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I knocked it away with a snarl. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“I’m sorry, Angel—”
“I’m not yourfuckingAngel.” I spat at his feet. “I’m a Crow. Always have been. Always will be. I belong tothem.”
He stared into my eyes, reading the truth there before rising steadily to his feet. “Not as long as they’re still alive.”
Cold fear and white hot rage curled opposing fists in my chest.
“I see that now.” He threw a hand through his hair, nodding to himself. “Fine. They’ll die first. It’ll make taking back what rightfully belongs to me that much easier, anyway.”
“They’ll eat you alive.”
Drake grinned at me. “No, Angel. I don’t think they will. They won’t even see me coming.”
I clawed back to my stomach, trying and failing to drag myself to him. To stop him, cursing at the spoiled floor.
“Don’t touch them!”
Drake stepped out the door, leaving it ajar.
I clambered to my feet, off balance, my belly aching with a persistent throb, the flesh there already turning fifty shades of blue.
My hand closed on the threshold, and I stepped out into the hall for half a second before he was there again, snatching my wrist, peeling my hand from the doorframe.
I threw a weak fist into his chin, but he ignored it, sticking a fresh syringe deep into the side of my neck.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Drake said in a smooth voice, catching my body against his when my knees buckled. “There’s one other problem I have to take care of first. Yourscavengershave at least one more night to live.”
I moaned, sickness roiling in my stomach as my face fell against his chest. He ran a knuckle down my cheek, and I felt the press of his mouth against my temple before the sedative stole my sight, his next words a garbled mess of sound in my ears. “Hush, now, Angel. It’ll be over soon.”
I couldn’t seemto get his hair right. The way it sometimes fell over to the side of his forehead, casting a shadow over his brown eyes. I dipped the thin brush back into one of the brown colors I’d made especially for this purpose, and painted in the lowlights.
A sour taste in the back of my throat made me reach for the gin and lemonade on my bedside table, taking a long swallow. Cringing.
The ice melted hours ago, and it was piss warm. I knocked it back onto the table, trying to swallow away the taste.
A soft double rap on my closed door sent a shiver rolling up my spine. “Axel?”
I winced at the panic in my tone.
“Just checking. Thought I heard something.”
“I’m good,” I replied, the tension across my back starting to relax again.
“You should try to get some sleep.”
“On my way,” I lied, tapping my phone screen.
It was almost three in the morning and there was still no way I’d be able to sleep. At least not until this was finished.
“All right,” Axel said through the door. “I’m here if you need me. I’ll do your check-ins for the rest of the night.”
I rolled my eyes, but shouted a politethanksback to him before I heard him retreat back to his place on the couch and the TV turned back on to a low drone.
Grey asked me to check in every hour on the hour. He said it was to make sure I was good, but I knew it was mostly because they wanted updates on Ava Jade. If she was here. To confirm she wasn’t.
I bit the inside of my cheek, sighing at the watercolor pad in my lap and the face staring up at me from it.
