As Lie the Dead

Chapter Twenty-one

6:10 P.M.

Being on the outs with the Triads meant I had no access to all their fun surveillance equipment, hence my backup suggestion. After Phin got over it and realized it was our best option, I called Aurora and filled her in on the plan. She readily agreed to assist, leaving Ava in Joseph’s capable hands.

We separated in the motel parking lot. I climbed into the rental car while Phin and Wyatt walked. At the end of the block, they paused for the crosswalk signal, and Wyatt looked back. I held his gaze, even though I doubted he could see me from the distance. We hadn’t said good-bye and had not exchanged “good luck.” I was still angry, and he knew it. He also knew to leave it.

Once they reached the next block, I drove out of the lot and turned north. I had to cross the river again, and it was faster to go north to the Wharton Street Bridge. I spent the trip pondering my lack of weapons. Wyatt had searched the car while I called Aurora. All he found was a tire iron and an emergency roadside kit with two flares. The three items were on the passenger seat next to me, my only company.

No, not entirely true. My silver cross was a potential weapon, assuming I got close enough to Snow to use it. I preferred not to, though. While I’d do everything in my power to prevent the deaths of those uptight socialites, I couldn’t bring myself to crave Snow and Call’s blood. I understood the kind of pain that had driven them to the precipice we all stood upon.

Call/Cole and I were startlingly similar, and yet vastly different. We’d both lost our lives by someone else’s orders. We had both received our lives back from the same person: Wyatt Truman. The reasons didn’t matter, only the end result of new life—waking up alone, among strangers, unsure what had brought us to that point or where to go next. Cole’s new life had been infinitely harder than mine. I had Wyatt to center me and help me recover my memories. Cole had been alone.

Loneliness served my Gift as surely as that loneliness helped fuel Cole’s revenge.

I ditched the car two blocks north of our assumed perimeter, on the opposite side of the theater from where the Triads were searching, then moved south. Flares tucked down the back of my jeans and a tire iron held flush against my right arm, I stuck close to alleys and shadows, traveling fast and quiet. It was dusk, so the shadows were plentiful. Car traffic and the occasional pedestrian paid me no mind as I moved toward my predetermined destination.

The stone office building had seen better days. Two blocks from the theater and nestled between a cigarette outlet and a boarded-up apartment complex for sale, it was closed this Sunday night. I ducked into the alley between it and the cigarette outlet, making my way past a Dumpster full of rotting cardboard boxes. Out of sight of anyone on the street, I crouched and waited.

The seconds ticked by with the beats of my heart. I held the iron in my lap, ignoring the disgusting odors of mold and metal and old water. Far away, a car horn honked. Another answered. The cry of a bird startled me, and I looked up. Air stirred and a shadow descended into the alley. A bird with lovely caramel-colored feathers dotted with black specks and a grayish face blinked at me from the ground. Her small, hooked beak opened, and a quiet screech bounced off the stone wall behind me.

I stood up as the kestrel—on the phone, Aurora had told me her bird form—transformed. Her body grew. Feathers disappeared, creeping up to her head and back down in long, thick curls of hair, and elsewhere were replaced by delicate peach skin. Long wings shrank into arms, clawed feet into thin legs. Only Aurora’s eyes seemed to stay the same, as round and vivid blue as a woman as they had been in her kestrel form. Her stomach was still rounded and breasts were still swollen from her recent pregnancy, but she showed no modesty about her nakedness.

“They were taken two streets over, one up,” Aurora said. “Crawford Street, the brick building with the fire escape and the conservatory on its roof. It’s within viewing distance of the theater.”

“Thank you.”

“Should I continue to monitor—”

“No, I’ve got it from here.” I wasn’t letting her get into this fight, not with a baby at home—one who was probably five pounds heavier than she had been that afternoon.

Her eyes narrowed, mouth pressing into a thin line in a perfect imitation of Phin. “My family is there, too, Evangeline. I’m stronger than you think.” To prove her point, long and tapered wings grew from her back, much like Phin’s had when he bi-shifted. She let them span the width of the alley, impressive in their size and various shades of black, caramel, and white. Muscles rippled beneath the weight gain of pregnancy.

She had a point.

“Can you watch the theater?”

My request mollified her, but she continued to stand with her wings at full attention, like a guardian angel. A creature of legend and myth—just like her people were once believed to be. “Do you need a ride?” she asked.

