Page 40 of Unveil

“I’ll drink if you untie me.”

“So you can attack me and run us off the road?” he scoffs. “I don’t think so.”

“Then I don’t want it,” I croak.

His good mood drops with his voice. “Drink your water, Luna.”

Now,whydid that command vibrate through me down to my core? My inner muscles need to stop it with their freaking grand jetés and pirouettes.

I narrow my eyes. “What, are you trying to drug me again?”

His fingers crinkle the plastic, expression darkening with anger as he sets the bottle in a cup holder.

“I didn’t drug you. Ididplan to tranq you?—”

“Semantics much?”

“—with the very low dose that I wound up using on your father.” He eyes me. “I was only going to use it on you to get you out of there safely. But Luna, you were already fading before that, and the motherfuckers who actually drugged you had worse intentions. You can thank your sham of a fiancé for that.”

“Zy? Please. Ozias is a gentleman. A white knight. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“You think?” He grabs his phone from another cupholder, scrolls, then shows it to me.

The photo’s blurry, but I can make out a blond guy with a deadly slice across his throat laying on the bloody ground.

“Oh my God, you killed Rufus? Is Zy really in the hospital, or did you kill him too?” I cry, remembering the hazy scene from the alley.

“No. If I’d wanted to, I would’ve. But believe me, if I could go back in time, he’d be worse off than his cousin. Because this—” he zooms in on a blister pack of pills on the body, “—is a new party drug, Pining. My brother confirmed it from the tree stamp on the pill. It’s basically Rohypnol mixed with Molly. You remember how I took your drink before we danced?”

Dread pools in my stomach. “Yeah?”

“We found the drugs on Rufus after Bart hinted at making you more ‘compliant.’” That last word rumbles out on a murderous growl as he carelessly tosses the phone into the passenger seat. “I thoughtthatwas the laced drink. Then you said it was the shot.” He massages his forehead. “What were you thinking, babe? Taking a drink from Bartholomew Wilde?”

“Wilde?” My eyes widen. “No, no… they’re Thrashers. Family friends.”

He shakes his head, face grim. “Your dad’s intel was wrong. Ozias’sstepdadis a Thrasher. Ozias and his cousins? Wildes.But besides all that, you just met Rufus and Bart last night. It was reckless.”

“I’m notreckless. Nothing bad like this has ever happened to me.”

“Yeah, becauseIwas protecting you.”

“What are you talking about? My dad protects me. His shadows. My brother, Benoit?—”

“And me,” Orion cuts in, jabbing his chest. “I’ve been in New Orleans for years. Watching you. Making sure no asshole did exactly what happened when I wasn’t there for just five goddamn minutes.”

I glare. “Blaming the victim much?”

“Hell no. If anyone, I blame myself. But fuck, babe, you’ve gotta be more vigilant. Your father’s a king on this board, but that makes him and everyone he loves a target. He’s tried to protect you, but he’s stretched too thin after taking over most of the South. Ozias and his cousins slipped past his defenses. The Wildes had the Troisgarde daughters in their sights since they found out about the pact.”

I sift through all that information, deciding which facts to argue over and which ones open doors to more answers. He’s singing like a songbird now, but Dad taught me to ask the right questions before the answers dry up.

“My father said I had nothing to worry about with that pact. He refused to comply because it was bullshit and you Furys know it. If I’m in danger, it’s becauseyoudragged us into a war by telling your enemies there’s an alliance that’s never gonna happen.”

“The fuck we did,” he snarls. “Your father’s the one trying to renege on a vowhemade. My family’s followed the pact to the letter, including keeping quiet. We know more than anyone what’s at stake, and we’d never put our brides at risk. We even put out rumors that we weren’t coming for y’all until you weretwenty-five, and yet the Wildes struck hours before your twenty-second birthday. Which means there’s a rat in the Troisgarde. Your father needs us.”

I scoff. “My dad’s more afraid of me running away and getting into trouble than anyone hurting me.”

“Your father’s not afraid of you running away. He’s afraid of you being hunted.”