Page 58 of The Villain

“Where is he?” I ask.

“Not here. Are you hurt?” he asks. “Did he hurt you?”

“Cold.” I’m shivering so hard my teeth are chattering. I try to pull the blankets close with my numb fingers. Jet does it for me, wrapping the blankets tightly around me. He crouches down to rub warmth into my arms before taking one of my feet and rubbing it. I’m so cold it feels like I’ll never warm up. He does the same with my other foot before tucking both beneath the blanket.

“I’ll get you some whiskey. That’ll warm you up.”

I watch him cross the room and open a cabinet. His back is broad, those scars I saw on his chest also mark his shoulders, his lower back. A moment later, he returns with a tumbler of whiskey. I don’t like it, but I drink it because he’s right, it will warm me. It makes me choke at first, but then it’s all right and I drink it all.

“Better?” he asks.

I take a breath in, look up at him and nod. “Where is he?” I ask again.

“He should never have taken you.”

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about Cassian now. Lie down, close your eyes.”

“Is he going to put me back there?”

“No. Just lie down, Allegra.”

“But when he comes back?—”

“I’ll be here. I won’t allow it. Now lie down. Close your eyes.”

I nod because that’s what I want too. To lie down and burrow under the heavy, second duvet he is laying on top of me. I hug them to me, covering half of my face up to my ears and closing my eyes as if that will keep me safe in this violent world of ours.

16

CASSIAN

When I walk into the house, I find Jet leaning casually against the kitchen counter peeling a green apple, the skin hanging from the fruit in one long swirl. He watches my approach, his gaze dark.

Angelo’s text comes back to me. The gun that someone hand-delivered to Vivi’s mother in the guise of a present for a two-year-old is registered to Blackstone Holdings.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand, the bullet burning a hole in my pocket. I stalk up to him.

Blackstone Holdings could mean Jet, Severin, Sybil or any one of their security team.

“Your dog call you?” he asks, making a barking noise at Enzo.

In fact, Enzo did call me as I was on my way back from the café. Jet and Enzo hate each other. They have from day one. Jet slices off a wedge of the apple andbrings it to his mouth at the point of the sharp knife. He eats it before slicing another and holding it out to me like we’re not discussing what we’re discussing.

I slap his arm away. The apple goes flying, the knife clanking loudly on the stone floor. “What the fuck did you think you were doing?”

He stands up to his full height and comes nose-to-nose with me.

“What the fuck was I doing?” he asks, eyes narrowed. “Do you have any fucking idea how cold it is down there? Did you want her to freeze to death? Or just be terrified to death?”

I snort, but he’s not wrong.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He shoves me backward.

Enzo takes a step toward us, but I signal for him to stop, never taking my eyes off Jet. I recall the leak about the shipment within my own household and now this. Now that gun. Am I surrounded by traitors?

“Why do you care? And while you’re answering that question, why don’t you tell me what the hell you’re doing here anyway?”