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Sari

Ollie and Rague will be busy with three donors. I’ll keep Sully company tonight.

Me

Let me know when Rague and Ollie are back. I’ll come pick you up

Sari

No need. I’ll sleep here

A furious roar leaves my lips. The one emotion I understand above all is anger. Why is he being so fucking unreasonable? He’s putting distance between us again. I made him fucking come last night; he screamed like a whore begging for more. What else does he want?

My impulsiveness is screaming at me to go get him and lock him up.

There’ll always be an us, even if I have to pave the way with blood and screams to make him realize it.

As I look ahead, my eyes catch a figure a few feet away leaning against the café in the back alley. He’s wearing a gray hoodie, horrible cargo pants, and a white mask. What the fuck is Ezra doing here?

I get out of my car and head toward him, gun still tucked in my pants. The ice cream truck is still there. There’s a closed sign on the window, but that stupid melody is on.

“Take off that ridiculous thing,” I order Ezra, stopping a few feet away.

“Like you don’t wear a mask every day.”

I know he doesn’t mean literally.

He grabs it and lowers it. “Everybody wears a mask; the only difference is that you can see mine easily.”

I fucking hate that I agree with him.

“Why are you following me?”

He studies me before saying, “Boredom can kill.”

His vague answers are getting on my nerves more than the short, repetitive fucking melody coming from the truck. Ezra suddenly turns halfway, his hand slides on the side of his cargo pants and then his arm swings outward, swiftly tossing a knife in the air. The blade hits the clown face on top of the ice cream truck where the speaker is. He gets it right in the mouth and the jingle finally ends.

He faces me again. “You’re welcome.”

He’s more unhinged than I thought. And sort of fun. Should I ask Rami to erase any street CCTV that caught Ezra tossing the knife? Nah, that’s his fucking problem.

“I’ll ask you again, why are you in Chicago, Ezra?”

He smirks. “I faked my death. Phoenix forced my hand, screwed with my life. So I killed…myself. I can’t get back to my job until I get rid of Phoenix.”

“So how are you working then?”

“Under assumed identities. But that’s not why I am here.” His voice deepens.

“No?”

“The guy you live with, Sariel…”

I hear the menacing growl leaving my lips.

Ezra’s smile widens. “I have no ill intentions toward him. I know he’s one of your foster brothers. But who is he to you?”

“Mine,” I pronounce slowly.