I blinked. It wouldn’t exactly be a subtle form of travel, but activity in this part of the city was relatively quiet at dusk on a Sunday evening. Good thing we weren’t trying this during business hours on a weekday, or our picture would probably end up on the front page of someone’s conspiracy Web site. I took off my necklace and tucked it into my pocket. No sense in risking the silver.

I turned around and assumed the arms-crossed position I’d used with Phin, keeping the tire iron against my chest. She drew up behind me, breasts pressing into my back. Definitely the closest I’d ever been to a naked woman. Her arms looped around my ribs, locking tight.

“Hold on,” she said.

The warning was almost too late for me to brace. We were up and roaring through the air, sound beat by her wings and the rush of wind in my ears. I hadn’t expected her speed or strength, but she carried me with ease. Over the rooftops, down two blocks, and then she zoomed so low to the empty street I nearly screamed, sure we were about to crash. One more street in that direction, and then she zoomed sharply left, into yet another alley.

This one was wider than the others, big enough for a delivery van to drive through, and empty of any trash containers. She set me down on shaking legs, and I sucked in air, realizing for the first time that I’d forgotten to breathe during our flight. My chest ached from the pressure of the tire iron.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, still panting.

“Follow this alley to its end, then turn right,” she said, all business. “Across to your left is a fire escape and the building you need. Good luck, Evangeline.”

“You, too, and be careful.”

With a beaming smile, she transformed back into her kestrel form and flew into the darkening sky. I took off down the alley at a run, grateful for the proximity. The fire escape ladder wasn’t extended. Not that it mattered. I focused on the highest level, just below the roof itself, and closed my eyes. Slipped into the crackling energy of the Break, shattered, shifted, and materialized right where I wanted to be.

It was getting easier and easier.

Stomach in knots and adrenaline kicking in, I peeked over the edge of the roof. Six inches of stone dropped down about three feet to a wide, open area. Directly in front of me were dozens of cement slabs laid in no real pattern, creating a sort of patio area. Twenty-odd feet across the slabs was the stair access and elevator room. Just past it, dark glass panes visible on either side of the shed, was the greenhouse.

No one seemed to be on the lookout, which was both a relief and a surprise. Was Call really so full of himself that he didn’t think he needed protection? The sounds of the city seemed so distant, the night sky a blanket that hid our actions from the world.

The stair access door swung open with a screech, and I ducked back down, out of sight, heart slamming against my rib cage.

“This way,” someone said. Female voice, familiar. Isleen’s contact, Eleri?

The sounds of multiple people walking, shoes scuffling on the concrete, and then the same door slammed shut.

“Your boss have a green thumb?” Wyatt asked, a little out of breath. My hand jerked at the sound of his voice, and I clenched the tire iron tighter. Someone snickered. Damned good timing. They must have walked up the eight flights of stairs.

I strained to hear, their footsteps almost gone. Then something squealed—a hinge, maybe? I hazarded another look over the edge of the roof, just in time to see a door swing shut on the left side of the greenhouse. Still no sign of perimeter guards. Didn’t mean they weren’t there. I couldn’t sit and wait. Had to risk it.

I closed my eyes and transported again. The familiar dull ache began between my eyes, increasing when I materialized in front of the stair shed. I pressed my back against the metal siding and waited. No one raised any alarms or took potshots at me. I took another peek around, closer to the greenhouse. The glass panes were either painted over from the inside or covered with dark sheets of something. I couldn’t see through them, but that didn’t mean those inside were as blind.

About six feet down the wall, halfway between me and the door, was a slotted vent. Good a place as any to try to eavesdrop. I focused on it, hoped it was a blind spot, and slipped in. The headache increased as I completed my third transport in as many minutes, like tiny hammers beating my corneas. I stayed low and shifted to face the vent.

The grille was angled down, which gave me an upward view into the greenhouse. It was dim inside but not dark, lending credence to my hope that the windows were blacked out. Several bare bulbs hung from the ceiling, interspersed among rows of what were probably sunlamps, all off. Long wooden tables were empty, grayed with age. The odor of wet earth drifted out through the vent, along with the sound of voices.

“Over there,” Eleri said.

Footsteps shuffled, then four people stepped into view. Wyatt and Phin stuck close to each other, profiles to me; both were alert, prepared for attack. Eleri was directly behind them, her tall, slim form encased in black, striking white hair bundled up at the nape of her neck. She kept her gun level with their waists, clean shots at their spines.

