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“Quite the interesting bit of information concerning the device that the spool of wire detonated.”
Prince’s lips curl darkly.
“You know, Noel,” he snarls. “Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m impressed or terrified of your sociopathic ability to completely disengage yourself from the past and reality.”
“Now, what do you suppose the odds are of CleanWipe—”
“You tell me!” He roars as he takes a step towards me.
“First Matilde! Then Cassandra! And now—”
I snarl as I storm to meet him, grabbing his collar in my fist, just as he grabs my jacket.
“I think it’sfarpast time you acknowledge theoneother common denominator between Matilde and Thomas’s wife,” I hiss into his face. “You.”
Oliver balks, staring at me as he shakes his head.
“You’re bloody deranged—”
“Tell me, Prince,” I snarl. “Was Jacob even aware of the bomb? Or were you prepared to—”
“He’s myson,Noel!”
His roar is deafening, bringing nurses, doctors, and aides running around the corner to stare at the two demigods, locked in battle.
Oliver’s face is livid and red, his eyes blazing as they lock with mine.
“And she’s mywife, Oliver,” I rasp.
He snorts.
“You’re disgusting, Ransom. Absolutely fucking shameless—”
“Says the man who had to resort to fucking my wife on the sly because she picked me over him. The man who patheticallypinedaway for our best friend’s wife, only to watchmepick up the pieces when they fell apart.”
He bristles, nostrils flaring as his eyes spark lethally.
“Tell me, Oliver,” I snarl. I’m being an asshole. Iknowhis son is lying in that hospital room burned and wounded.
But like I said, I’m fuckingtiredof wondering “what the odds are.”
There’s no odds here. Just the one man who I know is both motivated and capable of doing what happened to Matilde and Cassandra. And I’m pushing him because I want him to snap.
“How does it feel, Oliver?” I smile thinly. “Toalwayscome in second behind me?”
He slowly shakes his head.
“Matilde?” I grunt. “Couldn’t stand that she married me, could you? And Cassandra? Where you were hanging on the sidelines like a little puppy, just waiting for Thomas to die so you could swoop in.”
His jaw sets dangerously.
My lips curl. “Oops.”
“You son of a—”
“And now…” my brows knit. “Christ, Oliver, is that what this is?” I sneer. “Had your eyes on Ella for a bit longer than you care to admit—”
“Haveyou?!”
