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He stepped on the accelerator. “Bet I can cut that in half.” The needle on the speedometer flew to the right as they shot like a bullet down the interstate.

Motel 58 was Shay’s only hope of finding Anna. She had chased every lead in the weeks following Anna’s disappearance, and the only clue she’d managed to find involved Motel 58. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

She only hoped it wouldn’t lead to a dead end.

Roman turned up the music until the bass rattled the frame and pounded into her eardrums. As they raced away from Yveswich, Shay couldn’t help but steal another glance at the man the general public called Shadows. The man she’d somehow managed to manipulate—or so she thought.

This whole thing almost seemed too easy, especially for someone of his reputation. Was there more going on here? She had always prided herself on her guile and guts, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think that Roman wasn’t a threat. In nearly twenty years, no one had been able to keep up with her the way he had these last couple days—and now she was waltzing into the middle of the desert with him.

Uneasiness settled heavily in her stomach like a stone.

She studied Roman out of the corner of her vision. That look on his face—that dead cast to his eyes that no longer showed a hint of gold—told her she had made a terrible mistake.

Roman rarely left Yveswich, and if he did it was only for a day or two, tops. And his dad always, always knew about it.

So driving out of the city with a Selkie was a first. Not telling his dad was another first.

And allowing himself to be manipulated by anyone other than said dad was definitely a first. But the truth was, he needed a breather. Don and his men had been suffocating him since he was a kid, so it was high time he came up for some air. And although this Selkie had stolen something important from him, he had to admit he was looking forward to getting away for a few days until he managed to get it back.

As he sped down the interstate, he allowed himself to pretend, just for one second, that he was leaving Yveswich for good. Of course, if that were true, he’d have Pax in the passenger’s seat with him instead of Shay Cousens.

I hope you know what you’re doing, Sayagul said from where she was curled up in his shadow.

Paxton had school for the next few days. Roman would make sure Kylar kept an eye on him—and would contact him if Donovan tried anything vile. Kylar, Roman trusted, not just with his life but Paxton’s too. If Don tried anything, Roman knew Kylar would take the brunt of it and hide Paxton while it happened. Keeping their little brothers safe was the one thing they both excelled at—and the one thing they had both agreed to do for each other.

The thought didn’t sit well with Roman, though. He didn’t want Kylar getting hurt any more than he wanted Paxton to, but Roman had stepped in for all of them—Paxton, Kylar, Eugene, Willow—so many times that he hardly had any skin left to scar.

But Roman had a good feeling about this. Not about the Selkie, but about his choice to get away at this particular time. Last weekend was…rough. Terrible, actually. But he refused to think about the details. And when one rough weekend happened, his dad usually didn’t try anything again until a week or two had passed. He still made their lives a living hell in ways that didn’t involve fists and different methods of physical torture, but…this weekend, they should be safe.

Still…

As he drove, Roman thought about it. He could feel Shay Cousens watching him, but he paid her no attention. He stared at the road as he wove through traffic, idly dragging his tongue piercing across the roof of his mouth.

Five days—max. And he’d make sure his dad believed he was out on a job that would pay him very well.

If anything happened before then, Roman would race back to Yveswich, no questions asked. Even if this time, his dad finally broke him.

17

Yveswich City Limits

YVESWICH, STATE OF KER

Yveswich was the kind of city that used its age to its advantage, becoming more visually appealing as decades passed. The ancient houses, temples, and serpentine rows of businesses had never been updated, never been torn down if there was even the slightest chance of saving them. Instead, they were preserved with the utmost of care, so Yveswich throughout the centuries had remained mostly the same, aging like fine wine.

Every time Darien came here, it felt like stepping through a time portal. And today, as the truck began its descent into the sprawling maze of a city, felt no different. The only thing that seemed to change every few years was the level of traffic and the number of lanes—always more, never less.

The forcefield over Yveswich extended farther past the outskirts of the city than the one above Angelthene, so Darien felt the magic ripple over the truck several miles before they reached the sign proudly welcoming them to the state’s historic capital. A faint wash of acid-green passed over his vision, becoming more subtle the farther he drove.

“Where to first?” Tanner asked, clicking away on his laptop.

“We’ll go downtown. I’ll track Roman from there.” Downtown was neutral ground, which was the safer and less conspicuous choice for outsiders. Besides, they had nowhere to go, no accommodations yet, so pulling over at the side of the road in a Gray or Red Zone was a bad fucking idea. The last thing Darien wanted was to draw attention to themselves before Roman and the few people the Shadowmaster trusted knew they were here.

As Darien approached the exit that led downtown, the sun began to tuck itself behind a layer of clouds that promised rain. Unlike Angelthene’s dry heat, it was always uncomfortably muggy here, even during prolonged periods of sun.

A white sports car blew by on the interstate—heading out of town. The deep growl of the engine was orgasmic.

Darien’s eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror in time to see the car—candy-coated with white rims—zip around the bend. “Fuck, that’s a nice car.”