“I agree,” said Sam.

I heard a ‘But’, and I didn’t like it. “But…?”

She sighed. “But this has to be Imani’s decision.”

“No,” I bit out.

“Butch, think about it—”

“He’s bullshitting us, Coach. We can’t ask her to let him play a fucking game with her. He’s hurt her enough.”

“I know, but I will not make decisions for her. It would insult and disrespect her. You know that, which is why you’re not going to pressure her into making the decision you want her to make.”

Inwardly, I snorted. Sam didn’t know me well if she thought that. I was as overprotective of Imani as I’d warned her I’d be. During the transition, she’d been in so much pain, so crazed, and so close to death, that there had been several moments when I’d been sure I would lose her—and it had been fucking excruciating. Whenever I thought about it too much, anxiety chafed the edges of my consciousness until I wanted to punch something.

It had been so fucking hard to watch her in such gut-wrenching pain; to feel so helpless because there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to take it away. The only way I’d been able to help was to feed her. Sam, Jared, and Antonio—being the most powerful on the island—had also acted as regular donors. I’d be eternally grateful for that.

Although a whole lot of people had stopped by to see Imani during the transition, I hadn’t allowed any inside; aware that she wouldn’t have wanted everyone to see her that way. The only vampires I’d let inside that hadn’t been donors were Chico and Lena.

Of course, Fletcher being incredibly dramatic, had staged a protest outside her apartment; marching with huge ‘We want to see Imani’ boards. One deathly look from me had sent him scampering.

Taking a calming breath, I unclenched my fists. “You saw her, Coach. She’s not at full strength yet. And we have no fucking idea what ‘full strength’ will even be now for Imani.”

“I know, and I hate that as much as you do. But there are different kinds of strength. Imani will never be weak. She can do this. Marco can’t hurt her when there’s an impenetrable glass wall between them.”

“There are different kinds of hurt,” I said, paraphrasing her. “We could just torture the info out of him.” I was up for that.

She shook her head. “Imani told us that his gift is to shut off pain, remember?”

I cursed. “Coach, I can’t condone this. The sick fuck will sense that she’s vulnerable, and he’ll leap on it.”

“Probably,” said Sam, grim. “But it still has to be her decision.”

“And if she decides to do this and he fucks with her, we pull her out of there,” Jared vowed.

There was no ‘if’ about it. Imani would do this, Marco would mess with her, and she’d been through enough the past few nights. Still, I nodded, because I knew it was the best deal I’d get. I just hoped Imani declined.

(Imani)

I was just making my way back from the bathroom—and I was not about to admit to anyone that the simple act took a fair amount of energy out of me—when the front door opened. Seconds later, Butch strolled inside the bedroom with Sam and Jared close behind.

As Butch’s anger crashed into me, I tensed. “Did you find out which one of them did this to me?”

“They’re still maintaining their innocence,” said Butch before smacking a kiss on my mouth. “Tait says she’d happily see you dead but claims it wasn’t her. Juliet says she doesn’t care enough about your existence to bother trying to end it. And Marco swears you’ll always be safe with him.” Butch gave a snort of derision. “There’s something else that Juliet said. She claims Marco didn’t abandon you; that Lazarus sent him away from you to punish him. I don’t think she was lying, baby.”

I frowned. “But why would Lazarus lie to me about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s one other thing we need to discuss,” announced Sam.

Cursing, Butch cupped my neck. “You don’t have to do this.”

Sam spoke again. “We never mentioned this before because we didn’t think it was significant, but there is a small symbol on the blog that’s blabbing about our kind. Marco claims that it’s some kind of insignia and it means something. He offered us a deal. If we let him live, he’ll talk. But…he’ll only talk to you.”

“There’s a very high chance he’s just playing games,” Jared warned me.

As I took in Jared’s expression, I said, “But you don’t think he is.”

“He had every motivation to hurt you,” Jared conceded. “But from all accounts, Marco isn’t a messy killer. He covers his tracks. We can’t link a single kill to him. If he was going to hurt you, it doesn’t make sense that he’d do it in a way that put him under suspicion.”

Though I was loathed to admit it even to myself, Jared made some good points. “I’ll talk to Marco.” Because whether he tried to kill me or not wasn’t the issue here; it was whether or not the insignia truly meant anything.

Butch froze. “Imani.”

“You can be there,” I told him. “You’ll know I’m safe. He can’t reach me through the glass.”

“Which is why he’ll play with you,” said Butch. “Even if he’s telling the truth, he’ll still play with you.”

“I know. But what do we have to lose?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do.”

“You can take Fletcher along as well,” said Sam. “He’ll give us an idea of Marco’s emotional state. I want to know whether he’s pissed with you or as obsessed as he seems.”

“It’s probably a little bit of both,” grumbled Butch.

Seeming in agreement with that, Sam and Jared headed for the door. Just as they were about to leave, she turned and said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Lazarus and Annalise have been asking to speak with you. Obviously, it would be via teleconference since Lazarus doesn’t leave his castle and none of us are comfortable with you going there. Will you be up to speaking with them tomorrow after meeting with Marco?”