The fourth was Snow, recognizable by shape even without his black hat. He had no weapons in his hands. I didn’t doubt they were hidden well out of sight. “Far enough,” he snapped.

The quartet stopped. Wyatt turned to glance behind him, and I saw the welt on his jaw. I bristled and directed my unnoticed glare toward Snow, silently promising he’d get one just like it before the night was done. He walked up to Wyatt and started patting him down.

“Didn’t we go through this once?” Phin asked.

“Get over it,” Snow said. “Humans can’t be trusted.”

“Is that why your boss is human?”

Snow’s fist clenched; he didn’t swing. His temper certainly had a hair trigger. Eleri’s eyes never seemed to stay still, shifting her focus from person to person. Snow finished his pat-down and moved to Phin, who looked ready to belt his fellow Therian. Wyatt—to my utter surprise—seemed like the calmest one in the group.

My entire head shuddered, as though rocked by a silent sneeze. I froze, heart pounding, alarmed at the queer sensation of absolute quiet all around me and through me. Inside the greenhouse, Wyatt scowled. And then I realized—my connection to the Break was gone. Cut off. Shit.

Behind me, the air moved. I couldn’t duck in time. Color and lights exploded behind my eyes, then my face scraped concrete. None of my limbs wanted to respond. Stupid. So fucking stupid. Something dug into my ribs and rolled me onto my back. I blinked up at a tan blur, outlined by the night sky.

“I’d say it’s nice to see you,” an unfamiliar male voice said, “but you’re supposed to be dead.”

“Didn’t take,” I mumbled, unsure if I even managed coherent words.

He chuckled. My vision cleared as the severe ache dulled to a low roar, and a face Phin had described well came into focus. Brown hair and eyes, hollow cheekbones, stretched skin. Handsome if he’d gain a few pounds and smile. Leonard Call in the flesh. And hanging from a chain around his neck was an orange crystal the length and width of a finger. A crystal I’d seen before, several days ago in an underground jail, its infused magic cutting us off from the Break.

Call reached into the front of his knee-length black linen coat and produced a sleek silver pistol. “Upsy-daisy,” he said, and pointed the muzzle at my head.

I rolled onto my side, weighing my options and trying not to vomit on his shoes. My head felt swimmy, and I took small comfort in knowing it would go away soon. More than my temporary concussion, I was worried about the extreme disadvantage at which that crystal placed us. Was it the same crystal from the jail? Had Jock Guy given it to him? Call had to be the employer the Halfie had sneered about before blowing himself up. But had they started working together before or after I was snatched and jailed five days ago?

I couldn’t seem to focus enough to put the pieces together.

He stepped back, giving me space to stand and staying well out of striking distance. Smart bastard. It took serious effort to not wince when I finally made it upright; I did manage to give him a withering glare. He was a good half foot taller than me, almost Jesse’s height, and so wiry I couldn’t imagine how he’d been in hand-to-hand combat. Swimmer’s build, indeed.

The greenhouse door swung up, and Eleri stepped out. She froze when she saw me, expression blank. I wondered briefly if Isleen had managed to tell Eleri I was an ally—and not dead. Staying in character, she allowed her blank stare to melt into incredulity, which she then turned on Call.

“Seems I’m serving as my own protection detail,” Call said, ushering me forward. Eleri bared her fangs, stayed silent.

I moved toward the door, a little unbalanced by the loss of my tap to the Break, like a cat who’d lost half her whiskers. Eleri stepped back in, and I entered the stuffy greenhouse, assaulted by the ripe odors of damp earth and rotting wood. I felt as though I were being led to the guillotine, and any chance for clemency died with the locking of the greenhouse door behind Call. I stepped around a haphazard pile of broken tables and scrap wood that blocked the door and into the larger open area.

The remaining trio was a good fifteen feet away. Instead of focusing on Wyatt and Phin—whose expressions and reactions I could guess ranged from surprise to annoyance—I looked Snow in the eye. The Therian gaped at me. A slow flush crept into his neck and cheeks. I grinned.

Snow snarled and swung his fist. He belted Phin in the nose, and I heard the stomach-churning sound of cartilage snapping. Phin flew sideways into Wyatt, who kept both of them from pitching to the ground.

“You deceiving son of a bitch,” Snow said.

Blood dripping from between the hands that clenched his nose, Phin seemed to smile at Snow’s ire. “As I said, she has a talented mouth.” His voice was muffled, like a man with a cold. “Couldn’t let that talent go to waste.”

