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Ah, that would be the elephant in the room.

“Seems so,” I remarked, diving a hand into my pocket and searching for the reverse serum.

I’d used all of them on Sloan, but I wasn’t going to outright admit it in case a multiple dosage of the reverse serum had side effects and he blamed it all on me. After everything I’d just done, it didn’t seem at all like I needed the reverse serum. But I was unnaturally tired after busting ass to get away. Maybe that was something to do with whatever the coward asshole Cash mentioned?

Either way, better safe than sorry.

Sloan dug into his back pant pocket and offered me a syringe. “Use this.”

“Wait, did that just come out of your butt pocket?” I asked sarcastically but did what he said. Sloan was scary angry, and I didn’t want to try my luck after the day we had.

The Brit’s lips tilted with amusement. “At least your sense of humor is still intact.”

“Pretty much a part of who I am at this point, so of course it is,” I remarked sassily before tossing the syringe into the grass.

Sloan sighed to himself and retrieved it. “Better not to leave anything Eros can track,” the smart Hunter commented before putting the empty syringe into his inner coat pocket.

“Ah, right. Sorry.”

I still had a lot to learn, it seemed.

The dude was a sight, though. Despite being covered in torn fabric, dirt, and blood, the Hunter wore it like any other outfit. Honestly, it was a bit annoying how tasty Sloan looked post-attack. The man could wear a black trash bag and still make it look chic.

I, however, was likely to give the impression of a deranged mental hospital escapee. My stomach was exposed by a large gaping cut along my torso—not sure how that one happened—and I’d seen Sloan’s ice-blue eyes drop to it more times than I could count. Unfortunately, that was hardly the worst of it. My hair was a woven nest mess atop my head, and only a bucket of water alongside a heavy-handed brushing would tame it.

Why, you ask yourself, was I so concerned about my looks after nearly dying at the hand of a sadistic mercenary? Blame it on youth. Blame it on hormones. Blame it on the fact that around hot guys like Sloan and Phillip, I couldn’t be anything but self-conscious.

Coming closer, Sloan touched my face. “You saved me, and I’m eternally grateful to you. I can’t fathom what happened, only that I’m glad it did.” His eyes dropped to my mouth as I brushed back frizzy, sweat-matted hair. “Thank you, V.”

It was the most inappropriate time to want another kiss, but I did. Because there I was, looking like I’d taken a spin through a tornado of glass, slow-blinking, unbelievably ready to be smooched by the gorgeous bastard who was a glowing angel in streetlight.

I’m definitely a hussy.

I should’ve been more ashamed of my wayward thoughts and ulterior motives. I mean, I had Phillip to worry about. Not to forget the renegade Dark Fae on the loose, hellbent on kidnapping me. But all I could think about was locking lips with the drop-dead gorgeous, smooth-talking Hunter.

I wasn’t a hussy. I was outright delusional.

Refusing to surrender to my out-of-control hormones, I shook my head and looked over my shoulder. “I wanted to save both of you,” I finally said, hoping the Austrian was okay wherever he was.

I’d left our weapons and belongings back where Eros was. The last letter Grams wrote me was among the things left behind, and it was a loss that hit the same way her departure had. Some of my weapons were also given to me by her, and I doubt I could find a reason to go back for them.

Hunters didn’t form attachments. Most importantly, not to items. Things could be replaced, and memories were something of a gift and curse. If Grams were here, she’d tell me to buck up and get over it. She’d tell me that getting sentimental over a bunch of shit would be the thing that got me killed, so I was right to leave it all behind to escape.

To leavehim.

The life of a Hunter was to discard one’s humanity and attachment to the world, and Grams would’ve been the first to scorn me for even acknowledging the loss.

My jaw clenched in her memory, but then I remembered her words: “Never stop being who I raised you to be. Never settle for anything less than what you want. Smile, laugh, live, love, and never forget I cherished every moment I got to be your grandmother.”In her own parting words, Grams told me to do what I wanted, and I’d do her proud. I’d live the way I wanted. I’d stop making excuses to avoid the things I wanted because I was a Hunter.

I wasn’t a Hunter. I was V.

I was the person I wanted to be, not the creation of the Organization. And in the last few weeks, I’d forgotten my vendetta. I’d forgotten the agreement shared between Phil and I to overthrow the people who were behind my parent’s deaths. Very possibly Grams’s, too.

Sloan chuckled low in this throat before getting to his feet. “Something tells me Phillip is fine.”

He stared out the direction we’d come from, a poignant smile distorting his mouth.

It may have taken me a moment, but I remembered the two of them were friends. Maybe I wasn’t the only one suffering the loss of Phillip. Maybe I wasn’t the only one drowning in guilt for leaving him.