Page 24 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn

I pay no mind to the crowd as we walk another small corridor, ignoring the fuckers that don’t mean a thing to me. A guard at the end stands next to a door that’s opened for me, revealing living quarters. Scanning the area that has slightly taller ceilings, more inviting furniture than what I just sat on, and trinkets all around, I can immediately tell it belongs to Ritter, and while everything looks as if it’s placed with care, it’s clear that none of this is home to him.

It reminds me of how Jane felt about Coalfell, about howIfeel about Skull’s Row. True homes carry a warm energy with a lot of personhood attached. This utterly lacks that.

By the fire sits Ritter, a few drinks on the worn, wooden table in front of him.

The door shuts behind me, and finally, I’m alone withthe Scorpion.

S O R E N

No words are spoken as I near a chair across from the Scorpion, sensing an aura that is familiar—glancing down, there’s a letter with a broken seal, one I recognize.

Why is Corvus writing Ritter?It’s so fresh I can still feel his energy on it.

My fingers roll as I think of the ring on my forefinger with a serpent imprint and how the Council’s customary wax merges with the heated ring to create something akin to naprese gold.It’s a seal no man can forge, and when it’s broken, it crumbles to pieces; impossible to read a letter and reseal.

An unnatural quiet surrounds us, despite Ritter being only a few feet from me—he might as well be a statue, so heavy in contrast to all the chaos outside here.

So, some part of me still works, even if I couldn’t feel Shade or him. Something is being blocked within me.

Narrowing my eyes, I raise my gaze to stare right at him. I wonder if this cunt knows anything about that? Yes… he’s absolutely shrouding himself, and I have no idea how or why.

“How is Jane?” he stiffly asks, sipping on a pewter mug that he taps with his forefinger.

“She’s had her life ripped from her, and now you’re back like you got lost on the way home. So she’s coping to the best of her ability,” I reply, sitting down on a moth-eaten velvet couch to alleviate feeling lightheaded.

I pour a pitcher of clear liquid, not realizing how parched I am. “Do I need to worry about poison?” The words lazily roll from my lips.

“No,” he answers dryly. “You’re not done being useful yet.”

I drain every last drop of water, sighing with relief as I stare at the ceiling that a fucking ruby grows out of like this place is infested with rubied mold.

Ritter sets his mug down before fidgeting with one of his rings—an elaborate one that’s made of silver with a hint of magic I can’t decipher—his hands part as he retreats them into the pockets of his cloak.

My eyes widen as a fierce wave of so many fucking layers that are unmistakably Ritter—of the Scorpion in all his enigmatic glory; I feel as if I’m trying to breathe underwater with how much it washes over me, pulling me deeper into a sea of unspoken crevices of his soul.

I can read him just as clearly as that room I walked through. “What the fuck just changed?”

He cocks an eyebrow, arrogance in his gaze. “Not going to read me in silence?”

“Answer my question,” I reiterate, my voice steady.

He scoffs, the sound dripping with condensation. “What authority do you think you have over me to make demands?”

I’m fucking your daughter.

I nearly laugh to myself, but I know that’s a petty comment. No, there’s one that, even after only a fewsecondsof being exposed to him that I know will crawl right underneath his skin. “Jane trusts me more than you. By a significant margin.”

After having been around him with no input, the emotions emanating from Ritter are profound and… deadly. Jane trusting me more than him is like a poisonous assault to his nervous system. My survival is born and bred in a dog-eat-dog world, and there’s incredible triumph in having such leverage over the Scorpion.

I’mrelevantto him now.

Stupid fucker.

“Do I need to watch my back around you, Ritter?” I tease, so eager to rub salt deeper into the wound. “That might piss her off, you know, if you try to kill me.”

He leans over slightly on one knee, rich brown eyes digging deep into me in a look forged over decades of sharpening his threats. “I’ve lived as another man to hide from my daughter for over a decade to ensure the cunt that killed my wife will face averyundignified end, and to simultaneously protect Jane for as long as I can afford to breathe.” He tilts his head slightly to straighten it. “Imagine what I’d do to the man that hurts, or kills, my Jane.”

Now this is utterly fascinating to finally meetCharlesRitter. “Will be quite challenging if you’re dead, and the way this cityis moving, that’s a high probability for all of us. So what’s your point?”