Page 19

When Max spoke, he was careful to keep his tone soft. “I know—”

“You don’t know anything!” she shrieked, the words slapping against the alley walls. She kept pacing in deep puddles, her fingers in tight fists. “No one knows what it’s like to live under his roof. To be in his care.” With a shake of her head, she repeated, “In his care.”

Lionel was Lace’s uncle, and one of her only living family members. After her parents died when she was a teenager, the social workers had carelessly dumped her on his doorstep like a sack of trash. From there, he’d put her to work in ways that had done a thorough job of scarring her soul as much as they had her body, forcing her to collect under the Darkslaying table before she even reached legal drinking age.

Killing targets for him had wrecked her so thoroughly that she’d briefly turned to another form of income, one she’d given up pursuing after her first week, realizing that it, too, wasn’t the right path for her. Lionel had denied her a way out of Darkslaying until she’d turned eighteen, and even then, she’d found it difficult to fully escape him and rinse her mind clean of the poisonous thoughts he’d forced her to believe, how worthless he’d made her feel. Always criticizing her, always taking every last copper she made, and barely giving her food on her plate in return for the endless emotional scars.

When she’d turned eighteen, she’d left, and along the way she’d met Darien, who was forming the Devils at the time. Not knowing where she belonged in life, she’d accepted a position in his house, clinging to the exceptional patience he’d had for her, such a change from what she was used to. Darien understood what she’d gone through, and because of this, he’d never pushed her to collect more than she was comfortable with. Like so many others, she’d felt trapped in the Darkslayer life, unable to walk away from it. And even now, even years later, it was the only job she knew how to do, the only path she knew how to walk, no matter how much it tore her apart.

Max waited in silence. He simply watched her, trusting that her blind rage would soon set her free from its chokehold. That was what she needed whenever something like this happened. Patience. Silence. The space to let her emotions loose after repressing them for so long while growing up. Eventually, her breathing slowed, and so did her pacing.

She froze in the middle of the alley. “I want to cut his heart out, Max.” Although the words were quiet, they weren’t weak. “I want to cut it out and shove it down his throat. I’ll never forgive him for everything he did to me.” A tear slipped down her cheek, clearing a track in her makeup. She scrubbed it away with black-gloved fingers. “Every time I see him, it throws me back to when I was sixteen, and I feel helpless all over again, like I haven’t just spent the past five years running with Devils.” With every word spoken, her voice grew thicker with emotion, and although her breathing had slowed, it was still ragged. “And I feel…alone. I think that’s the worst part: feeling alone. Nothing in the world is worse than that.”

Max took a step toward her, but forced himself to stop, giving her space. “You’re not alone, Lacey. Not anymore.”

A gust of wind swept down the alley, garbage scraping across uneven pavement. “He shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe.”

“One day, he’ll be rotting in the ground like the piece of shit he is. I promise you that.” Even if he had to be the one to cut out Lionel’s heart and feed it to him, he would do it, if only so she could finally have peace.

When she spoke again, Lace still wouldn’t look at him. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Maximus.”

She walked out of the alley, her vacant eyes on her boots. Max followed to where his SUV was parked in a dirt lot across the street from the club. Tanner Atlas was leaning back against the hood, legs crossed at the ankles, glasses sliding down his nose. The tinny music drifting through the speakers on his phone told Max he was playing one of those old videogames that used to only be available in arcades.

“Playing that frog game again?” Max asked.

The hacker glanced up. “I might be a touch addicted.” Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he closed the game and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “Took you guys long enough.”

Shouldering the duffel bag, Max shoved his hair back—the hair he now wore longer on the top and shorter on the sides, after Dallas had told him how much she liked not only the length, but the lightened pieces from the sun. “If you want to switch jobs next time,” he said, “I’d be happy to let you get your hands bloody for a change.”

“Pfft.” Tanner pushed off the hood and made for the back door as Lace headed for the passenger’s side. “You couldn’t hack a spell system to save your life.”

“Would you open the bloody door already, Atlas?” Lace’s words were scathing.

Tanner unlocked the doors with the remote, and then tossed the keys to Max. “Something happen in there?”

“Lionel happened,” Lace mumbled. She swung open the door and got in. “Lionel always happens.”

Max forced his jumbled thoughts into order as he got in the driver’s side and started the engine.

They drove in silence for several minutes along the dark curve of the Angelthene River. For once in his life, Max didn’t mind the fishy scent permeating this district. He gulped it down, hoping it might disguise the kerosene and smoke lingering in his airways.

Speaking of smoke… Max grabbed the cigar from the cupholder, placed the end between his lips, and lit it, hurrying to snap the lighter shut. Even a small flame like that could sometimes unsettle him.

That first lungful was exactly what he needed to relax his muscles and his mind, to stop hearing those horrible screams echoing in his memories. He nearly groaned with pleasure, eyelids sliding shut.

“Please,” Lace muttered. “I hear enough moaning from you every time Dallas sleeps over.” Whoops—guess he had groaned out loud. Where was his mind at?

Tanner, who was slumped against his door, head resting against the glass, warned in a tired voice, “Pothole.”

Too late. One of the front tires dipped into it, causing the vehicle to bounce. Tanner cursed as his temple thwacked against the window, jarring his glasses.

“Everyone awake now?” Max joked. His cigar slipped out of his mouth and onto his lap. He fumbled for it while trying to keep the SUV on the road, and he cursed as the stupid thing began burning a hole in his pants. “Oh, for shit’s sake—”

“Can you keep your eyes on the road, please?” Lace drawled around a stifled yawn.

Max fumbled for the cigar that kept slipping out of his grasp. The inside of his thigh turned hot, and he hissed in pain. “Can you let me get this damn thing before it burns a hole in my precious dick?”

Lace bolted upright in her seat. “Max, look out!”