Wyatt scowled without comment and helped Phin right himself. Snow tensed, seeming ready to hit him again.

“Settle down,” Call said. Footsteps shuffled, and it occurred to me he’d remained hidden behind the scrap pile until now. “The time for recriminations will be here soon enough. First, let’s let old friends become reacquainted.”

Wyatt had paled beyond anything I’d seen before, his skin nearly translucent. He stared just past me to my right, at Call, so tense I thought he’d pop a spring like a cartoon windup toy. Didn’t move. Barely seemed to breathe. I wanted to run over there and shake him.

“I see you remember me,” Call said, a hint of amusement in his voice. I tightened my fist, aching to take a swing at him. “Come on, Wyatt, after four years, all you can do is stand there like a mummy?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Cole,” Wyatt ground out.

“And the mummy speaks!” Call whooped like a delighted child. The sound sent a chill wiggling down my spine.

I shifted my stance enough to put Eleri at my back and Call just in the periphery of my right side. I hated having him behind me. Wyatt finally met my eyes; I made what I hoped was an “Oops” face. We were in the middle of an odd standoff, with Call/Cole directing the show.

“Aren’t you going to ask how long I’ve been back in the city?” Cole said. He circled closer to me, the muzzle of his pistol still pointed at my ribs. “Don’t you want to know what I’ve been up to? How I adapted to life in a strange city, with no memory of who I was or where I’d come from?”

“Not interested,” Wyatt replied coldly.

Cole snickered, then turned to me. “How about you, young lady? You’ve proved very hard to kill recently, you know that? I respect it, though. The Hunter’s instinct to fight and survive. We have something very much in common.”

My eyes narrowed. “I didn’t turn my back on the Triads to join forces with a bunch of fucking Dregs, asshole.”

“The brass turned on me first, but then again, I think that’s something with which you have firsthand experience, isn’t it, Evangeline?” The way he said my name made me shiver, as though he knew me. Knew every detail of my personal life, everything I’d been through in the last two weeks. Maybe he did, but that sure as hell didn’t mean he knew me, or that we were anything alike.

“Wyatt spared you,” I shot back.

“You think so?” he asked, as though we were discussing the use of cinnamon in a recipe in place of ginger. Banal conversation instead of life-and-death matters. “How would you feel if, right this moment, I shot Wyatt in the head and then put a spell on you to obliterate all your memories, sent you a hundred miles away, and left you there to forge a new life on your own? Would you feel spared if you woke up three years later and, for absolutely no reason any magic user you contact can explain, remembered your missing past? Is that being spared? Or would you feel violated? Raped of your entire existence, because I ordered it so?”

My temper reached a boiling point, overpowering any lingering ache in my head. “You have no fucking idea of the life I lost, or how I’d feel if I could put my hands around the necks of the assholes responsible. I’m still out here trying to protect this city, because that’s who I am.”

“You don’t think that’s what I’m doing?” Cole asked.

“By raising an army to squash the Triads? Hell no.”

“Even if the Triads need, as you say, squashing?”

“What gives you the right to do it?”

He smiled, and I was starting to hate how it made his face so innocent. “Interesting answer, Evangeline.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“You didn’t deny the Triads needed squashing, just said I wasn’t the person to do it.”

How the—? “You know who makes changes by imposing their will on others? Dictators.”

“Some dictators see themselves as visionaries.”

“Yeah, but history judges most of them as madmen and murderers.”

Again with his crazy smiling. “I can see why Wyatt cares about you. I imagine you drove him crazy as a Hunter. You seem the type to question things.”

I snorted. “Yeah, and I’m also the type to beat an uncooperative suspect to a pulp and laugh while doing so.”

“I hate to break up this little colleague interaction session,” Eleri said, “but time is of the essence.”

Cole pushed back the sleeve of his coat and checked his wristwatch. “Curtain goes up in twenty minutes. Thank you for reminding me, Eleri.”

Was that code? Or did he mean it was twenty minutes to seven? Either way, things had to progress faster than they were so far.

“I’m here, Cole,” Wyatt said. He took a step forward. Snow put a hand on his chest to keep him back. “What do you want?”

“Me? Not a thing, really. When I first came home, I wanted to cut your heart out with a butter knife. I watched you for a long time, making all manner of plans and contacting the right people. Then I heard about your affair with Resurrection Girl here, breaking your own fraternization rules by falling in love with your Hunter, and I decided death was too easy.”

