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I wasn’t sure whether I wanted Gentry to live or die just then, but I knew my Nightwarden wouldn’t be able to get away with anything he did.

Holden snapped at Gentry’s throat, snarling once more. “You’re not even worth the effort,” he decided.

“Look who’s talking,” Dominic sneered.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but I can if you’d like.” He took a step toward the sorcerer, who cringed. “That’s what I thought. Just try to throw a spell at me right now, out in the open. I could gut you quicker than you can blink and be out of here before anybody knew what happened. You’re just as pathetic as your miserable excuse for a brother.”

“Holden, stop,” I warned.

Dominic’s aura went deeper red than ever. Blood red. That couldn’t be a good thing.

I tried again. “You can’t do this, especially not in public.”

“You’re right,” he decided, stepping back but still shielding me. “Come on. We have to get out of here, now.”

I looked at Gentry—how could it be true? But it had to be. He hadn’t denied it.

Holden slid his steel band of an arm around my waist and pulled me to the street, where he hailed a cab and bundled me into it before I had time to think.

There was no thinking when my thoughts swirled around as they did. How could I have been so wrong? It wasn’t like me to take chances like that. I was always smarter. Wasn’t I?

“Do you see now why you should’ve listened to me all along?” Holden asked when we were more than a block away. His voice was tight with fury. His hands shook from the effort it took to keep his claws retracted.

“Please. I can’t do this right now.” My voice was a weak whisper. Almost a whimper.

I had just been through the biggest shock since the Kristoff situation. In many ways, it was like reliving the whole nightmare again.

The feeling that I couldn’t trust anything, that nothing good would ever happen again.

The pain. The deep, ardent wish that if I was about to die, I would just die and get it over with.

Because I didn’t know how long I could survive pain like that.