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“I know you don’t want me here. You’ve never wanted me here.” She strode for the bed, grabbing her backpack from it. “So why don’t I give you exactly what you want.” She marched for the door, causing a strange panic to spike my heartbeat.
“Ooohhh, no no no.” I moved in front of her, blocking her exit. Grabbing her arm, I shifted her back farther into the room. “You don’t get to walk away now.”
“Why? It’s what you want.”
“Tell me what the hell is going on.” I ignored her claim, getting in her face again. “Who is that woman? How are you involved with Nicolay? I heard her call you Raven… is that your name?”
Her head jerked to the side, her lids blinking, her tongue sliding over her bottom lip.
“Is it?” Though I already knew.
“Yes,” she replied quietly.
Backing up, a sense of betrayal rolled my hands into fists. A part of me wasn’t surprised at all, like the whole time I knew the other name didn’t fit her.
“Scarlet is my middle name. It was my grandmother’s name.” She shifted on her feet. “My first name is Raven.” With her long dark hair and beautiful, refined features, it was as though the moniker was made for her, was her in every aspect. And I recognized it as if I identified before I actually knew…
Dziubus—my little beak.
“So you lied to me?”
“Like you haven’t lied to me.” She flung out her arms.
“I have never lied to you.”
“I didn’t know who I could trust.”
“Are you kidding?” I motioned around the room, tapping at my chest. “You are the one who stalked me. Followed me all the way here.”
“I know.” Her cheeks colored, and she turned away from me.
“Why was that girl who was partying with you in the bar now with the Russians? I thought she was your friend.”
“I thought so too.” Raven brushed her hand over her face, pacing in the tight space, a devastating truth reflecting on her features. “But this whole time…” She wiped her eyes. “I thought she was someone I could trust. My family could. Someone I called a friend.” She cleared her throat. “I feel so stupid. How could I not see the truth?”
“Do you know her connection to them? Why are they after you?”
Raven’s head lowered, her long hair curtaining around her face.
“Scar—Raven?” I corrected myself. Her name sparked off my tongue, feeling natural and commanding. Names held power with fae, and now that I knew her real one, I could see the effect it had on her when I uttered it, feel it hum in my bones.
A shiver ran down her spine, her breath catching. Her head shook as she moved farther away from me, staring out the window.
“What happened?” Alarms were warning me that this young coed wasn’t as innocent and sweet as I thought. “Raven…”
Her body jolted at my commanding tone, importance wrapping around her name.
“I…” She folded her arms. “I did something. Unforgivable.”
“What?” I moved closer. “What did you do?”
She stared out the window, her voice thick. “I killed someone.”
To most, it might be a frightening declaration to hear. To me, the life I had lived since I was born, and even more so when Warwick and Kitty were running a city, death was often something we dealt with daily. And many deserved it.
“Did you do it out of necessity?”
Her head shook, her lower lip trembling. “No,” she croaked.
