Page 109 of Heart of Thieves

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kick him as much as I do right now. “You really don’t care?”

“He can’t die.” Enzo turns his gaze back out the window. “Worst they’ll do is torture him a little.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He harrumphs.

“We have to go after him,” I say, planting my hands on my hips.

“No. We have to get some dinner—preferably something drenched in butter with soufflé for dessert—and then we need to get back to the Liar’s Den by midnight.”

“We have to save him.”

“We can save him tomorrow.” He gets to his feet, pulling his leather jacket off the back of the chair and slinging it on. “We can’t miss Nocturne’s game.”

What the depths is wrong with him?

“Ostena and Forsyth tried to kill me.” I cross my arms over my chest. If I can’t convince him to care about his brother, then at least I can get him to care about me.

“What?” He narrows his eyes. “When?”

“During the last round. Right before you and the Tentacles came to save me. They shot Nic.”

“Why? Who are they?”

“They work for my father. If they’ve captured Nic, it has something to do with me.”

Enzo’s nostrils flare as my meaning slots into place.

“And,” I add, “he knows you better than anyone in the world except for maybe me. We can’t risk what he might tell my father under duress. Besides.” I meet his glare with one of my own. “He would do the same for you.”

“How do we know this isn’t some ploy to get me away from the game? He wants to win just as much as we do.”

“You think he’d go to such great lengths?” I raise a brow. “Not everyone is as desperate as you.”

Enzo scowls, digging in his pocket. “You know he tracked me down to try to get me not to enter. Even gave me this in hopes I’d be dumb enough to let him manipulate me.” He holds out his hand.

A voratium die glows there, a swirling ebony galaxy inside.

“That’s one of his secrets,” I whisper. “Did you roll it?”

He scoffs. “What’s the point? It’s probably a lie anyway.”

“You are such a knucklehead!” I growl, snatching the die.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“If he gave you this, he was trying to tell you something.” I toss it on the bed. It rolls once, twice, three times.

Multicolor light spills out, churning into the forms of Nic leaving Enzo to guard a door as he runs into a vault toward . . .

The moonshard.

As Nic lifts the scintillating chunk of metal from its velvet bed, a shout breaks the silence. He twists, the shard slipping from his grasp. Laurel appears, lunging to catch it. It smashes when it hits her hands. Light explodes, blowing out the door, which slams Enzo to the ground, splinters of wood carving bloody welts on his skin.

Nic screams at Laurel to run, then rushes to Enzo’s side, gathering him in his arms and pelting out of the temple.

“Hang on, Enzo,” he grits out. “Hang on.”