Page 60 of Feral King

“That was different. I was a dick. I know that now. What happened with Sophia was wrong. The way I treated you was wrong. I own that.”

“How nice of you.”

“But this isn’t about Sophia or how I treated you before. This is about yourlife, Ly. Someoneshotat you. Julian’s world did that. Say what you will about me and my bullshit, but I never put you in danger.”

He’s right, but I don’t say it out loud.

“He’s pulling you in deeper, and I can’t sit by and watch that happen. Regardless of what you think of me, I can’t.”

I stare at him; my eyes narrowed just a bit. The infuriating thing is that he sounds legit, like he actually cares, like he’s doing this because he truly doesn’t want me to get hurt.

I can’t sit by and watch that happen.

He sounds so sincere, but sincere isn’t Alexander’s thing.

Alexander is a liar. He’s selfish, and he only cares about himself.

But he’s right that he never put me in danger, not like Julian has.

Still. I can’t trust him.

“Stay away from me,” I tell him, my tone softer this time.

He nods and puts his phone back into his pocket. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to change my mind.

“Okay. Just… you know how to find me. Stay safe, Ly. Please.”

With that, he walks away.

I stand there on Sixth Avenue with now-cold coffee in my hand and those photos burned into my brain. Alex planted a seed of doubt in me, and I can feel it taking root.

I take a deep breath and keep walking. The Whitmore is just two blocks away.

The photos follow me with every step.

CHAPTER 21

LYRA

Imake it until 2 p.m.

Four hours of keeping my head down and routing everything through Anya while answering Julian’s emails with clipped, professional sentences that contain zero warmth. Four hours of not looking at his office door. Four hours of not thinking about those photos of men with broken fingers and broken faces, Julian looming over them.

Then the my desk phone rings.

“My office,” Julian says. “Now.”

For a moment, I consider not going. It’d be simple…ish. I could send him a polite email, letting him know that all event updates can be rerouted through Anya, and that my schedule is fully committed for the remainder of the workday.

Or I could take it a step further. I could turn in a boilerplate resignation, leave, take the E train home, and pretend thatthe last three weeks of my life were nothing more than a strange, bad dream.

I go to his office.

My stomach tightens with each step I take down the hall. I am scared of Julian now. Genuinely scared.But I keep walking.

When I reach his door, I pause for a moment, closing my eyes and considering marching back the other way. But I don’t.

I knock lightly.