Byron Chambers lived in a bougie building in Century City, in an apartment that was exactly what she would have expected from him—expensive, pristine, and utterly tasteless. He was sitting on a wide sectional when she entered, football playing on the too-large flat-screen mounted on the wall.
He turned to her, his eyes showing no fear. Only amusement. “Katherine,” he said. “Twice in one week. I’m starting to think you have a thing for me.”
Her fists clenched. “Admit it.”
He stood, a smile ghosting over his face as he paced toward her. “I have nothing to admit, Katherine. I’m just an honest, trustworthy member of a coven you swore to uphold the laws of. Laws that do not include breaking into my apartment.”
“Where is the cauldron?”
“Are you okay?” He took a step closer, leaning in and resting his hand on her cheek. “I’m worried about you. This is bordering on delusional.”
Katherine couldn’t help it. She grabbed his wrist and wrenched his hand off her.
He laughed. And then he slammed her head into the wall.
The pain was instantaneous, a sudden headache splitting her apart. Blood trickled down her temple as she stumbled back.
She hadn’t been prepared for the physical violence of it. She’d been expecting a magical attack. But in magic, they’d be on equal footing. With his fists, she was just another woman trying to fight off a man twice her size.
Well, she could do that too.
She whirled at him and slammed her knuckles into his face.
He had the nerve to grin at her, red staining his teeth. “I had a feeling you’d be a hellcat.”
That snapped something in her, and then she was on him, fists and nails and teeth. He was stronger than her, but it didn’t matter—she hadrage. He threw her body into the counter of his kitchen island, and she was up in seconds, clawing at his face. He yanked at her hair, and she let him tear a chunk of it out as she kneed him in the balls. He grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging in until she heard bones creak, and she slammed her head into his so hard she saw stars.
Pain didn’t exist in this space. All that existed was him, and her desire to pound him into the fucking ground.
She aimed a punch at his stomach, but he ducked back, then surged forward, shoving her away from him. Her back hit the glass of his coffee table, which smashed to the ground beneath her. And then Byron was there, his body on top of her, pushing her further into the glass until she screamed.
She grabbed a piece of it and stabbed it into his bicep.
He let out a feral howl as he rolled off her, and she moved quickly, slamming her body on top of his, pinning his hands with her knees as she grabbed another shard of glass and held it against his throat.
“Admit it.”
Byron said nothing. She pressed the glass into his neck, drawing a prick of blood.
“Admit it,” she repeated, digging the glass in harder as he moaned in pain.
“Fine!” he yelled. “Fine, okay? I’ve been making the altum.”
Katherine kept the pressure on the glass, ignoring the sting of it cutting into her fingers from her tight grip.
“You sold it to her.”
“I sold it to a lot of people!”
Katherine gripped the glass tighter, drops of her blood dripping onto the carpet, mixing with Byron’s.
“You sold it to Lily.”
Byron’s brow furrowed. “Who the hell is Lily?”
“The unsettled witch from the coven meeting. You sold her drugs, and then she snapped, and she—”
Katherine’s voice fell off as she took in Byron’s bloodied face. He looked… confused. Like he genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.
