Page 10

W e cross the Brooklynn Bridge, and the GPS hooks us around toward the water. We pass shipping yards, a pier, and warehouses. And finally, Billings pulls up to the curb in front of a brick building that is about as nondescript as I could imagine.

Just as Billings holds the door open for me, a sleek black car parks right behind us.

There is a terrifying looking woman with dyed purple hair at the wheel.

But Harry immediately exits the back seat and walks to my side as I open Ophelia’s door, catching her before she can slump to the concrete and get a concussion.

“This is the one who did this to Ares?” Harry asks, observing as I scoop Ophelia into my arms. It’s insane how easy it is now to carry someone who weighs more than me and is taller than me.

“Unfortunately,” I admit as I follow him to a steel door. I expect him to dig in his pocket for keys. Instead, he presses his palm to a black square to the side of the door. A moment later, there’s a beep, and I hear the lock unlatch.

Harry is definitely the most high-tech of the Barons.

He pulls the door open for me, and I step inside.

It’s dark, but my eyes adjust rapidly. There are stacks and stacks of boxes, the space feeling very much like a warehouse or storage facility. But Harry walks past all of it, pushing back into the maze of cardboard. We walk past a set of stairs that rise up into the three-story building.

I know it when I see it.

There, in the middle of the building, is a steel box.

It’s so plain yet intimidating all at the same time. There are shiny steel walls all around, and facing us are two heavy duty doors. Once more, Harry presses his palm to a scanner, and a moment later, the door clicks as it unlocks.

Harry pulls the door open, and my heart drops when I take in the prison cell.

There’s no other way to describe it. The walls inside look exactly like the outside. Shiny steel. There is a twin-sized bed against one wall. There is a small bathroom in one corner. There’s a shelf against another wall that has some non-perishable goods, and a microwave on a tiny countertop.

I have to contain Ophelia. I don’t trust her with a single bone in my body that she won’t run now that the truth has come out.

But I feel fucking awful locking her up. She spent two months locked beneath a mausoleum. This prison is certainly a million times better than that one. But still.

I’m locking her up again.

Hopefully, it’s only for a few hours, maybe a few days at most.

And unlike when Augustus took her and sold her, this time, Ophelia is here because of her own actions. She made Ares kill people.

Fuck.

It’s all so fucked up.

I lay Ophelia down on the bed, my stomach twisted in knots.

“This is her?” Harry asks, studying Ophelia. “Your old best friend?”

I nod. “Guess I owe Sysco an apology. He seemed to see it the moment I told you both about her.”

“Sometimes we’re too close to situations to see the whole picture,” Harry says as he takes a bag of blood from his pocket and hands it to me. “Don’t be too hard on yourself for not wanting to think the worst of someone you once loved.”

“Thank you, Harry,” I say, truly appreciative of his understanding.

I bite into the bag, draining it down. It coats my insides, cooling my body.

I feel that shift inside, the one like my entire body is being lit up by divine electricity.

My eyes close for a second as the wave of perfection washes over me.

“Good stuff?” Harry asks.

I open my eyes to see him studying me with one raised eyebrow. His look is inquisitive, but a little perplexed. “It should be disgusting, but somehow it’s the best thing ever.”

He gives a small half smile, one that says he understands.

I eye the man beside me. “Why don’t you seem surprised by this? The fact that Ophelia could make Ares do all this? It’s still shocking the hell out of me, and I’ve had a few days to process the idea that there are other supernatural… beings out there besides vampires.”

Harry’s eyes slide over to me. “America is still such an infant in so many ways. A couple of supernaturally gifted people got caught, and they hunted them down, plus a bunch of innocent people. But back home in Korea, there are shaman who are well known.”

I arch an eyebrow at that.

“Are you really all that surprised?” Harry asks. “All the stories. All the legends.”

“My awesome American education didn’t cover much of Korea’s witch history.”

“They prefer the name mudang . Witch is too Americanized,” Harry says, cracking the first joke I’ve ever heard from him, even though it’s not really a joke.

I chuckle and shake my head. “The world just keeps spinning further into insanity,” I say. “I never?—”

Ophelia stirs on the bed, a groan coming from her throat. She rolls over on the bed, a curse coming from her lips as she stretches her neck. I’m sure she’s damn sore.

“Don’t try that again,” I warn her. She was trying to talk me into leaving Ares when I knocked her out.

Ophelia jerks up in the bed, shoving herself across it, getting as far away from me as she can. Her gaze rips around the room, and I see it as she begins realizing where she is and what this all means.

“I need to know exactly what it was you told Ares to do,” I say, using every bit of my willpower to stay composed. I want to have a full-on tantrum. I want to go all WWE on her ass. The amount of rage I feel in this moment is astounding .

“What the fuck , Lana?” Ophelia snarls, her gaze fixing on me again. And as we stare at each other, that is absolute hatred she’s broadcasting at me.

“I’m not playing games, Ophelia,” I say, taking a step closer to her.

She eyes me warily, but she doesn’t have anywhere else to retreat to.

“This could have gone very differently, but now we’re all dealing with the consequences of your choices.

I’m really, really losing patience. So, tell me. What exactly did you tell Ares to do?”

“Fuck you,” she says in a breath, glaring daggers at me, but her curse comes out a little breathy and scared.

Harry takes a step forward. I see his eyes flash red, and two little indents form on his lips as his fangs extend.

But he doesn’t freak out. He doesn’t snarl at her.

In fact, he keeps his hands tucked in his pockets.

He steps to the edge of the bed. He leans forward.

Those glowing red eyes of his stay fixed on Ophelia as he leans in, his face only a foot from hers.

At Harry’s approach, at his very obvious vampireness, Ophelia quakes.

“I am not a person who likes messes,” Harry says.

His voice is deadly calm. “In fact, before I Resurrected, I had some pretty severe OCD. And while I never received a diagnosis, if I had to guess, I’m on the spectrum.

I really, really don’t like when people make messes.

I really don’t like when they mess with shit they shouldn’t touch.

So, Ophelia. I need you to tell us exactly what you told Ares to do. ”

Ophelia’s entire body shakes. Her eyes are bloodshot. I can smell the perspiration on her skin. She’s breathing so hard and so deep, I hope she doesn’t pass out.

“I told him vampires shouldn’t exist,” she says, her words rough and difficult to understand with how bad she’s shaking. “I told him to kill every vampire he knows in New York.”

A curse leaves my lips, even though it’s exactly what I was expecting.

“What else?” Harry asks, his voice low and icy calm.

My stomach drops out. No. There is nothing else. That alone is horrific enough. There can’t be anything else.

But as I look at Ophelia, I see what Harry sees. She’s holding something back.

And from the way the terror on her face deepens, I know it’s going to be bad.

Ophelia’s eyes slip from Harry’s to fix on the surface of the bed. “I told him to kill every vampire he knows in New York and, when he was done, to kill himself.”

My stomach disappears. My world tilts on its axis. All the oxygen in the room evaporates.

A curse slips from my lips. I turn from the vault, and my feet move before my brain can process everything I just learned.

“Ares!” his name rips from my lips as a scream as I dart back out into the city.