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“His scent is on you, though.”

“We lived in this apartment together for a month. I’d think it’d be on me.”

She’d handed over a hideous number of silver marks to have his blood removed from the couch. Along with all traces of what they’d done there.

A small, strong hand slammed the fridge door shut. Fury glared up at her. “Don’t bullshit me, Quinlan.”

“I’m not.” Bryce let her friend see her true face. The one her father had talked about. The one that did not laugh and did not care for anybody or anything. “Hunt is a liar. He lied to me.”

“Danika did some fucked-up stuff, Bryce. You know that. You always knew it and laughed it off, looked the other way. I’m not so sure Hunt was lying about that.”

Bryce bared her teeth. “I’m over it.”

“Over what?”

“All of it.” She yanked open the fridge again, nudging Fury out of the way. To her surprise, Fury let her. “Why don’t you go back to Pangera and ignore me for another two years?”

“I didn’t ignore you.”

“You fucking did,” Bryce spat. “You talk to June all the time, and yet you dodge my calls and barely reply to my messages?”

“June is different.”

“Yeah, I know. The special one.”

Fury blinked at her. “You nearly died that night, Bryce. And Danika did die.” The assassin’s throat bobbed. “I gave you drugs—”

“I bought that mirthroot.”

“And I bought the lightseeker. I don’t fucking care, Bryce. I got too close to all of you, and bad things happen when I do that with people.”

“And yet you can still talk to Juniper?” Bryce’s throat closed up. “I wasn’t worth the risk to you?”

Fury hissed, “Juniper and I have something that is none of your fucking business.” Bryce refrained from gaping. Juniper had never hinted, never suggested—“I could no sooner stop talking to her than I could rip out my own fucking heart, okay?”

“I get it, I get it,” Bryce said. She blew out a long breath. “Love trumps all.”

Too fucking bad Hunt hadn’t realized that. Or he had, but he’d just chosen the Archangel who still held his heart and their cause. Too fucking bad Bryce had still been stupid enough to believe nonsense about love—and let it blind her.

Fury’s voice broke. “You and Danika were my friends. You were these two stupid fucking puppies that came bounding into my perfectly fine life, and then one of you was slaughtered.” Fury bared her teeth. “And. I. Couldn’t. Fucking. Deal.”

“I needed you. I needed you here. Danika died, but it was like I lost you, too.” Bryce didn’t fight the burning in her eyes. “You walked away like it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t.” Fury blew out a breath. “Fuck, did Juniper not tell you anything?” At Bryce’s silence, she swore again. “Look, she and I have been working through a lot of my shit, okay? I know it was fucked up that I bailed like that.” She dragged her fingers through her hair. “It’s all just … it’s more fucked than you know, Bryce.”

“Whatever.”

Fury angled her head. “Do I need to call Juniper?”

“No.”

“Is this a repeat of two winters ago?”

“No.” Juniper must have told her about that night on the roof. They told each other everything, apparently.

Bryce grabbed a jar of almond butter, screwed off the lid, and dug in with a spoon. “Well, have fun at the Summit. See you in another two years.”

Fury didn’t smile. “Don’t make me regret telling you all this.”