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“Slaughtering souls to feed Cassian’s hunger, at the expense of your curse to keep you chained to her like a dog?—”

“I said stop!” Naia screamed, her eyes tightly closed, and her knuckles trembling against her cheeks.

“Just like Father?—”

“Finnian.” This time, it was Ronin who spoke. “Enough.”

Naia’s emotions were in her throat, like she’d swallowed a bomb and it had detonated in her chest, exposing far too much of what was inside of her.

The horrendous memories she fought hard to keep contained, buried away, resurfaced. Behind her closed eyes, Kaleo’s face appeared, vivid and fleeting, evoking a profound ache to twist in her heart.

No.

She lowered her arms with a shaky breath and straightened to lock eyes with her brother. Every twinkling, boyish look he’d ever given her, every growth spurt, every lecture, every delicate, affectionate moment they had shared—what was the purpose of them, of her love, when this was what they had become?

She tossed the hearing aid back to Finnian and turned away from him. “I never wish to see you again.”

This, she understood, was the most heartbreaking place to wander to in life. In front of another who she loved more than herself, but that did not love her the same.

22

UNDOING

Finnian let them go.

Theon transported them back into the brewery.

Naia followed along on autopilot as they guided her back into Ronin’s office and took a seat on the sofa again.

Her mind was numb and unable to process anything more from the day.

The chilled leather felt good on the backs of her legs, where her dress had torn.

Avi, Theon, and others whose faces were unfamiliar came and went. She remained silent, fixated on a speck of dirt on the window, which overlooked the empty street in the late hours of the night.

When someone offered her water, she shook her head. Another held out a plush blanket, probably assuming her blank stare and lack of life had something to do with shock. She knew little about the symptoms, but perhaps one was to feel cold? Either way, she rejected the blanket.

Eventually, the office cleared out, and Ronin stayed on the couch across from her.

She brought her gaze up to him. He was pale. Sickly pale. Hollow circles bruised beneath his eyes, and his lips held a pasty tint of blue she didn’t think was a good sign of health. Her pulse jumped as all sorts of frightening diseases she’d read about filled her mind—she couldn’t recall the proper name of any to save her life.

He placed a half-eaten rice ball, an unopened can of a nitro cold brew, and an unmarked glass vial, filled with green concoction, on the table between them. Shifting around on the cushion to get comfortable, he downed the bottle of water meant for her in one giant gulp.

Her eyes fell onto the rice ball, reminiscing the first time she’d tried one and the bright smile on Akane’s face.

“Naia,” Ronin said gingerly. “Talk to me.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant. Tell me what’s on your mind or tell me your truths—if she had any left to spare. She didn’t have the mental capacity to delve into either, so she asked the first thing that came to her.

“Why do you look as if you are minutes away from being escorted to the Land of the Dead?”

He picked up the rice ball and took a bite. “I lost a lot of blood today,” he said in between chewing.

It sent a pang of worry through her. The need to lecture him stirred her awake. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Once I eat some food and down this elixir, I’ll be fine.”

Her head fell back on the cushion, and she looked over her cheekbones at him. “You sound well-versed in the routine.”