Page 91 of The Blood we Crave

But right now, I understood, and the idea of burning off Easton’s face made sense. All of it made sense.

The feeling of protecting what belonged to you. What you would kill to defend. For the first time, I felt that.

I sneer. “Five seconds.”

He jerks beneath my hold. “I swear to fucking God! I don’t know. She left when I did, and I didn’t see her again. I swear to God, man, I don’t know where she is.”

The panic in his voice is the sound of piano keys in the morning.

Refreshing.

The knife flips across my fingers, just before I aim the blade towards the center of his Adam’s apple. Alistair grabs my shoulder, his voice like thunder in my ear. A shattering sound in my ear that breaks across my anger like a whip.

“Thatch.” The tip of my knife dips into his flesh. “I just got her phone location from Briar, she’s still inside the circus.”

The touch of his hand tightens. It digs into my flesh like an anchor, his mouth near my ear. “He isn’t worth it. Not yet.”

My hand shakes with the need to gut Easton like a fish. Leave him lying in this parking lot, but the need to lay eyes on Lyra is stronger. It’s all that my brain can seem to care about.

I lean my body towards Easton, my mouth spewing spit across his face and my knife pressed into his throat just enough to cut him. “You better pray to whatever god you believe in, maggot. He saved you tonight.”

With the same motion as throwing out trash, I sling Easton back onto the ground. Leaving him panting and in the process of curling into a ball when I stand to my full height.

Alistair shows me his phone, the little blue dot tells me where Lyra’s location is. I straighten pulling at the lapels on my jacket, before moving towards my car.

“Ouch,” Rook coos, tapping Easton on the chest. Needing to add insult to injury. “I’d hate to be you right now, my guy.”

They each pull themselves inside my car.

“What’s the plan?” Alistair asks beside me, Rook’s hands scooting him towards the middle as he listens in. My hands flex around the wheel, the engine humming to life as I turn the key.

It’s not the apology the world would want from them, but it’s the one I need. The one that says they are willing to follow me into whatever depths in order to mend what they thought was a good idea.

I’m angry they didn’t listen. That they put Lyra at risk.

But how can I blame them when I can’t even explain to myself what she means to me? What she is?

So right now, I don’t need an apology.

I need their unending loyalty. Their anger. That dark, twisted thing that lives in each of them to come out and play with my own.

“Find her.”

nightmare circus

EIGHTEEN

lyra

The circus ring was vacant.

All the chairs that ringed the outside of the circular stage were bare. The sand inside the pit of the ring was brisk beneath my uncovered feet, rubbing against my soles.

Blood pooled on my lip, clotted from the deep split in the center of my mouth. I could feel the dried liquid sticking to my chin, the dripping had stopped several minutes ago.

My cheeks were flush, burning hot as sweat gathered on my forehead only heating further with the blinding spotlight that was beamed on my face.

I could barely make out the first row of seats just beyond the lifted barrier. The one where audience members cheered on a ringmaster walking a tightrope or an acrobat flying gracefully in the air.