Alarm bells clanged in my head. Through the disorientation of losing the Break and having my brain rattled by Cole, random dots finally began connecting. The orange blocking crystal. All the things he knew about us. The person helping Tovin run the mad scientist lab and control the goblin/Halfie forces. The timing of everything this past week. Jock Halfie’s admission that someone besides Tovin had employed him and his pals.

Son of a fucking bitch!

“I think someone’s put the puzzle together,” Cole said. I thought he was looking at me, but all I could do was gape at Wyatt. Wyatt just stared back, not understanding what must have been the strangest expression he’d ever seen on my face. “Go ahead and tell him, Evangeline. You know you want to tell him.”

I did. Instead, I rounded on Cole, my hatred growing. Understanding and sympathy for him had just died a quick death, and I let my disgust and rage boil over. Only the pistol, pressed to the center of my forehead, stopped me from jumping Cole. The cold metal held me there but did little to quell my fury.

“What the fuck did Tovin offer you, Cole? What did he promise you to sell out your own kind?”

Behind me, Wyatt made a strangled sound, but I had eyes only for Cole.

“Protection for Rain’s people,” Cole replied, “and for all the Therians. That when Tovin brought the Tainted over and began his rule, they would be promised independence in exchange for noninterference.” His brown eyes simmered with anger. “It seemed the very least we could ask for after the destruction of Phineas’s Clan.”

He wanted to protect the Therians because he had loved one. I understood the rationalization; however, I’d never be able to excuse his methods. Helping Tovin made him a party to the deaths of my partners, of Rufus’s Hunters, of the six who’d died at Olsmill. It made him a party to my own murder. “So you save the Therians, and humans get what? Served up as the main course for a bunch of demons while the goblins and Halfies sit around and snack?”

“I was so angry I didn’t much care what happened to humanity. All I knew was that the Therians were protected, and Snow and I would have our revenge on Wyatt for what he took from us.”

“Us?” Wyatt asked.

I backed off, sure the gun had left a little circular dent in my forehead, and looked over my shoulder. Snow leered at Wyatt, as if sizing him up for a fire spit.

“Rain was my sister, you son of a bitch,” Snow said. “She was a gentle spirit who never had a cross word to say about anyone. She didn’t deserve what you did to her.”

“No, she didn’t,” Wyatt said. “I had a choice to make that night, and if I had to make it again, I’d do the same thing.”

“Choose a human over a so-called Dreg?”

Wyatt bristled. “No, I’d choose a friend over a stranger.”

The answer did nothing to placate Snow. In fact, it seemed to do the opposite. He wasn’t a large man, but his lineage hinted at the ferocity lurking beneath his sandy hair and fair skin.

“So now that Tovin’s dead and the Tainted aren’t coming?” I asked. “What’s the grand plan? Challenge the Triads without backup and hope you win?”

“Hardly,” Cole said. “Snow is far more suspicious than I am, especially of humans. After your supposed murder at Phineas’s hands, Snow had the foresight to take a picture of you before he tossed you in that Dumpster.”

Damn. If Snow had been that close to me without realizing I wasn’t actually dead, I’d been injured far worse than I first thought.

“After Snow showed me the photo, I recognized you, and I realized Phineas couldn’t be trusted. He was too smart to be fooled by you, so you had to be working together. Although his murdering you was an unexpected twist at the time, and your appearance here even more so.”

“I hate being predictable.”

The bastard actually smiled. “I could no longer rely on Phineas’s intel and realized we had no hope of a successful surprise attack large or coordinated enough to fully destroy the strength of the Triads. You never congregate en masse in one place. I’ve had time to reassess my priorities in these matters.”

“And?”

Cole circled me widely, taking an odd point position halfway between me and Wyatt. The gun stayed on me—smart man—while he addressed Wyatt. “I’ve seen firsthand how far you’re willing to go for something in which you truly believe,” he said. “And for someone you love. I no longer wish to kill you.”

I wanted to celebrate those words; instinct kept me quiet. As did his tone, which clearly said someone else still wanted Wyatt dead. Someone else standing an arm’s reach away, with bloodlust in his eyes.

“Unfortunately for you,” Snow said, “I still do, so my friend has been kind enough to grant me the kill.”

“Over my dead body,” I snapped.

“I’m sure we can work your dead body into the arrangement as well.”

I spread my arms out at my sides, an open invitation. “Go for it, fox boy.”

