Sabine spat. “Don’t fucking think about it, Athalar.”

He stopped his arm before it could cover Bryce’s breasts—the heart beating beneath them. His battle-suit had enough armor to deflect a bullet. To let him absorb the impact. Better for him to lose an arm that he could regrow than for her to—

He couldn’t think the last word.

Sabine hissed, “I told you to stay away from this. And yet you just couldn’t listen—you had to show up at the Den, asking questions you have no right to ask.”

Bryce snarled, “We were asking those questions because you killed Danika, you fucking psycho.”

Sabine went wholly still. Nearly as still as the Fae could go. “You think I did what?”

Hunt knew Sabine wore every emotion on her face and had never once bothered to hide it. Her shock was genuine. Rain dripped off the narrow angles of her face as she seethed, “You think I killed my own daughter?”

Bryce was shaking so hard that Hunt had to tighten his grip, and she snapped, “You killed her because she was going to take your place as future Prime, you stole the Horn to undermine her, and you’ve been using that demon to kill anyone who might have seen you and to humiliate Micah before the Summit—”

Sabine laughed, low and hollow. “What utter bullshit.”

Hunt growled, “You wiped the footage of the Horn’s theft from the temple. We have it confirmed. You lied to us about Danika being there that night. And ranted about your daughter not keeping her mouth shut the night she died. All we need to prove you killed Danika is to tie you to the kristallos demon.”

Sabine lowered her gun, putting the safety back on. She trembled with barely restrained rage. “I didn’t steal anything, you stupid fucks. And I didn’t kill my daughter.”

Hunt didn’t dare lower his gun. Didn’t dare let go of Bryce.

Not as Sabine said, cold and joyless, “I was protecting her. Danika stole the Horn.”

49

“Danika didn’t steal anything,” Bryce whispered, cold lurching through her. Only Hunt’s arm around her middle kept her upright, his body a warm wall at her back.

Sabine’s light brown eyes—the same shade Danika’s had been but void of their warmth—were merciless. “Why do you think I swapped the footage? She thought the blackout would hide her, but was too dumb to consider that there might be audio still rolling that picked up each one of her disappearing footsteps as she left her post to steal the Horn, then reappeared a minute later, going back on patrol, as if she hadn’t spat in our goddess’s face. Whether she caused the blackout to steal it or if she took advantage of an opportunity, I don’t know.”

“Why would she take it?” Bryce could barely get the words out.

“Because Danika was a brat who wanted to see what she could get away with. As soon as I got the alert that the Horn had been stolen, I looked into the videos and swapped the footage on every database.” Sabine’s smile was a cruel slash. “I cleaned up her mess—just like I did for her entire life. And you two, in asking your questions, have threatened the shred of a legacy that she stands to leave.”

Hunt’s wings flared slightly. “You sent that demon after us tonight—”

Sabine’s pale brows snapped together. “What demon? I’ve been waiting for you here all night. I thought about your stupid fucking visit to my Den, and decided you needed a real reminder to stay the Hel out of this case.” She bared her teeth. “Amelie Ravenscroft is standing across the street, waiting to make the call if you step out of line, Athalar. She says you two were putting on quite the show a moment ago.” A vicious, knowing smile.

Bryce flushed, and let Hunt look to confirm. From the way he tensed, she knew it was true.

Sabine said, “And as for what I said the night she died: Danika couldn’t keep her mouth shut—about anything. I knew she’d stolen the Horn, and knew someone probably killed her for it because she couldn’t keep it quiet.” Another cold laugh. “Everything I did was to protect my daughter. My reckless, arrogant daughter. Everything you did encouraged the worst in her.”

Hunt’s growl rent the night. “Careful, Sabine.”

But the Alpha just snorted. “You’ll regret crossing me.” She strolled for the edge of the roof, her power thrumming in a faint glow around her as she assessed the same leap that Bryce had so stupidly considered a year and a half ago. Only, Sabine would be able to gracefully land on the pavement. Sabine looked back over a thin shoulder, her lengthening teeth gleaming as she said, “I didn’t kill my daughter. But if you jeopardize her legacy, I will kill you.”

And then she jumped, shifting with a soft flash of light as she went. Hunt sprinted for the edge, but Bryce knew what he’d see: a wolf landing lightly on the pavement and streaking away into the darkness.

50

Hunt didn’t realize just how badly Sabine’s bombshell had hit Bryce until the next morning. She didn’t run. Nearly didn’t get up in time for work.

She drank a cup of coffee but refused the eggs he made. Barely said three words to him.

He knew she wasn’t mad at him. Knew that she was just … processing.

Whether that processing also had to do with what they’d done on the roof, he didn’t dare ask. It wasn’t the time. Even though he’d had to take a cold, cold shower afterward. And take matters into his own hands. It was to Bryce’s face, the memory of her scent and that breathy moan she’d made as she arched against him, that he’d come, hard enough he’d seen stars.

But it was the least of his concerns, this thing between them. Whatever it was.

Mercifully, nothing had leaked to the press about the attack in the park.

Bryce barely spoke after work. He’d made her dinner and she’d poked at it, then gone to sleep before nine. There sure as fuck were no more hugs that led to nuzzling.

The next day was the same. And the next.

He was willing to give her space. The gods knew he’d sometimes needed it. Every time he killed for Micah he needed it.

He knew better than to suggest Sabine could be lying, since there was no easier person to accuse than a dead one. Sabine was a monster, but Hunt had never known her to be a liar.

The investigation was full of dead ends, and Danika had died—for what? For an ancient artifact that didn’t work. That hadn’t worked in fifteen thousand years and never would again.

Had Danika herself wanted to repair and use the Horn? Though why, he had no idea.

He knew those thoughts weighed on Bryce. For five fucking days, she barely ate. Just went to work, slept, and went to work again.

Every morning he made her breakfast. Every morning she ignored the plate he laid out.

Micah called only once, to ask if they’d gotten proof on Sabine. Hunt had merely said, “It was a dead end,” and the Governor had hung up, his rage at the unsolved case palpable.

That had been two days ago. Hunt was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I thought hunting for ancient, deadly weapons would be exciting,” Lehabah groused from where she sat on her little divan, half watching truly inane daytime television.

“Me too,” Bryce muttered.