just going outside.”

Another shake.

His free hand comes up to my face, his rough palm cupping my cheek while his eyes move over me, my face, my throat, then back to my eyes. His thumb drags beneath one of them, and only then do I realize tears are sitting there.

Fuck.

“I’m okay.”

His eyebrows shoot up like he doesn’t believe me.

“Okay, fine… that was bullshit.”

His mouth tightens, and he nods.