Page 37

Dahlia strolls in first, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, her curls wilder than usual. Behind her stands Detective Boy Scout, looking irritatingly smug.

"Well, well," I drawl, leaning against my desk. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence."

Oliver wisely slips out the door, closing it behind him.

Dahlia crosses her arms. "Don't start, Evan."

"Don't start?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You disappear for an entire day, and you think I shouldn't 'start'?"

"I needed space." She drops her bag onto one of my visitor chairs. "And I'm fine, as you can see."

I turn my attention to Byers. "You had one job. One fucking job."

"My job is to keep her safe," he responds coolly. "She's safe."

"Your job is to follow my instructions," I snarl, stepping toward him. "And I specifically told you to bring her back to the safe house after the concert."

Dahlia steps between us. "I asked him not to."

"Of course you did." I throw my hands up. "Because why follow basic safety protocols when you can just do whatever the hell you want?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child."

"Then stop acting like one." I'm practically vibrating with fury. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? What's still trying to happen to you?"

"Yes, I do." She jabs a finger at my chest. "I'm the one who was attacked. I'm the one whose lab was ransacked. I'm the one who's suddenly an Omega with every Alpha in a ten-mile radius trying to get in my pants."

Byers shifts uncomfortably behind her.

"And speaking of getting in your pants," I say, dropping my voice. "You reek of sex and cologne."

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn't back down. "My personal life is none of your business."

"It is when your 'personal life' interferes with your safety and your research." I step closer, towering over her. "Or did you forget that you're supposed to be finding a cure for the Crimson Plague?"

"I haven't forgotten anything." Her eyes flash dangerously. "But I'm still a person, Evan. I can't live locked in your cage, only allowed out to run tests in your fancy lab."

"It's not a cage; it's for your protection!"

"It's your way of control!" she shouts back. "You're obsessed with controlling everything and everyone around you!"

Byers places a hand on her shoulder. "Dahlia, maybe we should…"

"Get your hand off her," I growl.

His eyes narrow, but he drops his hand. "You don't give me orders, Blackthorn."

"Actually, I do. I'm paying your salary." I turn back to Dahlia. "And you…you need to understand what's at stake here. People are dying. The virus is spreading. And you're out there fucking everything you meet."

"How dare you." Her voice is quiet but razor-sharp. "I know exactly what's at stake. I've been working myself to exhaustion trying to understand this virus. I needed one night… one fucking night… to remember who I am outside of all this."

"And who is that?" I ask, my anger giving way to something more dangerous. "The woman who would fuck anyone with balls?"

The slap comes so fast I don't have time to dodge it. Her palm connects with my cheek, and the crack echoes in the office.

"Fuck you, Evan." She grabs her bag. "I'm done with this conversation."

She storms toward the door, and Byers moves to follow her.