Page 124 of Fallen Court

I ignored him and turned to her. “Thanks for stopping by. Don’t mind him. He forgets his manners.”

I could have sworn I felt Lach tense behind me.

Willow looked between the two of us nervously.

“Thanks for trying to help, Cate,” she said, giving me a quick hug. “I’ll keep digging for answers.”

“Let me know if you find any,” I muttered. “But be careful.”

“Don’t worry. Something’s always happening in New Orleans.” She lowered her voice to add, “This will blow over.”

As she stepped back, her eyes skipped to Lach, and with a mischievous grin, she stuck her tongue out at him while his attention was diverted. It was a playful act, so typical of Willow, but it made the contrast between the two of them even starker. She’d called him my dark one for a reason. A chill skittered down my spine as Willow waved and vanished into the waking streets.

Lach glared after her. I turned on my heel, striding back toward the Avalon. He caught up with me with a speed that betrayed his true nature, despite the human glamour he still wore. We kept our distance as we stormed toward the elevator in step with each other.

“Was that really necessary?” I demanded the moment the doors slid closed behind us. “She was just trying to help.”

Lach’s face might as well have been carved from stone. “I know. We agreed on that,” he said curtly, each word clipped. “But why did you call Sirius? What did you tell him?”

His question caught me off guard, and I faltered. “How do you even know about that?”

He pulled out his phone, waving it in the air. “My sister called me. Now answer the question. Did you tell him about the ring?”

Silence hung heavily between us. I could feel the answer sticking in my throat, the truth too dangerous to voice. But before I could muster a response, Lach exploded, his anger filling the space around us.

“What were you thinking, Cate?” he thundered.

“Sirius is my friend,” I shot back, my own temper flaring. “I trust him. He’s helped us before, Lach.”

“That was then. We can’t trust anyone now.”

“Anyone, huh?” My tone was bitter from the hurt festering inside me. “You mean you can’t trust anyone. Not even me, apparently.”

His jaw tightened, and I knew he was holding back. Tension thickened the air between us as if we both knew that every word spoken might create another fracture in our relationship.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying, but unshed tears stung my eyes as the silence stretched into a wide chasm that seemed to separate us further with each passing second. But beneath his mask of fury, I could see the fracture lines of a fear that I shared.

My hands trembled at my sides, clenched into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. His words echoed in my head in a relentless rhythm: We can’t trust anyone now. Each one felt like a slap.

Something within me shifted, my determination slipping out of place like a tectonic plate. Somehow, I knew that nothing would ever be the same. That our foundation had fundamentally altered. My gaze locked with his, and the world narrowed to the restrictive confines of the compartment.

The elevator reached our floor, and we stepped out of it. I waited for him to speak, to offer some defense, some plea that would bridge the gap between us. But he remained silent, and so did I, each of us lost to hurt and frustration.

And I’d had enough. “The worst part is that I shouldn’t have to defend my actions to you.”

Turning, I jammed the down button. The doors reopened, and I stepped through without a backward glance.

“Where are you going?” he asked, a note of panic cracking through his anger.

I didn’t answer, wouldn’t answer. Instead, I pushed the button for the lobby. I half expected him to follow me inside, to try to stop me from leaving, to say something.

He didn’t.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Lach

No lights were on inside The Fontaine when I pulled up to the unattended valet stand, hours before the start of dinner service. I already knew why Baptiste had summoned me to the French Quarter—the covens’ furor over the murders hadn’t cooled in the least. Despite half a dozen meetings over the last week, I was no closer to calming them down. Ciara blamed me. Cate had gone back to sleeping in her own bedroom. Shaw was keeping his distance. The only person still speaking to me was Roark, but even he had given up reassuring me.