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I knew for a fact that Brooke preferred the company of men. She was single. She had already proposed marriage to Devlin, for crying out loud.

And yet, his touch hadn’t affected her at all.

I flicked my gaze to Devlin, watching him carefully. The relief in his expression was obvious.

“I was so glad you called,” Brooke said, grasping my hands, her fingers cool against my skin. “I had to come over a little earlier than expected—my dad is making me go to some stupid dinner party tonight,” she added, wrinkling her nose, “so I can’t stay for long.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I said. “Devlin and I were at the Cadmuses’ house.”

“That’s okay! BooDini was keeping me company while I waited.” I cast a glance at BooDini, who was still clinging tothe swing chain, its entire form tense, as if waiting for the momentum to finally die down. “And I was filling it in on my latest woes,” Brooke finished, grinning.

“Do you want to come back to the cabin and fill me in?” I asked.

Brooke shook her head, her cascading waves of hair billowing around her. “Perhaps some other time.” Then, just as casually, she added, “What I really wanted to ask was if you’d had a chance to look over the police file Rowan dropped off the other night?”

My mouth opened, but no words came out. Rowan was the one taunting me with the police files?

“I’ll kill that orc.” Devlin’s voice was a low, lethal growl as his shadows writhed violently around him.

“Why would you do that, Devie?” she asked, her brows lifting in genuine confusion, as if there wasn’t a demon seething beside her, seconds away from raining down Hell’s wrath. Her gaze drifted back to me. “Listen, Jen, I know Rowan was acting a bit, um... stalkerish that last summer.”

A bit?

“But he was really, really sorry about it. And he’s worked so hard trying to prove that you had nothing to do with your parents’ deaths all those years ago.”

“So, his way of apologizing for stalking me,” I said, my voice flat, “was to spend the next nine years obsessing over me, researching the worst night of my life, then sneaking up to my house in the dead of night to post police files through my door?”

Brooke let out a nervous giggle. “Well, when you put it like that, it does seem a little strange.”

A little strange?

Rowan was supposed to be my friend. The stalking, I could forgive—he had been under the prolonged influence of my succubus touch, after all.

But this?

Spending years obsessing over me? Digging up my parents’ police reports? Sneaking onto my property, leaving reminders of that night like a twisted offering?

Yeah. That was super fucking strange.

Brooke’s phone buzzed, breaking the tension. She rolled her eyes, huffing in frustration. “My dad is literally going to kill me if I don’t go back now.” She looked back at me, expression softening. “Look, Jenny, I don’t want to push you into doing something you’re uncomfortable with. And if you really don’t want to look at the files and just move on with your life, I totally get it. I’ll talk to Rowan and tell him to stop.”

My jaw tensed.

“But I’ve seen the files. And things just don’t add up.” Another buzz. Another eye roll. She reached out, squeezing my arm, her grip a warm reminder of the friendship we once had. “Just know you’ll always be my friend, Jenny.”

Chapter 21. Jen

Devlin left a trail of shadows in his wake as we stepped into the cabin, wisps of darkness bleeding from his every footstep before slinking back into the underbrush and curling into the corners of the porch.

I chewed the inside of my lip, watching as he half threw himself onto the couch, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. He slouched forward, jaw tight, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he stared into space.

“Devlin?” I asked softly.

His only response was a distractedhmm.

“Are you okay?”

There was a long pause. His shadows stirred around him again before finally dissipating into the dim corners of the room. But the crease between his brows remained, deep and unmoving.