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“Samuel,” he says exasperatedly. “Short little dude with my face. Kind of hard to miss?”

“Sammy,” I say dryly. “At least you canpretendto care about him.”

It’s a low blow that lands with more force than my punch. He grunts, his shoulders slumping as a curious expression crosses his face. Maybe it’s guilt. His eyes lower to his hands, which look even more bruised in the overcast daylight filtering through the window.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grits his teeth and then refocuses his attention on me, his eyes narrowing. “Where the fuck is he—”

“He’s at school,” I admit. Even I’m not heartless enough to string him on any longer. “Didn’t Ben let you know where we were?”

“I didn’t have my phone on me.” Suddenly Daze deflates and collapses onto the couch, facing me. His legs tremble, betraying just how exhausted he must be. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough—”

“Your head...” My eyes widen at the sight. A long, jagged gash slices across his forehead, dripping fresh blood down his jaw. “What happened to you?”

“Well, Frey,” he eyes me up and down as much as he can without lifting his head from the back of the couch and shrugs. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”

“I want the version where you tell me the truth,” I say. “You knew Hale, and you lied to me. You knew my schedule. Where I volunteer. What times. Were you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he tosses back. “We’ll work back from last night’s timeline before jumping to any other topics. What happened to me? Theshortversion is someone tried to take my head off with a knife—”

“You’re lying,” I blurt. Nothing in the world should be able to take my focus off Hale—but for a second, he has.

“Alright, you got me.” His pained half-smile takes my breath away. “It was more of a machete than a knife.”

“Stop playing around!” A series of frustrated steps has me pacing in circles, but nothing loosens the ball of nerves tightening in my chest. He’s the only person in the world who affects me like this. I’m no longer numb—just assaulted by senseless, irritatingfeelings. Pain. Confusion. Fear.

I can’t stand it!

“Do you think this is all some kind of game?”

“If so, it has pretty shitty odds,” Daze admits. “But fine. You want to know what happened? I’ll put it in terms a good, church girl like you might understand. About three months ago, I all but sold my soul to keep one of the few people I care about safe. Only, the person I made the deal with? It seems like he isn’t happy with my eternal damnation. He keeps fucking with me. Doing little things to piss me off and give him reasons to renege on our agreement.”

“Are you saying someone had you beat up?” I add, trying to keep up with his vague metaphors.

“Maybe,” he admits. “Though, to be fair, if you think I look bad, you should see the other guy.”

“Why would they do that? Hurt you?”

Suddenly, his eyes take on a hard, stern gleam. “Let me ask you something. That outreach program of yours. Have you ever done more than just serve smiles and free food? Do you talk to anyone from there? Really talk? See what happens to them after your family bestows their precious charity?”

I flinch, stung by the vitriol in his tone. “You know what, keep your secrets.”

“I wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t important.”

“Important,” I parrot, mulling over the word. “Important like making sure youdon’tleave a defenseless four-year-old with a complete stranger?”

“Trust me,” he bites out in between more terse grunts. I think he’s trying to stand up. When I turn, he has one hand braced against the couch’s armrest while clutching his forehead with the other. “That kid is hardwired to call Lyra if so much as a hair falls out of place...but hedidn’t.” His voice deepens as he seems to realize that fact for the first time. Gradually, a frown shapes his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to—”

“And what else was I supposed to do, huh?” I level him with a glare that I hope comes across fittingly harsh. “Leave him alone?”

“Ben would look out for him. But you have a point.” Wincing, he leans back against the couch cushions, seemingly overwhelmed, only to groan in pain and bolt upright, rubbing the side of his skull. “Fucking hell.”

“You...you’re making a mess.” My nostrils wrinkle, hating the stench of blood flooding them. “I…”

I barely get the word out as a rush of dizziness leaves me swaying. Watching him conjures up those dark memories again. Images of death I’ve spent months drowning in a haze. Go figure. The only reason I came here in the first place was to forget, but everything about him just compels me to remember.

“Here—” I turn to the sink and snatch the first object I find. When I approach Daze, he shakes his head, eyeing the dishrag I’m holding with a frown.

“Don’t even think about it. I doubt that’s very sanitary—hey!”

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