Page 62

I swing it open to find Tiny standing there, his face grim, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white.
I know that look. It’s the look a man gets when he’s about to burn the whole fucking world down.
“Get dressed,” he grits out. “We got a problem.”
My gut tightens. “What the fuck happened?”
Tiny exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It’s Syvannah.”
Aerianna is out of bed in an instant, already pulling on her clothes. “What about her?” she demands.
Tiny hesitates for half a second. Just enough for my stomach to fucking drop. Then he says the one thing that makes my blood turn to ice. “She’s back.”
Aerianna stills beside me.
I narrow my eyes. “Back from where?”
Tiny’s jaw clenches. His voice is rough, edged with fury. “From him.”
The entire fucking world shifts beneath my feet. I don’t need to ask who. There’s only one bastard it could be.
Lattimer.
I grab my cut off the chair and yank it on, my mind already spiraling with a thousand different ways to make that motherfucker pay.
“When?” I demand.
Tiny’s eyes darken. “Twenty minutes ago. She just showed up outside the gates. She looks bad, man.” His throat works like he’s swallowing down rage. “She won’t talk. Won’t tell me what happened. But I know.” He shakes his head, his massive hands flexing. “I know.”
Aerianna steps forward, eyes sharp with something lethal. “Where is she?”
“In the common room. Capone’s with her.” Tiny scrubs a hand down his face. “But it’s bad, brother. Real bad.”
I don’t waste another second. I storm out of my room, Aerianna and Tiny flanking me as we head toward the common room. The moment I step inside, everything stops.
Syvannah is there. Her arms are wrapped around herself, her skin pale, bloody, and bruised. Shadows cling to her like a second skin, darkening the hollows beneath her eyes. Eyes that look empty. Like something vital has been carved out of her and left to rot. The kind of hollow that only comes from monsters.
I clench my fists so tight my nails bite into my palms. She looks up, and the moment her gaze meets Tiny’s, something inside her breaks. A fractured sound slips past her lips, and she stumbles toward him. Tiny catches her before she collapses, his massive arms the only thing keeping her upright.
“Jesus, Vannah,” he rasps, his voice raw. “What the fuck did he do to you?”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move. She buries her face against his chest, her entire body trembling like a live wire. Tiny holds her tighter, one of his hands cradling the back of her head, but his eyes find mine over her shoulder, burning with barely contained rage.
I know that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror too many times to count.
Aerianna steps forward, her voice careful, controlled. “Syvannah.” She keeps her distance, like she knows crowding her will make it worse. “You’re safe now.”
Syvannah flinches at the word safe. Her breathing stutters, hitching like she can’t get enough air.
Tiny shifts his grip, trying to steady her, but the second his fingers brush against her wrist, she jerks back with a strangled noise. A flash of something dark and ugly flickers in her expression before she schools it, forcing it down.
She won’t meet our eyes.
My stomach drops.
“Vannah.” Tiny’s voice is softer now, coaxing. “Talk to me.”
She shakes her head once, a sharp, jerky movement. Her lips part like she wants to speak, but nothing comes out.