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“Who is she?” he asks, eyeing Avni with intentional desire. His eyes roam all over her body, torturously slow and suggestive. Something burns in my chest.

Trist’s eyes immediately snap to Avni, then back to Rowan and he may as well be a dog baring its teeth and about to piss on its favourite tree. “Off-limits.”

Her face remains neutral, but her eyes fall on me again, like she’s trying to tell me something. I can’t read the message because unlike with Halle, Avni and I were never friends. She was just someone like me, doing their best with what they had.

“Same as him then,” Rowan says easily before shooting me a conspiratorial smile. “My favourite plaything.”

For a second, I think I misheard him, then I realise I haven’t. A strange heat rushes over my body like a hot flash.

“Well, your plaything sure has a lot of interesting ideas,” Trist says, but I’m only half- aware of the way he’s still looking at me.

“What can I say? He hates seeing people die. You know the altruistic type.”

Before I can react, I feel the warm grip of Rowan’s hand on the nape of my neck as he draws me in. He tugs me closer until our faces are mere inches apart, his scent dancing over my nose, his warm breath on my face, and his palm burning my skin. I cansee every inch of his face, every mark, every line, and the perfect dip of his cupid’s bow. My insides feel like they are melting.

He grins. “Aren’t you, Lexie?”

Lexie.

He started calling me that a week into seeing each other. It made me feel like I belonged to him, like I was something delicate and important enough to keep. I realise now how pathetic that made me and now the name makes me ill.

I hold my breath, stopping myself from breathing in his scent, from focusing on his touch after two years. It’s all too much. Yet, I don’t recoil like I know I should. I stay in the same position, staring into the blue of his eyes, and it’s like every inch of me has been lathered in gasoline and set on fire.

“Then you’re in the wrong business,” Trist grunts from where he sits, breaking whatever spell I’ve fallen under.

Rowan’s lips twitch and finally, he releases me, his hand falling to his side as he turns back to Trist, looking completely unaffected by what just happened. I pray I’m not red all over, but my palms are sweating profusely, and it feels like the room is spinning.

“But he is right,” Rowan says. “None of us want the police to get suspicious. If something is wrong with it, it’s best we stop it now.”

Trist is quiet for a second, his eyes meeting one of the bodyguards who came in here with us, then, “I’m not behind Haze. In fact, I don’t know who is. I just sell it.”

That catches my attention.

“Then how do you get the product?” Rowan asks before I can.

“There’s a drop off location. I get a message; I deposit the money, and I sell it.” Trist shrugs.

“I’m going to need that account,” Rowan says.

Trist grins, shaking his head. “You think I’d just hand you the contact like that?” he laughs. “Look, I’ve been selling this shitfor weeks and so far, I haven’t gotten any complaints. If some kids are dying, that’s not my problem. Kids die from drugs all the time. That doesn’t mean I gotta stop making money. I’m sure you understand that better than most, Vasilyev.”

Rowan tilts his head. “What’s your number?”

“I already told you I don’t have one. Haze will make me more money than you can afford. You being here confirms that.”

He’s not going to budge. He just wanted Rowan here for a power play, to show everyone in here that the rumoured heir to The Snake came to see him and begged him to make a deal. This will do him more favours than any amount of money could, and we played right into his hands.

“Are you sure you want to go against me?” Rowan asks.

Trist laughs, his head falling back against the scrunched velvet couch. “Oh no, that’s the last thing I want. But either way, you can’t do anything to me. My status as a Scarlet Raven means you can’t kill me. If you do, you start a war, and I think we both agree that that’s the last thing Senna needs right now.”

“You think you’re that important?” Rowan asks. “Moreau would hand your head on a platter to me if I asked.”

“Then please, ask him,” Trist says, grinning. “But if you do that, you’d just be attracting more attention to this. And c’mon, Rowan, you’re here without security so this must all be top secret. If it wasn’t, you’d have sent someone to rough me up a little bit, no?”

We’re fucked and Rowan no longer has a leg to stand on. By trying to keep this quiet, Rowan loses his power to do anything. We’re back to square one.

“It was nice meeting you, Vasilyev. Frankie here will see you two out.”