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“I want you gone.”

“And I want you to put on a shirt.”

Roman blinked.

“Everyone’s staring at you.” And byeveryoneshe meant the two young women—a wolf and a witch—exiting their car across the street.

Shay wanted to poke their eyeballs out. Pull their hair for staring at…what was he,herman? Nope, they were hardly even friends, and they certainly weren’t together—but that didn’t stop her from wanting to gouge straying eyeballs out for daring to look at the work of art that was Roman Devlin.

‘Truth or lie?’Roman had asked her at Motel 58 as he’d spun her around in the water.‘I think I’m falling for you.’

Truth or lie? She was afuckingidiot.

“How about I take that shirt back, then?” he threatened.

“Then I’d be naked,” she said without looking at him.

“Exactly.” What was he trying to be, funny? Cute? Flirty? She wasn’t in the mood. And besides, he’d already wrecked his chance by telling herWe need to talkandI want you gone.She’dtake Roman ‘Asshole’ Devlin any day, thanks. At least that one was easier to hate than Roman ‘Loveable’ Devlin.

Slightlyeasier.

When Roman shifted to the right, catching her attention, she realized she was still shooting daggers at the giggling women. They were disappearing into the restaurant, the witch throwing one last glance of appreciation over her shoulder.

Shay balled her hands into fists.

Roman was studying her with narrowed eyes. “Are you jealous?”

She huffed. “Of course not.” She inhaled, long and deep, and wiped every last trace of jealousy off her face. “After all, what we had was just a fling, right?” she crooned, batting her lashes. “We don’treallylike each other. Right, Shadows?” She turned on a heel and walked into the motel room.

Just before she shut the door behind her, she could have sworn she heard Roman mutter, “Fuck.”

60

South Coastal District

YVESWICH, STATE OF KER

Roark had been discharged.Pulled from Yveswich and replaced by another commanding officer.

The reality of this was still setting in as Max wove through the crowds of people protesting in the South Coastal District. He was having trouble catching up to Dallas, who’d turned and fled at a near run after receiving the news they’d waited over two hours for. Officers of lower rank had insisted on confirming her identity and speaking to their higher-ups before divulging any information, and so they’d stood there. Waiting. Pissing away time they didn’t have, only to receive the news they didn’t want.

They were on their own. Roark, for whatever reason, was gone, and they had no way of reaching him. Dallas had asked the authorities to pass along the message that his daughter was trapped here, but whether he really received it—andwhenhe received it—was out of their hands.

The coast was one of the only areas in the city that wasn’t smothered by night-like darkness. Instead, it was gray here, as if the sky were merely overcast with the threat of a bad storm. While other districts were slowly but steadily being buried under the blinding, monster-infested blackness of the Void, they could still see, breathe. Right now, this was the safest place in the city—until nightfall, anyway. There were no monsters here, and the military had set up camp several blocks from the Duchess.

Max hurried to catch up to Dallas. “What do you think that means?” Max called. It was still raining, the air cold enough to see his breath. “Dallas?” But Dallas didn’t turn. He elbowed his way through another group of warlocks and witches and pried apart two wolves, who cussed him out, to get to her. “Dallas, what do you think that means?”

They made it to a stretch of the road that was thinner with people before she stopped and faced him. “I don’t know,” she admitted, swiping at her face.

Max gaped. Was she crying?

“I don’t know,” she said again, sniffling. “And I’m torn.”

He took a step closer, but he didn’t touch her. He knew better than to crowd her when she was upset like this. Dallas was the type of girl who had trouble processing her emotions and liked her space because of it. “It’s okay, we’ll figure something out. We’ve still got time?—”

She shook her head. “I’m not talking about that. I mean, this whole situation sucks, yeah, but I meant my dad. I’m torn because of him. I’ve spent most of my life thinking he hated my guts, and then he sent a helicopter for me—” She roughly wiped at her eyes again, pulling the lids toward her temples. “I want to talk to him,” she confessed around a pained gasp, “and now I might never get the chance.”

It had always been hard for Max to watch Dallas fight for her parents’ approval. During the time they had dated, most of what she’d divulged to him about her shitty home life had come in the form of complaints and angry outbursts and a million different reasons why Roark and Taega deserved to be hated. She’d kept most everything else—everything but her anger—locked away. Bottled up.