Page 57

Relief floods me, quickly replaced by anger. “What am I doing? What areyoudoing, skulking around in the dark, scaring me half to death? Were you following me?”

“Yes.”

No excuses, no explanations. Just that one word, delivered in the same tone he might use to comment on the weather.

“What the fuck, Damiano? You can’t just follow people!”

“I followed you from the estate. You shouldn’t be out here at all, especially not alone.” His words are tense, controlled. “Viktor has men watching the grounds, the house. They would’ve reported that you left. Now he knows you’re in town.”

“So you decided to stalk me? That’s your solution?”

“I decided to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed.” He moves closer, and I can finally see his face clearly. He’s furious. “What were you thinking, going to The Vault while Viktor’s looking for his brother? While your face is fresh in everyone’s minds from your party?”

“I needed information about The Hunt.” Even to my own ears, the excuse sounds weak.

“From Flint.” It’s not a question.

Heat crawls up my neck. Does he know? Did he see us? No, he couldn’t have. He was outside, but something in his tone makes me think he suspects.

“Yes, from Flint. He works at The Vault.” I try toremain steady. “Who better to ask about it and if there is a way to keep the hunters off my land?”

“Be careful with him.” He softens slightly, and I catch something in his expression. Not jealousy exactly, but concern mixed with experience.

But why isn’t there jealousy? We haven’t even spoken about last night once? It’s almost as if I dreamed it. We fucked multiple times, we got interrupted and then… nothing. Nothing at all. Did we even have sex, or have I finally lost my mind and am having fevered dreams?

“Flint isn’t... he consumes people. Pulls them into his gravity until there’s nothing left,” he adds.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

He glances at me, then back at the road. “I am. He’s not a bad person, but there’s something dark in him. Something that needs and takes and doesn’t know how to stop.”

“You make him sound dangerous.”

“Not dangerous. Just...” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Intense. Like a riptide. He doesn’t mean to pull you under, but that’s just how he’s built.”

“So your warning is what—stay away from Flint?”

“My warning is that you risked being seen by twenty different people who could connect you to Liam. For what? A conversation that could’ve happened somewhere safe.” He clenches his hands athis sides. “The Vault is the last place you should be right now.”

When he puts it that way, it does sound idiotic, but I’m not about to admit that.

“I was careful,” I insist.

“Careful.” His laugh is a short, hard sound. “Is that what you call parking in the darkest alley on the island and walking around alone at night?”

He’s right, but his condescending tone pisses me off. “I don’t need a babysitter, Damiano. Or a bodyguard. Or whatever it is you think you’re doing right now.”

“Apparently, you do.”

I turn away from him, jamming my key into the car door with more force than necessary. My hands are still shaking, partly from the fading adrenaline, partly from anger. Mostly from knowing he’s right.

The lock clicks, but before I can open the door, Damiano’s hand covers mine.

“Don’t,” he says, softer now. “You’re in no state to drive. You can barely breathe.”

He’s right about that, too. My chest is tight, each breath a conscious effort. The combination of fear, exertion, and damp night air has triggered my symptoms.

“I’m fine,” I lie, even as a wave of dizziness hits me.