“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? Do you think that makes everything better?” I don’t give her a chance to respond. “Do you have any idea how badly I suffered when you died? I was shredded, Kat. For all intents and purposes, I was dead. Milla brought me out of the abyss. She showed me again and again how to live, how to move on, and now you’re telling me I’m going to lose her, too. That I’m going to survive and watch, helpless, as another girl dies in front of me.”
She wraps her arms around her middle. “If she doesn’t take the bullets for you, you’ll die.”
“If you think I’d rather watch her bleed out, the way I watched you, you don’t know me at all.” I stride to the far wall, away from her—I have to get away from her. My hands fist and I throw a punch, cracking the plaster, and she gasps. I throw another and another, creating a hole.
The leash on my temper breaks, and I punch and punch and punch again, my skin splitting, my knuckles cracking and swelling, but I can’t stop.
I’m not sure how much times passes before Cole grabs me by the wrist, preventing me from continuing.
“Did you know?” I demand, wrenching free.
“Not until two minutes ago.” His features are hard, determined. “To be honest, I’m not sure I would have done anything different if I had. I would have thought you’d be relieved. When Kat approached her, Camilla was your enemy. You hated her. You wanted her dead.”
“You know my feelings for her have changed. You all know.”
“We guessed. You haven’t been forthcoming with details. For all we knew, you were playing a game, hoping to break the girl’s heart and punish her for her crimes.” He adds, “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with Ali.”
I scoff. “What? You’ll spank her?” How am I supposed to cope with this? How am I supposed to go on my merry way, knowing Milla will one day die because of me?
Actually, no. I’m not. I absolutely refuse to let her die. If she isn’t protecting me, she won’t be in danger. She’ll live. I’ll die, but she’ll live, and I’m totally okay with that.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m leaving, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t follow me. Don’t come after me.”
“You’ll get no promises from me. I’ll do what I think is best. But you better be careful out there. We don’t know where Rebecca is or what she’s planning.”
Let her come after me. Let her feel the full brunt of my wrath.
“Do what you have to,” Cole says, “but get yourself together. We’re at war, and distraction can get you killed.”
“According to the vision, bullets will do the job. But better me than Milla.” I stalk from the room.
*
I’m being followed, and not by my friends.
The sedan with dark tinted windows has trailed me around several corners, making no effort to hide. Now the driver is even flashing his headlights at me, despite the glare of the sun.
One of Smith’s guys hoping to chat? Well, fingers crossed.
I drive to a nearby shopping center, where fast food abounds and superstores flood the streets with traffic. At a green light, I slam on my breaks rather than speeding through the intersection, causing the sedan to bump into my tail.
I put the truck in Park, turn on my hazards and exit, my weapons hidden under my shirtsleeves.
“I’m fine,” I tell the witnesses standing on the sidewalk, watching. “No worries.”
A slender woman with milky-white skin and jet-black hair anchored at her nape emerges from the back of the sedan. She’s pretty in a military-commander type of way. If the military commander in question is posing for a pinup. Her lipstick is bloodred, a perfect complement the tight black dress and six-inch heels she’s wearing.
Rebecca Smith in the flesh.
Hatred mixes with glee, and I reach for a blade. Slow your roll. Witnesses equal cameras. Cameras equal jail time.
Okay. No flashing metal.
“You picked the wrong time for a meet-and-greet.” I smile at her. “But it’s nice to know you got your stupid back.”
“We have a few minutes before the cavalry arrives.” She drops her chin to look at me over the top of her sunglasses. “Do you really want to waste precious seconds exchanging insults?”
“I want you to die.”
“And I want Tiffany.”
“Aw. Look who’s finally grown a heart. You normally don’t give a shit about your agents.” As long as I’ve known her, she’s only ever used others as shields.
Kinda like what I’ve been doing with Milla.
I swallow a curse.
“Everyone in my employ means something to me right now,” she says. “I’m rebuilding my business, and good slayers are hard to find.”
“Still trying to unlock the secret of immortality?” My tone is as dry as a desert. The thought of someone like Smith, with no moral compass, having no expiration date—horrifying.