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“I think I loved you before I even met you, Roman. The bits and pieces I got to know.”

I don’t want to talk anymore. We’ll have to figure out the Agnarr shit sooner rather than later, but I need a minute. I lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist, before bringing her into the kitchen. Setting her down on the countertop, I kiss her—hard. Ravenous and anticipatory, she nips and bites, and I can’t get enough. This is it. This is everything I’ve been holding myself back from. Just like her, I think I fell in love with Gwyn little by little—starting before I ever spoke to her. Ever since her betrayal, I’ve held onto this idea that I never knew her and that she can’t be forgiven, but the only thing she took from me was my pride.

I’ve finally learned I don’t need it as much as I need her.

“The fuck is going on?” Margot asks, as she slams through my back door. I pull away from Gwyn, but don’t step back. My friend has been angry at Gwyn on my behalf, but it’s true relief in her eyes when she sees her unharmed. I lean in, giving Gwyn an unhurried kiss—because I want to and I can.

“Well, alright. Now that that crisis is solved, I have to show you something,” Margot says, and I only let my kiss linger for another moment before pulling away from Gwyn. My friend widens her eyes and gives me a look. “Outside.”

She turns around and walks out, leaving the door open behind her. I follow, stopping after a moment when I realize Gwyn isn’t behind me. She’s sitting there, hands gripping the counter as she bites her lip.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I say, aware of exactly what it means for me to include her in whatever new bullshit Margot is about to bring to my attention.

Gwyn only hesitates for a second, large eyes blinking in surprise, before hopping off the counter and grasping my hand in hers.

“Close the door,” Margot directs as we join her on my back deck. Zuul followed, and he runs into the middle of the yard to piss. Quietly, Margot continues. “I don’t want to get his hopes up, but I’ve been doing some digging. Now, I’m not sure, but I think I might have found her.”

“Who?” I ask, but she hands me the phone. There’s a blurred image from a gas station surveillance camera. A demon stands at the counter,easy to spot with his all-black eyes, and there’s a girl standing beside him. The angle isn’t great, but her heart shaped face and blonde hair looks familiar. “Is that Kayla?”

“I think it might be,” Margot says. “This was from three days ago, so I’ll have to find them again. But if it’s her…” she trails off.

“We can’t tell him. Not until we’re?—”

A gunshot cuts me off.

I turn toward the house, confused. Through the back window, I can see all the way to the front door. My stomach drops out and the edge of my vision grows dark. I blink, willing the horrifying image to be a false one.

Because he’s my little brother, and he can’t be...

“Oh no,” Gwyn cries out as she sees what I do.

“No,” I breathe. “No. No no no no no.”

I reach for the door. I have to help him. I have to hold him. I have to fix this like I’ve fixed everything else.

“No, you can’t,” Gwyn says, grabbing my wrist to stop me. I don’t shrug her off even though I want to. Margot’s arms wrap around me from behind and hold me tight. I could throw her off me, but I think part of me knows they’re both right.

“Maybe I can…maybe he can heal,” Gwyn says.

“You can’t see this, Roman,” my friend says as I lurch forward. “Let her do it. Let her try.”

I collapse to my knees as Gwyn goes inside. I can’t even cry as she walks the length of the house, prepared to puzzle the pieces of my little brother’s skull back together.

33

GWYN

Roman’s brotherlays lifelessly on the living room floor. I try not to look at him because once I do, I’ll have to tell Roman there’s nothing to be done. Because the weapon he used is mine, and I’m familiar with its deadly power. The hollow point bullet would have exploded on impact, leaving shrapnel and tiny pieces of silver throughout his skull. Unable to heal, he’s certainly already dead.

But I have to check. Because what if the box I pulled from to load my gun was somehow, miraculously, not full of hollow point ammunition? I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing my gun inside. It sits halfway across the room now, knocked out of Remy’s hand when he fell.

When Roman took my gun, he removed the magazine, but he didn’t clear the tip-up barrel. He’s unused to it, so it’s not surprising he missed it—but I’m familiar. I should have realized. Remy just didn’t cross my mind. I was thinking about myself. I was thinking about Roman and our history.

I should have kept it on me. I should have left it in the car. But I was scared, worried that somehow Agnarr followed me. I wasn’t even thinking about the suicidal man who lived here.

The scent of blood pooling beneath him is nearly overwhelming. My fangs extend, and I bite my lip as hard as I can to make them retract. There’s a hint of gunpowder beneath it all, but the blood is all I can think about.

I force myself to look at Remy. Long-limbed like Roman, his body takes up so much space. He’s not breathing, and I hear no heartbeat.