Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“Jesus Christ,” she finally says, pushing her hair out of her face.
She looks around the room, taking in the tables with their grisly displays, then back at me with something between amazement and horror. “This is officially the most unhinged thing I’ve ever done. And I poisoned a man, so that’s really saying something.”
“The poison thing was fairly tame compared to this.”
“Right?” She laughs, but it’s slightly hysterical. “Most people have sex in beds. Normal people. But no, I decide to jump you in your creepy death museum because apparently that’s who I am now.”
I start buttoning what’s left of my shirt while she smooths down her dress.
“But I’m still fucking pissed at you.”
“About?”
“The move, Blue. Trying to get me to leave without asking me.” Her anger is returning, sharpening. “How the hell do we let all of Grimlock know this is false info? Everyone is just getting to know me, and now I’m going to look like a flake, or there’s going to be rumors of trouble in paradise or . . .” she pauses. “I know you don’t care about reputation . . . clearly. But—”
“You’re still leaving.”
She stares at me. “What?”
“You heard me. You still aren’t safe here. You’re moving as planned. Just like these women before. You’ll be safe far from here so I can go after Brutus.”
“The fuck I am. We are going to come up with a plan on how to handle Brutus Crow together. You and me. I’m not one of those girls on the wall. I don’t need to be protected. I’m staying by your side to take the man down.”
“No,” I say quietly. “You’re not.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hans is dead.” The words come out flat, final. “I no longer have him by my side to help. I can’t protect you from the Crow. Nothing has changed in my plan. The move is happening whether you like it or not.”
Chapter Forty
Saylor
Has Blue lost his mind?
I stand in the forbidden room surrounded by killer skulls, and Blue is giving me that stubborn look I’m starting to recognize.
“What part of ‘I’m ready to fight’ don’t you understand?” I cross my arms, staring at him. “Your attempt at forcing me out is taking away my power. I’m not disappearing. I’m not hiding.”
Blue’s jaw tightens. “It’s not that simple.”
“It’s exactly that simple.” I gesture around the room at his macabre museum. “These women needed new identities because it was the only way they could save themselves. I can save myself another way. Problem solved.”
“The Crow—”
“Will get exactly what they deserve,” I interrupt. “And I’ll be there to help give it to them.”
Blue runs his hands through his hair, which I now realize he does often, making it stick up at odd angles. “Saylor, you don’t understand—”
“I’m getting sick of standing here,” I snap, “and it’s not because of the bones.”
Blue blinks at me like I’ve started speaking old world Greek.
I turn on my heel and storm toward the door. Behind me, Blue calls my name, but I’m done with this conversation. He can stand up there arguing with his bone collection for all I care.
I stomp down the stairs. The main hall stretches before me with gothic arches and expensive art.
Wren appears from the direction of the kitchen, looking harried in a way I’ve never seen before. Her usual unflappable composure has cracks around the edges, grief written in the lines around her eyes.
“Saylor, dear.” She attempts a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I had luggage and boxes sent to your room. I’ll come up and help—”
I stop dead in the middle of the hall. “No.” The word comes out flat and final. “I’m not leaving.”
Wren blinks rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m staying here.” I gesture vaguely around the mansion.
Wren’s confusion deepens, but before she can respond, Blue appears behind me. I can feel his presence without turning around, that familiar electricity he brings to any room.
Wren’s eyes dart between me and Blue, clearly looking for guidance on how to handle this situation. Blue gives her a look—one of those silent communications that speaks volumes.
“Stop talking with your eyes,” I snap, spinning around to face him. “Both of you. If you have something to say, say it out loud.”
Before Blue can respond, the doorbell echoes through the house. Wren bustles toward the front door, muttering about unexpected visitors and proper calling hours.
When she opens it, Ash steps inside, and for the first time in two days, something shifts in the oppressive atmosphere of Maison Rouge. He looks like he’s been running, his casual clothes slightly disheveled, but his eyes are bright with purpose.
“Blue,” he says immediately, spotting him behind me. “Got it done.”
“What did you get done?” I interrupt before Blue can respond. That familiar prickle of being excluded from important conversations starts up my spine.
Ash glances between Blue and me, clearly sensing the tension. Blue opens his mouth, probably to suggest they adjourn to his study for a private conversation.