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The few pieces of furniture in this apartment are functional rather than comfortable, but at least they’re solid. I shove the heavy sofa in front of the suite door, the only way to keep the door barred since Grandmother refuses to allow her trainees even the basic privacy of locked doors. The room feels claustrophobic even though it’s practically empty, the dim light from the single bulb making my eyes hurt.

As I listen to the distant sounds of feet stamping, of shouts, of the occasional slamming doors somewhere below, I feel torn.

I need protect Mrs. Graves.

But I have a desperate urge to get to my parents, too.

Mrs. Graves seems to sense my inner turmoil. “Scarlett, I really do think you should go.” It’s about the fourth time she’s said it, now. “Free your parents. I’ll be alright here,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

Mrs. Graves smiles sadly. “Sometimes, we have to make difficult choices to protect the ones we love.”

“You promised me you’d tell?—”

Before I can get any further, I hear quick, soft footsteps outside in the corridor, the sound of doors opening and closing growing louder. I hiss at Mrs. Graves, “Get in the bathroom and shove whatever you can up against the door. Now.”

She hesitates for a moment, but the urgency in my voice propels her into action. She hurries into the bathroom just as the suite door opens and bangs into my sofa barricade.

I back up, my gun steady in my hands, ready to defend Mrs. Graves and myself against whoever is trying to force their way in.

God, I hope it’s not Ariadne.

Because if I go up against her, the rage that seems to have died down in me for now might rise up again, demanding blood for blood. Demanding vengeance. And Lyssa was right—that rage doesn’t serve me. Doesn’t make me a better fighter. It sends me out of control, that’s all.

I need to keep a cool head, and?—

The door shudders as the person on the other side shoves harder, the sofa scraping against the floor. I brace myself as, with a final heave, the door swings open.

It’s not Ariadne.

It’s Lyssa who stands in the doorway, her blonde hair disheveled and her brown eyes hard. There’s dirt all over her, a black smear across her cheek. When she looks at me, there’s death in her eyes.

The Wolf.

And I’ve never been happier to see her.

A strange relief floods through me. Despite everything that’s happened between us, my lies and betrayal, all the terrible things I’ve done that I now regret—I’m still drawn to her.

I lower the gun. “Lyssa, I?—”

She lunges at me, striking hard and fast. I barely have time to defend myself, stumbling backward as I try to block her blows. “Lyssa, wait!” I gasp, my voice tinged with desperation. “Please, Mrs. Graves is?—”

Lyssa doesn’t listen, her attacks cold, brutal, effective. It’s all I have in me to dodge her blows. She pauses only when I vault away and yell, desperately, “Listen to me!”

“I’m done listening,” she tells me. “You took her. How could you?—”

“I didn’t have a choice!” I shout, my own anger rising. “Grandmother has my parents!”

Lyssa falters for a moment, something like understanding in her face—but then her expression hardens again, and I brace for another attack. But before she can launch at me, Mrs. Graves runs from the bathroom, her voice ringing out, “Lyssa, stop! Please, stop!”

Lyssa freezes, her chest heaving as she turns to Mrs. Graves. “Mrs. G? What the—are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

Mrs. Graves shakes her head, her expression gentle but firm. “No, I’m fine. But Scarlett’s parents…they’re in danger. Lyssa, listen to me. She chose to protect me over her own flesh and blood.”

Lyssa’s gaze snaps back to me, confusion and suspicion warring in her eyes. I take a deep breath, my voice steady as I declare, “It’s true. And I’ll help you and Mrs. Graves escape. But…then I need to come back for my parents.”

“Or I kill you here and now, like I should have long ago,” Lyssa counters.