She backed away from him. “I don’t want to talk about this here.”
“You know that girl is a Dove, right?” Jac asked. “The gang of assassins?”
“I know what the white hair means,” Enne snapped. “But she’s not a Dove. She—”
“Obviously not,” Levi said darkly, “or you’d be dead.” Enne shuddered. “I need to know what happened.”
“Why do youneedto know, Levi?” she seethed.
“Because I’m helping you, remember?”
“I was doing fine on my own.” That was mostly true—she’d handled it, anyway.
“Were you?” He reached for her hand, but she quickly hugged her arms around herself. “You’d rather I leave?”
“I’d rather you stop being difficult.”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue something else, then snapped it shut and shook his head. Behind him, Jac was peering out the window, as if he thought he’d find more Doves lurking on Lola’s front lawn.
Lola climbed back up the stairs and handed Enne the gun. Levi reached for it sourly, but Enne quickly shoved it in her pocket. He didn’t need two. She’d give it back to him later.
“Don’t follow us,” Jac warned Lola, his chest puffed out.
She picked her scalpel up off the ground and licked her lips. “Why? Worried what would happen once you split up, and it isn’t three against one?” Jac paled and kept one hand on his holster.
Despite her threat, Enne strongly doubted Lola would try anything. If Enne could overpower her, she was sure Jac could as well with his strength talent. Maybe Levi, too. She wasn’t a real Dove.
Enne walked to the door. “Let’s go.” To her surprise, the boys followed, and Lola slammed the door behind them.
No one spoke until they reached the safety of the crowds on Tropps Street.
“She wasn’t that scary,” Jac said. “For a Dove.”
“Right,” Levi said sarcastically. “You nearly mucked yourself when she picked up that knife.”
“I’m not afraid of knives. One time, I cracked a switchblade—”
“With your teeth, and it was very impressive. I was there, remember?” Levi’s voice sounded tired.
Jac elbowed Enne in the side. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Yes,” she said, bristling. “Your stitches look horrifying.”
“I told you,” Levi muttered.
“They make me look tough,” Jac said.
“No, they make you look ridiculous.”
Levi and Jac continued to exchange words about the next day and Jac sleeping on Levi’s couch. But no matter what Jac said, all of Levi’s answers were terse, letting the silence hang in the air. He was clearly waiting for Enne to explain herself, but he was going to be disappointed. She was tired. She had rehearsal tomorrow. And she needed to think.
They paused outside St. Morse.
“That’s it?” Jac asked her. “No thank you for coming to your rescue?”
“You didn’t rescue me.” She turned to walk through the revolving doors, but Levi grabbed her arm.
“Tomorrow,” he said. It wasn’t a command, but a request. For once, his expression betrayed his thoughts. He looked worried. And he was right to be.
