Page 12 of Dance of Thorns

The city hums and honks and wails beneath us. The bitter wind howls up the side of the building, sending her blonde-pink hair blowing around and making the tendrils flutter and wrap around my wrist.

Just like her grip.

There’s pure terror in her eyes—at the almost-fall, yes. But more than that, it’s the realization that of all the motherfuckers on earth, it’smewho has her life in my hands right now.

Of all the gin joints in all the world…

…She had to pickmychosen spot to end it all. Here, of all places. And tonight, of all fucking nights.

This was Lark’s spot. Not Dove's, even if Dove always was her shadow.

Her pampered, privileged, coked-off-her-ass, mean-girl mafia-princess shadow.

My teeth grind as my eyes narrow on her.

It should have been you.

I swallow as violence and anger clash in my head. For a second, I contemplate just…letting go.

Watching her drop.

Giving her what she came up here for.

Fuck.

I’ve been avoiding her as strenuously as I knowshe’sbeen avoidingmesince she got back to New York about a year ago. Before that, there were six years of hernotbeing here.

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

Where Dove actually was the last six years, of course, is a mystery. Boarding school in England. Rehab in Switzerland. Married to a Saudi fucking prince.

I don’t know and I do not give a fuck what the story really is. All I know is, right now, I’ve got her by the throat, and I amrelishingthe look of terror on her face.

I suppose if ever there was to be a moment where the planets aligned in such a terrible way that I met Dove fucking Marchetti here of all goddamn places, this would be it.

It’s the seven-year anniversary of that night.

She’d be…fuck, twenty-four now.

It’s so damn painful to think about.

Ofcoursetonight would be the night for Dove to come here. She probably remembers the way up from learning it from Lark, same as I did.

God, that girl loved it up on this roof. She even joked in that dark, fucked-up way of hers about jumping from here. Not that anyone but me ever saw that side of her.

I saw more of her than anyone else, for better or for worse.

Sometimes definitely for worse.

But tonight, I’m remembering all the reasons I fell in love with her. The wayIdied that night, too.

“I…” Dove gulps, her throat bobbing against my knuckles. “I guess?—”

She gasps sharply as I yank her toward me, pulling her down off the ledge with my grip still on the neck of her hoodie, until her bare feet scuff and stumble on the roof itself.

My hold releases. Dove coughs a little, dragging her eyes to mine.

“I guess we’re both up here for the same reason,” she says quietly.