But this time, I was there to help Devon.
I put my shoulder down and slammed into Grant from the side, knocking him away from Devon, making him land on his ass on the pavement. The dagger clattered to the ground, and I stepped forward and kicked it away. Then I went over to Devon.
“Are you okay?”
Devon shook off his daze and straightened back up. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“I think we should let Grant explain that.”
We both looked at Grant, who had gotten back onto his feet. His face darkened at the sight of me.
“You,” he muttered. “I should have known that you would show up and ruin everything. Again. You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”
I bared my teeth at him. “What can I say? It’s a bad habit of mine.”
“Grant, what are you doing?” Devon asked.
Grant let out a harsh, bitter laugh.
I scanned the parking lot again, searching for guards that Grant might have hired to help him. I didn’t spot anyone, but I still felt like I was missing something. Hopefully, Felix, Claudia, and Mo were on their way here right now.
Grant finally quit laughing. “What am I doing? I’m finally taking what should have been mine all along.”
“And what would that be?” Devon asked.
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “My place as second-in-command of the Sinclair Family.”
“But you’re the broker,” Devon said, still confused. “You have more money and just as much power as I do. So why would you want to be me?”
“Because then, after I kill your mom, everyone will naturally turn to me to be the new head of the Family.”
Devon sucked in a breath at Grant’s matter-of-fact tone.
Grant gave him another evil smile. “Something that your compulsion Talent will help make that much easier.”
“So you’re the one who’s been behind the attacks on Devon?” I asked, trying to keep him talking, trying to give the others time to find us.
I also put my hand on Devon’s shoulder and slowly inched to the left, taking him with me. I wanted to put as much distance between us and Grant as possible, in case he had another weapon.
“Of course, it was me,” Grant sneered. “No one else in the Family has the brains to pull off something like this.”
Devon sucked in another breath. “You—you were the one who arranged the attack at the pawnshop? You’re the one who gave those men orders to kill Ashley?”
“Oh, I didn’t just give the order. I killed her myself.” Grant’s face twisted. “The same way I killed your father.”
I frowned, wondering if Grant was lying. Because the mystery man had killed Ashley, not him. Unless . . . he was the mystery man. But how was that possible?
Devon surged forward, but I dug my fingers into his shoulder, warning him to stay back.
“Why?” He choked out the word, his hands clenching into tight fists. “Why did you kill my dad? What did he ever do to you?”
“Because he chose you to be the Family bruiser instead of me,” Grant hissed. “I was his right-hand man. I was older. I had more experience. But he told me that I wasn’t a good enough fighter, that I wasn’t as good a leader as his precious son. He made me broker as a consolation prize. Well, it wasn’t enough.”
“And you think this will be?” I asked.
Grant blinked, as if he was just now noticing that Devon and I were still easing away from him. But instead of coming after us, he gave me another smirk, as though I was doing exactly what he wanted me to. I frowned again. Why would he be looking at me like that? Where were the men he should have with him? What was he up to?
“Actually, now that I think about it, I might as well take your Talent, too, Lila,” Grant said. “It’s not as powerful as Devon’s, but sight can be handy on occasion.”
“You’re not getting my Talent,” I ground out. “I’ll die before I let you rip my magic out of me.”
“You’re gonna die anyway,” he said. “Might as well make it useful.”
Grant let out a sharp whistle. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, one by one, the doors on the cars in the parking lot opened, and men with swords started pouring out. I cursed my own stupidity. I’d been so concerned about people hiding in the shadows that I’d never considered the fact they could be waiting in the cars with their tinted windows. And now, Devon and I were both going to pay for my mistake.
Devon moved in front of me and raised his fists, but he couldn’t take them all on, not even with his compulsion magic. There were just too many of them.
I spotted a movement out of the corner of my eye, and I realized that one of the men was racing toward me. He had to have a speed Talent to move so fast. I started turning in that direction, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to block the attack—
A fist slammed into the side of my face. I staggered back, feeling a cold burst of magic racing through my veins—but it wasn’t enough.
The fist hit me again, and the last thing I heard was Devon yelling before the world went black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The ache in my arms woke me.
For some reason, they seemed to be anchored over my head, as though I were trying to do some difficult yoga move. In fact, they seemed to be stretched up so high that I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. Everything just . . . hurt.
I tried to move my arms to take the pressure off them, but something heavy was wrapped around my wrists, holding them in place over my head. Still, I struggled, wondering what was wrong and why I was having such a strange dream—
The night came rushing back. Family dinner. Mo’s call. Realizing Grant was behind the attacks. Grant confessing to killing Lawrence Sinclair and threatening to take Devon’s Talent—