“I wouldn’t be able to be me without you.”
The words hit harder than he meant them to. My doubts sunk back into the tar like darkness lurking deep within me. I was his best friend. His second. Approved and appointed by Ezra. I could trust her judgment. She understood.
With my thoughts collected, I stepped out from under his arm, moving toward the door before those unproductive thoughts came rushing in again.
“You were born for this, sir,” I said, keeping my tone even as I reached the door. “You’d manage.”
Behind me, I heard the shift.
“I mean…” His voice picked up again, lighter now, cocky and familiar. I glanced back just in time to see him spread his armsslightly, that smug grin creeping back in, fangs catching the light.
“Iambasically perfection.”
I stopped, turning fully with one brow lifting as I looked him up and down in the state he was currently in.Really?
The look landed, and he faltered.
His arms dropped, and a faint flush crept into his cheeks as he glanced down at himself, suddenly more aware of the state he was in.
“I mean… not right now,” he added quickly, brushing at his shirt, then his hair. “But you get it.”
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. Not when he heavily exhaled and threw his hands out to the side, giving up, before turning toward the lab doors.
“I’ll go get ready,” he called over his shoulder. “Meet you at the car.”
The next second, he was gone, becoming a blur of movement as he hit the stairs.
It was that damn Desmond confidence they all had in spades. Strong, sharp, unshakable, with their mother’s stunning looks. It was almost infuriating how natural it all came to them.
And the worst part? They weren’t wrong. It made it almost unbearable at times.
I stood there for a moment as quiet settled across the lab. I glanced at the fae blade. Beautiful shades of iridescent colors rippled down the knife, calling to me, telling me to touch it. Take it.
If I’d been a werewolf or a vampire, I might’ve growled at it, but instead I shook my head and headed toward the elevator.
***
By the time I got to the car, Calix was right behind me. Freshly showered and wearing a black button down and some slacks. It was acceptable.
We cast facial distortion spells on the way out, a faint shimmer passing over our features until we blended into the night as just another pair of faces in the crowd. Only the two of us would know who the other truly was.
I took him to the track, hoping it would lift his mood to see engines roaring down the strip, their vibrations carrying through the ground and into the stands. Supes crowded the barriers, their voices rising in bursts—cheers, taunts, bets thrown back and forth. The air smelled of fuel and heat, and magic hummed faintly beneath it all.
We watched in silence in the nosebleed seats, away from the crowds.
When the race ended, the reaction around us told the story before anyone said a word. A few people cheered, but it came out uneven, scattered. Others clapped out of habit, glancing sideways as if checking whether this outcome made sense. Some didn’t react at all, arms crossed, unimpressed.
Manshu climbed out of his car, waving, with a huge smile on his face, not noticing the lukewarm reception to his win for the night.
Beside me, Calix didn’t move. His shoulders went still, his jaw tightening as his gaze stayed locked on the track. His fingers curled once against his arm, then stilled again.
“I don’t know what the hell that was,” he muttered as we turned away.
Inside the car, the door shut harder than necessary. He leaned back, then forward again, dragging a hand through his hair.
“That’s who wins tonight?” I pulled out of the parking space and made it to the street. His hand cut through the air as he spoke. “Out of everyone? Fucking really?”
Streetlights passed over his face in quick intervals, catching the frustration building there.
