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Ever since I found out Vance was my brother—ever since he gave up my mate to get me back—things have gotten worse between us. They were never good, of course—how could they be, when he spent his whole life lying to me?
But this…
…I want to kill him.
I want to take the knife in my hand and hold it to his throat until he brings her back to me.
“Where is she, Vance?” My voice cuts through the quiet of the room, as sharp as the blade in my hand.
He looks up, irritation flickering in his eyes. “I told you, Gunnar. Drop it. Aisling’s gone.”
“Dead people don’t whisper in the shadows, Vance.” I take a bite, chew slowly, watching him stew in his seat. I would feel it if she was dead; there’s no way I wouldn’t know, not after all the bites I’ve put on her.
“Believe what you want. But chasing ghosts won’t bring her back,” he says, setting down his fork with a clatter. “She’s as good as dead. Let it go.”
That phrase, ‘as good as dead,’ sets off alarms in my head. ‘As good as dead’ ain’t good enough. I lean forward, the scent of cooked meat between us dull compared to the stink of his lies.
“Or maybe you just wish she was,” I say, locking eyes with him. “Because if she isn’t, that means she’s out there, and you’re scared she’ll come back for revenge on you.”
I don’t know exactly what went down, but I can’t imagine she would have left us willingly, no matter what Vance says. He took her from us, gave her away.
She’d want him to pay.
Vance leans back, a faux calm spreading over his features. “You’re letting your obsession with her cloud your judgment. She left, Gunnar. Left all of us. Including you.”
“She wouldn’t have done that.”
“She did, and you need to get over it.”
“And that doesn’t even begin to cover what you’ve done since she left…turned into a spineless asshole,” I mutter.
He raises his eyebrows. “Go on.”
“Vance, you’ve let the Eclipse turn Echo Beach into their own personal hunting ground,” I snap, slamming my palm down on the table. The plates rattle, but Vance just pours himself another glass of whiskey, unbothered.
“Business is business,” he replies coolly. “And the Angels have other concerns.”
“Concerns?” I lean in, anger heating my words. “Free omegas are disappearing, Eros junkies are tearing up the streets, and you’re here getting sloshed on fifty-year-old scotch? You gave her up as if it was essential to our business, and now you’re just…I don’t even know what you’re doing.”
He swirls the golden liquid in his glass, eyes steady on mine. “The Eclipse does what it does. We can’t save everyone, Gunnar. It’s not our job.”
“Since when do we turn a blind eye to suffering in our own backyard?” I demand, my voice rising with each word. “Luka’s gone missing too. Don’t tell me you don’t care about that?”
“Ah, Luka.” Vance waves a dismissive hand, as if swatting away a fly. “He’s always chasing some spiritual high or another. He’ll turn up.”
“Or maybe he’s in trouble, and you’re too damn heartless to see it,” I shoot back, my patience fraying at the edges.
“Watch your tone,” Vance warns, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. His indifference fuels my frustration like gasoline on a fire.
“Is this how it’s going to be now? Since Aisling left, you’ve got no fight in you?” I accuse, my voice dropping lower, more dangerous.
Vance sets his glass down with deliberate slowness, his gaze locking onto mine.
Then he drops the bomb.
“Let me tell you something about your precious Aisling,” he says, voice laced with venom. “She kissed me before she left. Said goodbye in her own special way.”
I clench my fists, feeling the blood pulse hot and fast through my veins. “You’re lying.”
