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He doesn’t care, and he never did. He’s just damn good at faking it.
“Thanks for proving that nothing between us was real,” I spit out before I can stop myself, immediately hating that I showed him any vulnerability.
Ever, but especially now, about us.
“That’s not true,” he says, frowning at me.
“Of course it fucking is,” I scoff. “If you and I had actually mattered, you’d never have tied me up like this.”
Something flares in Dante’s eyes when I jerk my wrists against the cuffs again, making them rattle against the headboard.
His lips quirk up in a too fucking familiar smirk. “I mean, I might have,” he says, the teasing tone to his voice making my eyes sting again. “If you’d asked me nicely.”
“I hate you,” I whisper, my throat closing up.
Dante’s face turns serious, and he gets to his feet, crossing over to the bed and smoothing my hair away from my face.
I jerk away from his touch, and he sighs.
“I could say the same, you know. About what was and wasn’t real between us.” He waits a beat, then, “You shot Maddoc. You shot my brother.”
Of course that’s what he cares about.
Of course it’swhohe cares about.
A shard of hurt spears me all over again, but I grab on to it hard before it can gut me and twist it into the familiar armor of anger.
“I had a reason to,” I hiss. “All three of you have been lying to me this whole time. You fuckers made me believe in you. You betrayed me.”
Dante doesn’t deny it. His eyes shutter, his normally expressive face closing down.
Closing me out.
“What do you want with my sister?” I demand, choking back the other questions burning in my throat before they can come out.
No way am I asking him how long they’ve been planning whatever it is they want Chloe for. I don’t think I can stand to hear about it if it was all lies from the start, or to find out whether any of those moments of connection between us were actually real.
Not the sex, but all the rest. The shit that made it feel like something more.
“Shooting Madd was a mistake,” Dante says after a minute, not bothering to tell me what I want to know.
Not about Chloe, at least. But not answering me pretty much is an answer, when it comes to all the things I didn’t ask.
“You just made shit a lot harder for yourself,” he goes on. “You know that, right?”
I glare up at him. “You fucking Reapers are the ones making shit hard for me.”
Dante’s lips tighten, then he blows out a harsh breath. “Jesus, princess. You wanna know how many people have pulled a gun on Maddoc and survived to tell about it? Because it’s not a hell of a lot, and the ones who actually pulled the trigger are all six feet under now.”
Dante isn’t threatening me, he’s just stating facts.
Maddoc’s fucking ruthless. I knew that going in.
“Is that why you’re here?” I ask, tilting my chin up to hide the fear that washes through me. “Did he send you to do his dirty work and kill me?”
Dante stares down at me with such intensity that it feels like a physical force.
“I’m Maddoc’s second,” he says, leaning over me and bracing his hands on either side of my body.
