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The rational part of her mind asked her why she was reacting this way. She had always known what Darien did for work, had always accepted it, right from the moment they’d met. But she had never truly thought about it. And even though she knew that the men Darien had been standing above in the basement just now were criminals, it didn’t erase the fact that she’d walked in on something she would rather not have seen at all. He was always so careful to keep this part of his life invisible to her, and she had just wrecked it—walking right into the middle of a collection, and witnessing a part of him she knew he didn’t want her to see.
Her fault. Hers, not his. She had to work through this on her own; she wouldn’t let her error affect him, not if she could help it. There was nothing in the world she couldn’t get through, as long as she had him.
Gripping the sides of the toilet, she pushed herself to her feet, lowered the lid, and flushed it. She walked to the sink and scrubbed her hands with the hottest water she could get, and when she was done, she cranked the tap to cold and splashed her face. By the time she was drying her hands, she was still shaking from head to toe, the icy temperature of the water playing no role in that.
That was when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Leaning an elbow on the counter, she took it out, unlocked it, and checked the message. For some reason, she’d thought it would be Darien checking in on her, maybe apprehensive about coming to see her in person after…that. Instead, she was faced with an unknown number.
Be at the gates of AA at quarter after one, the message read.
“Shit.” Another bout of nausea washed through her as she realized who was watching from the other end of this conversation.
She stared at the screen, debating what to do, trying to think of a plan—a way to tell Darien or one of the others what was going on.
As soon as she took a step toward the bathroom door, preparing to show this message to Darien, and not caring if she had to interrupt his collection, her phone buzzed again.
Take one more step and see what happens.
“Go to hell,” she muttered. She stomped to the bathroom door, the light of the stars and the moon filtering through the frosted window. But when she looked down at her phone again, she saw that all the messages were gone. “What…?”
Her phone buzzed again, and five photos came through. She clicked each one, the blood draining from her face.
They were all of Hell’s Gate. Photos of the house from different angles—photos marked with the current date and time.
The house was being watched. The imperator not only knew where they lived, but his people were currently stationed somewhere outside, taking pictures of their home—
This time, when her stomach heaved, it had nothing to do with what she’d seen in the basement.
The photos vanished right before her eyes, leaving the screen blank, as if no messages had been sent at all.
But then a new message came through. Tell your gutter lord one thing, and that house is being blasted sky-high.
Loren’s fingers shook as she typed up a reply. Quarter after one tomorrow?
There was a short moment of silence. Her heart slammed in her chest, and then a new message came through. One hour from now.
Loren ran her fingers through her hair. How could this night get any worse than it already was?
She was making her way to the staircase when the front door swung open, nearly giving her a heart attack. And when Ivyana walked inside, beige trench coat swishing around her hips, the feeling was barely eased.
Because Ivyana had just been outside. The house was being watched, and she’d driven right through the gates, completely unaware that her life and her home were currently in danger. Ivy, who was already upset about what was happening with Gaven, and now…
As soon as Ivy caught sight of her, she stopped, the door still open to the night—and whoever was watching. The look on her face made Loren wonder what her own looked like. “Everything okay?” Ivy asked.
Loren couldn’t find words, and the only ones she could think of were lodged in her throat—caught in the sticky web of the enchantment.
Ivy stepped into the house. “Loren? Are you sick? What’s wrong?”
Loren’s stomach roiled again, her eyes flicking to the dark yard and the road beyond. “I need to go to my school.”
She shut the door. “At Witching Hour?”
Her pocket hummed again. If she didn’t do as the imperator asked, these people…Darien, Ivyana, the others…they would all be in danger. It was better that she go, instead of standing by and waiting to see what the imperator would do if she never left this house.
“I walked in on something,” Loren said, gesturing to the basement door that she’d left ajar. “I knew better than to go down there, and I…”
Ivy’s face smoothed with understanding. “You saw.” With a soft sigh, Ivy got her keys out of her pocket. “Maybe it’s best if you spend the rest of the night in your dorm.” She gestured to the staircase. “Get your things. I’ll drive you.”
