Alora’s smile was somewhat animated. “Hi, Butch. It’s nice to see you.” He grunted.
Maya cleared her throat. “We’d like to see Imani.” She peered around him and grinned at me. “I expected you to look like shit. You look…well fucked.”
Ava chuckled. “It works on you.”
In a rush, Paige charged past Butch and clamped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry I was an unsupportive bitch. I was so worried about him letting you down that I didn’t realise I was the one letting you down. And then you got hurt and…and…”
I patted her back gently. “Hey, don’t cry.”
“I’m not.”
She was.
Jude looked at Butch. “And we’re sorry we didn’t even give you a shot.”
Cassie nodded. “We were totally out of line, and we hope you’ll give us the chance we didn’t give you…even though we probably don’t deserve it.”
Without releasing me, Paige glanced at him over her shoulder. “You really took care of her during the transition.” Which showed them just how serious about me he was. “Thank you for that.”
Butch just stared at her. Ooookay.
“Your irises really are back to normal,” marvelled Ava, shoving Paige aside. “Dude, this is some crazy shit.”
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“I’m so sorry we weren’t there for you during the transition,” said Alora. “We wanted to be, but…well, Butch was right to send us away. We totally messed up, and we hope you’ll forgive us.”
I stepped away from them and moved to Butch’s side. “Honestly, girls, I’m glad you’ve come and I’m glad you’re sorry. But I can’t truly move past this unless you’re all willing to give Butch the chance he deserves. He’s important to me. I need you to accept that or there’s no moving forward.”
“We completely accept it,” Jude assured me. “We knew he was important to you, we just didn’t realise you were important to him.” She looked at Butch. “We really are sorry we misjudged you.” It was an authentic apology. It also pulled absolutely no reaction whatsoever from him. He could hold a grudge as well as Paige.
He took my hand. “We have to go, baby.”
Cassie’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”
I sighed. “I have to talk with Marco. I’ll explain everything, just not right now.”
“Okay,” said Paige. “Call me later.”
Butch herded them out of the apartment and, my hand still in his, zoomed out of the building in vampire speed. He paused as we reached the mansion and turned to me. “Are you pissed at me for not graciously accepting their apologies?”
I shook my head. “Hell, no. They were totally in the wrong, and I don’t blame you for being wary of them. Just note that I won’t be so forgiving toward your squad either.”
He kissed me. “They won’t apologise, baby.”
“Sure they will. It’ll hurt their egos, but they’ll do it.” I tugged Butch inside the building, and we then headed beneath the mansion where the containment cells were located. Fletcher was waiting there, looking like a bag of nerves. I smiled at him reassuringly. “You’ll be fine. Marco can’t get to you.”
Fletcher fanned his face. “There’s nothing fine about being in the company of a complete sociopath.” Wincing, he said to Butch, “No offense.”
“Butch is not a sociopath,” I ground out. “Marco, well, he’s another matter. When you’re around both guys at the same time, you’ll see the difference.”
“I’ve informed Jared that we’re here,” Butch told us. “He’ll teleport in to collect us when we’re done.”
I nodded. “Let’s get on with this, shall we?”
Fletcher straightened his shoulders and stayed at my side as we walked through the passages with Butch leading the way. I couldn’t resist waving at Tait and Juliet as we passed their cells, though inside I was scowling. Finally, we reached Marco’s containment cell. Butch and Fletcher stood against the back wall as I moved closer to the glass.
In a blink, Marco was off the mattress and beaming at me. “Hello, sweetheart.” His smile shrunk as his gaze shifted to Butch. “Why are you here? I want some time with my Imani.”
“If you want to talk to her, you’ll deal with me being here,” said Butch, his tone non-negotiable.
Marco glared at him. “Does she know you’re just as cold and wacked as me? Or do you hide that part of yourself from her?”
Playing games already. “I thought you wanted to speak with me.”
Switching his attention back to me, Marco studied my face. “The serum cured you?”
“No.”
“But it changed you.”
Obviously, but this wasn’t a social visit and I needed to keep the conversation on track. Marco was trying to control it—typical. “You said the mark on the blog is an insignia.”
“Getting down to business already?”
“Either you have something to tell me or you don’t.”
“I brought you into this life without your consent. How did that make you feel? Angry? Resentful? Depressed? Eager for revenge?”