“Power.”
The girl’s friend left the table to use the restroom. Across the coffee shop, a man folded his newspaper and stood. We watched him approach the girl. Watched her cringe at his greeting, muster a brittle smile. Watched him bend close, closer, begrudging her with body language. Taking up space so she had nowhere to go, nothing to do but share it with him.
Laney and I came up from behind. I clapped a hand on his back.
“Hitting on my sister, pal?”
“Excuse me?”
My fingers dug into his jacket. “You. Are hitting. On a woman. Who’s not interested. And her big brother is very protective.”
He went rigid. His eyes locked on empty air beside my face. “My mistake. Pardon me.”
Laney and I watched him leave. The girl watched us.
“Who are—” she began.
The Little Wolf slid something across the tabletop: a postcard print of an O’Keeffe painting, luscious petals parting silkily against each other, ivory, violet, onyx. Black Iris. It was unabashedly feminine, unrepentantly sexual. A symbol of female power.
“We’re looking out for you,” Laney said softly. “Don’t be afraid. You’re not alone.”
We were on the street before the girl’s jaw finished dropping.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said as we walked. My fists furled in my hoodie. “I know why you brought me here, Lane.”
“Then don’t ask me to do something that would endanger us all.”
“I don’t need you to do it. I’ll pull the trigger. I just need information.”
“I know what you need. And I can’t give it to you.”
I snapped to a halt, hands trembling. “That’s so goddamn selfish.”
“What you’re asking is selfish. You want me to make an exception for you when it would jeopardize everything.”
“I want you to tell me where Adam is. Give me a place and time so I can do what I need to do. Is that asking so much?”
“You’ll kill him. And that’ll put all of us at risk. You want vengeance, but it won’t satisfy you.”
“It’ll help me take my life back.”
“You have a life, Ren. It’s helping girls like her.”
“What about girls like me?”
The words shot out heavy and dense as lead. Bizarre, in a man’s voice. Laughable. Instantly I recoiled, distancing myself from them physically. Laney’s mouth had fallen open. I’d never caught her off guard before.
And I’d never said something that fucked-up.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant the past. The old me. Not—look, I spent eighteen years being called that. It’s hard to unlearn.”
“I get it.” Laney touched my arm. “No need to defend yourself.”
“But there is.” I shook her off. “Because you’re telling me we can help everybody else, except ourselves. Except me. The person who’s been hurt the most. The person who deserves revenge the most. This will help others, Lane. I’m not the only one he’s hurt, or will. He’s a monster.”
Again, something strange brewed in her eyes. Hesitation. Ambivalence. She was hiding something from me. And unlike the Laney I knew, she wasn’t hiding it well.
“What is it?” I said. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I gave you my answer. Drop it.”
“Or what?”
No reply. Laney didn’t give ultimatums. She cut problems loose, regardless of whether those problems were people.
“I can’t believe you,” I said. “Ingrid is ready to do this with me. She’s got nothing—no training, no connections, but she’ll stick her neck out for me because she cares. You won’t even lift a fucking finger.”
Those bright blue eyes darkened. “I’ve done more for you than you know. Be a little less judgmental of your friends, and a little more careful who you trust.”
“Ingrid is my friend. And she’s a better friend to me right now than you are.”
“I asked you to trust me once, remember? And I gave you collateral. A sword to hold over my head.”
“I’d rather trust the girl who’s willing to kill for me than the girl who made me kill for her.”
It was insane, saying this on the street in broad daylight, but for all anyone knew we were filming some prank video to go viral. It was easier than ever to get away with this shit. So much of what we saw online was fake that people were skeptical of live reality.
“I have never asked you for anything before this. This is the only thing I need, Laney. You owe me.”
“I can’t.”
“Right,” I said, backing into the flow of foot traffic. “I get it. You won’t help me because of who I am.”
“Ren—”
“Don’t worry. Priorities understood. I should’ve known better. You only care about girls.”
“Ren, wait.”
But I was gone.
———
Run.