“Ronan?” Was this another trick? Maybe I hadn’t made it out at all. Maybe I’d only found my way into another chamber in hell, full of fresh torments and hallucinations.
“Gray Desario,” Ronan announced, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought he’d shatter his teeth, “your contract has been called.”
His tone was stiff and formal, every one of those words pushed through lips that didn’t want to yield.
But they did yield.
“I’m here in my official capacity as Guardian at the Crossroads to inform you of your eternal imprisonment and to escort you to your…” He paused, swallowing hard, stumbling. “To your master. Do not attempt to renegotiate. The terms of your contract are binding in accordance with the laws of the Crossroads and upheld by all the courts of the realms.”
Ronan rattled off a bunch of rules and regulations, each one clearly regurgitated from memory. The ice in his voice reached into my heart, freezing me all the way down to the bone.
I wondered how many times he’d had to do this before. How many times he’d have to do it again once I was “escorted” into Sebastian’s possession and no longer Ronan’s responsibility. He was, after all, a crossroads demon, oathbound to serve at his master’s pleasure.
From the sound of it, it was only a matter of seconds before that master was the very last thing Ronan and I would ever share.
“Stop!” I shouted, climbing out of the bed and rushing over to Ronan.
“Oh, but I can’t,” he said sardonically. “This is my job. You always wanted to know where I disappeared to all those times. What I did. Now you get an up-close-and-personal view.”
“Don’t do this,” I whispered. “Just… wait. Five minutes.”
He clamped his mouth shut, and I reached for his face, running my fingers along his jaw. A shiver rolled through him, but before he fully leaned into my touch, he reached up and grabbed my wrist, yanking my hand away.
“Don’t,” he said. Cold. Dead.
Fear and confusion flooded my heart.Thiswas how he wanted to say goodbye?
“What’swrongwith you?” I asked.
Ronan took a breath, but before he could answer my question, the skin on my wrist—all the places where his fingers touched—began to smolder.
He released me as if I had the plague, his lip curling in disgust.
“Stay away from me, Gray.” He held his hands up in front of him, slowly backing away. The hounds followed his every move, never leaving his side.
When I reached for his face again, they snapped at me in warning.
So that’s how it’s going to be.
“Let me guess,” I said, pulling away and rubbing the heat from my wrist. “This new little trick of yours is courtesy of Sebastian, Prince of Hell, He Who Thinks He Owns Me?”
“It’s not a trick, Gray. It’s a price.” Ronan sighed, finally dropping the stiff formalities. “Hedoesown you. I’ve been fighting with him for a decade, looking for some technicality that could get you out of this mess, all for nothing. The only thing that kept you safe was the fact that you fucking stayed alive. But now?”
“Newsflash, Ronan. I’m still alive.” I waved my hand in his face, displaying the red, angry welts quickly rising on my wrist. “Case in point.”
“Colebrook was supposed to bring you back unharmed. Did he say anything about this?”
I took a steadying breath, trying to gather my thoughts. I didn’t want to rehash the whole Death mantle thing right now, or give Ronan a reason to hate Liam. Despite my own anger toward him, I couldn’t rule out the possibility of a future reconciliation. I already missed him so much—the flannel, the sun-kissed hair, the annoyingly philosophical conversations, the stupidly kissable lips. The whole situation was impossible, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth fighting for.
And Liam owed me a fight. That was for sure.
As much as I wanted to deny it, Liam—Death—was a part of me, stitched into the fabric of my soul. I couldn’t imagine my world without him.
“Liam and I came to an agreement with Sebastian,” I said, glossing over the details. “The only way to get my soul out of hell and back into my body was to fake out the universe. We had to trick the natural order into believing I’m dead. Unfortunately, that means—”
“It means you’re dead,” he said with a defeated sigh. “At least as far as the contract goes. That son of abitch!”
Ronan looked like he wanted to pulverize something. Or someone. I was grateful Liam wasn’t here.
