Page 170 of Barinov

So go home, Lexie. You’ve lost the flame.”

The water at our feet begins to burn at a rapid boil that singes my skin. I see the blue snap of electricity arching through the puddles and climbing up her legs like glowing snakes.

“Bella!” Cade screams. He reaches for her, but his own collar lets out a high-pitched and frantic beep. His gaze snaps to me, eyes blown wide with betrayal. “Lex, what did you do?!”

“I-I didn’t!” I cry, shaking so hard I can barely stand. The red on the glass is back. Thick sheets of blood washing away the steam.

I reach down to grab Bella to pull her out of the current, but she swats me away.

“Get away from me!” she shrieks. “This is your fault!”

“Malyshka, no, please—”

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Cade lunges, his hands hitting my chest with a force that shouldn’t be human.

I’m thrown backward, soaring through the air until I hit the shower door. The glass shatters into a billion tiny shards, each one reflecting Luca’s emerald eyes.

“You played the game, lost the piece. Now the board belongs to—”

I jolt awake, gasping for air. My skin is slick with sweat. My heart is beating out of my fucking chest. And for a second, I can still taste the metal of those damn collars in my mouth.

I reach for my phone. The screen burns my eyes.

2:22 in the morning.

“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing the sweat from my eyes.

“Lex?” Cade whispers, pushing up on his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say, my voice tight. “It’s nothing just… just go back to sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just thirsty,” I force out the lie. “I’m gonna go get a drink. I’ll be right back.”

He yawns, stretching his back. “Don’t be long.”

“I won’t.” I lean over and press a kiss to his forehead before stepping out of the room.

The cold marble tile stings my bare feet as I step into the kitchen. I flick on the light and see a flash of black silk as someone flinches.

“Shit,” I bark, damn near pissing my pants. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was down here.”

Luciana recovers fast. She’s leaning against the bar, a messy bun piled on her head and a steaming mug between her palms.

“It’s alright,” she says, offering a gentle smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you either.”

“I was just…” I rub the back of my neck, feeling like an idiot. “Hell, I don’t even know.”

“You want some tea?” she asks, already reaching for another mug.

I hesitate and then step up to the counter. “Sure.”

She slides the ceramic toward me. The heat against my hands soothes my nerves.

“Sit,” she whispers. “You look like you need to talk.”

“I’m fine.”