Snow started for me but was stayed by Cole’s terse “Stop!” He glared at Snow. “Our bargain was for Wyatt. Besides, I think Evangeline will be more entertained by the goings-on at Parker’s Palace.”

Ding-ding! “Parker’s Palace”—the magic words. He had said the curtain would go up in twenty minutes, and the clock hadn’t stopped ticking. I was running out of time. “You’re going to attack the fund-raiser,” I said.

Cole nodded grimly. “It seems a fair trade in lives, don’t you think? Ours for theirs? We balance the scales tonight, and it keeps such a thing from happening again.”

“Or humans retaliate, and this time it’s a thousand lives lost.”

“That’s the risk we take, Evangeline, when it’s an eye for an eye.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes, it does.” And he believed it. He was convinced of this course of action, and no amount of arguing would change his mind. Still, the Triads knew what was happening and hopefully would act fast enough to prevent any significant loss of lives. Hopefully.

“Cole,” Snow said, “I want to enjoy this and then still be there to watch the performance. Can we get on with it?”

My stomach clenched. “No fucking way.”

Snow laughed—a genuinely scary sound. “He’ll get a sporting chance, sweetheart. Killing him is no fun if he doesn’t try to fight back.”

Wyatt was two days out of back surgery. In peak condition, I wouldn’t worry as much, but now? No way would he last more than a minute in a physical fight with Snow. “Killing him won’t be much fun, since he’s in no condition to fight back,” I said. “Fight me.”

“Evy!” Wyatt said.

“Fight me,” I said again, ignoring him. “You kill me, you still get to kill Wyatt.”

Snow looked ready to deny my request, then faltered. And seemed to consider it.

“Just think of the mental anguish,” I continued, “if he has to watch me die again.” He was still hesitating. “Don’t think you can take me? Or don’t you hit girls?”

“I have no quarrel with you,” Snow said.

It wasn’t working. I fisted my hands to stop them from trembling. I would not lose Wyatt this way, not when we’d worked so hard. We were trying our best to battle our past demons and create a future. It wasn’t all for nothing.

Just to Wyatt’s left, I caught Phin’s eye. Blood stained his upper lip and chin, and his nose was at an odd angle, but he was alert. Something sparked in his eyes, which kept flicking to his right. Toward Wyatt. I inclined my head slightly, hoping I had interpreted his signal correctly. And that he got mine.

Phin slid around so he was on Wyatt’s right side and then punched him in the side of the head. Wyatt’s eyes rolled up and he dropped like a stone, unconscious. He’d be pissed when he woke up. Snow, for his part, was pissed right now. He snarled at me, the sound an open challenge.

“Guess your quarrel is with me after all,” I said.

“Well played,” Cole said. “Eleri, let’s leave them to it. Bring Phineas along for this. We have front-row seats, and we shouldn’t be late.”

Phin met my eyes again as he passed. With the concern, I thought I spotted a little bit of admiration. Could have been wrong, though. I winked, giving him the appearance of more confidence than I felt. Cole deposited his orange crystal on a table close to the door, then the three of them left the greenhouse, and I was alone with Snow. At first, we just stared.

“I can’t decide,” Snow said after a protracted silence, “if you’re brave or just plain stupid.”

I snorted. “I can’t decide if you’ve never heard of a toothbrush or you just like yellow teeth. I mean, really?”

He snarled, flashing his nonpearly yellows. “Stupid, then. You know what that bastard has done, and yet you still protect him?”

“You betcha.”

“Why?”

“Because it amuses me.”

“Why?”

The little shit was persistent. I had a thousand reasons for protecting Wyatt. A thousand reasons why I’d volunteered to fight Snow in his place, and few of them had to do with my own scrapping skills. I couldn’t stand by while someone else hurt Wyatt—not when I could stop it. Maybe I was pissed for what he’d done to Cole and confused by my own tumultuous emotions surrounding Wyatt’s past and my own recent traumas, but I knew one thing for sure. One fact above all else.

“Because I love him,” I said. For better or worse—and with us, it always seemed for worse—I loved him.

Snow’s eyebrows arched. “Good. Then you should put up a worthy fight. I haven’t had a good one in quite a long while.” He cracked his knuckles.

“Are we setting any ground rules?”

“First one to die loses.”

“Works for me.”

Neither of us moved. “Ladies first?” he said.

“Be my guest.”

He cocked his head to the side, regarding me, then kicked Wyatt in the temple. I saw red and flew at him.