Page 41 of A Lady’s Guide to Witchcraft

“You’ve got the wrong sister.”

The right sister was upstairs, unconscious in her bed.

“And anything they have belongs to me, Twyla. Cut your losses and I might let you leave with both your arms.”

“You won’t kill her if she still knows something.”

Ethan’s retort was flat, chilling. “You know me well enough to know that I’ll kill her before I let any of her secrets go to you or another fucking Crow.”

Twyla paused. She clearly believed him.

Ethan turned his head, dragging his mouth along Briar’s temple and into her hair. She shivered. “And this one especially is mine. She tastes like mint leaves.”

Somehow he made it sound like a threat.

While their magic seared the air, spiky with the scents of salt and fennel seeds, vibrating with the snarls of the Black Shuck, Petal was vulnerable. Hiding her in plain sight was a fine idea when Keepers were watching and there had been no other options, but now?

Nowhere near good enough.

“I’m Pet—” Briar’s declaration was cut short when Ethan tightened his grip.

The dagger nicked at her. Her feet left the ground entirely as he hauled her up against his chest. “Quiet,” he ordered her, dark and menacing as the flash of a sea serpent under the waves. There was nothing of Mr. Swansea about him. Nor even Ethan. He was the Dragon, through and through. She could only gasp.

And then Twyla let go of the iron chain.