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Marisol started setting the table after picking up the pepper. It was strange how quickly they’d established a routine. How comfortable it was to share meals and responsibilities. “Why?”

“I won’t bore you with coven politics.” She served Marisol a helping of steaming white rice before spooning the vegetables on top. In her life, she’d never eaten so many meals with someone without having to remind them she didn’t eat meat.

“And trust me, she’s not exaggerating the bore.” Elena jumped up to sit on the counter, but she couldn’t hide that thinking about their break up had bothered her.

Marisol was still thinking about it, too. What had she meant about Elena losing loves? How many could there be? Why wouldn’t they want to turn to be with her? If they were really in love, wouldn’t they want to stay together? Marisol would have done anything to keep her grandmother in her life forever. She couldn’t imagine letting someone die if they didn’t have to… It didn’t make sense.

“Yeah, well. Thanks to your abject failure, I probably don’t have a coven to go back to, so there’s that?—”

“Oh, yes. It’s my fault that I almost got killed and then ended up trapped in a human cesspool. That’s absolutely on me. You’re so right.” Elena leaned forward on the hands gripping the counter’s ledge.

“I’m glad we agree,” Zuri said with the resolute finality of someone who’d gotten the last word.

Not knowing what they were talking about, Marisol decided she might as well ask. There may not be another chance to understand. “What’s wrong with your coven?”

Sitting across from Marisol with a fork in hand while Elena kicked her heels against the cabinet like a bored kid, Zuri waved away the question like it was buzzing around her plate. “I don’t even know,” she said, sounding unexpectedly defeated. “Maybe all things end and I’m fighting the damn tide.”

“I don’t know when you’re going to see that you don’t need anyone else’s?—”

“I need my coven the way you need your cartel,” she snapped like they’d had this conversation a hundred times.

“What do you think a group of Aglion would be called?” Marisol mused, eager to break the tension. She didn’t want to spend their last hours together bickering.

“If those pretty wings actually work for flying”—Elena’s energy shifted back into bright amusement—“a float.”

“That’s awful,” Zuri replied after swallowing her bite. “How about a radiance? That’s got some flair.”

“A chorus,” Elena tried.

“Too obvious,” Zuri said with an eye roll.

“A hope,” Marisol decided.

Zuri’s lip twitched into a smile, eyes soft when they met Marisol’s. “Not bad.”

“I’m going to need a lot of hope while I look for a new job,” she half joked, anxiety curling around her lungs again.

“I don’t think so,” Elena said like she’d been practicing some kind of dad voice. “It’s not safe for you.”

Marisol furrowed her brow. “I can’t not?—”

“We don’t know what that fucking vamp has already spread about what he saw,” Zuri said, jaw tight.

Had they already talked about this? Without her? When?

“You’re not going back to the hospital. You shouldn’t stay on your own,” Zuri added, as if Marisol’s life choices weren’t up for discussion. Like she wasn’t going to get a say.

“That goes for both of you.” Elena stopped swinging her feet, arms crossed over her chest and energy shifting into something dangerous. “There’s absolutely no way either of you are leaving my sight until I figure this out and every single person who would raise a hand to you is ash beneath my feet.”

“She’s so romantic, isn’t she?” Zuri looked at Marisol and laughed like she was used to threats of mass annihilation. “Where do you plan to keep us, big bad vampire boss?” Her grin lingered. “The place where you were attacked and nearly killed? Yeah, agreed. That’s much better than my apartment. I don’t even have a doorman who can fail at his duties to keep?—”

“It happened outside,” Elena roared, revealing a sore spot. She continued through gritted teeth, eyes black and revealing that her fangs were out even if Marisol couldn’t see them. “Absolutely no one will touch you in my?—”

“Aw, then what’s the fun in that,” Zuri interrupted, antagonizing Elena on purpose.

Jaw flexing, Elena’s entire being was alive with barely contained anger. “They got a single cheap shot in and there will not be another. If you get so much as a fucking paper cut, I will rip out every single throat in a hundred-mile radius. No one is going to touch you. No one is going to breathe near you. No one is going to even think about you. Or they’re going to meet such a slow and agonizing death that they beg for the sweet relief of darkness. Relief that I will not grant.”

Marisol blinked, unsure why her skin was hot and desire was thrumming to life in her belly. She shouldn’t want to see Elena’s vengeance, but her heart raced at the image of her ripping out the man’s throat who’d hurt Zuri. Who would have killed them all if he could. What the heck was happening to her?