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Hunt couldn’t argue with that. So he said nothing.
Ruhn nodded toward where the females stood motionless in the middle of a sea of dancers. “She used to dance, you know. If she’d been able, she would have gone into the ballet like Juniper.”
He hadn’t known—not really. Those facts had been blips on her file. “Why’d she drop it?”
“You’ll have to ask her. But she stopped dancing completely after Danika died.”
“And drinking, it seems.” Hunt glanced toward her discarded glass of water.
Ruhn followed his line of sight. If he was surprised, the prince didn’t let on.
Hunt took a sip of Bryce’s water and shook his head. Not a party girl at all—just content to let the world believe the worst of her.
Including him. Hunt rolled his shoulders, wings moving with him, as he watched her on the dance floor. Yeah, he’d fucked up. Royally.
Bryce looked toward the booth and when she saw her cousin there … There were trenches of Hel warmer than the look she gave Ruhn.
Juniper tracked her gaze.
Bryce took all of one step toward the booth before the club exploded.
26
One minute, Athalar and Ruhn were talking. One minute, Bryce was about to go rip into both of them for their alphahole protectiveness, smothering her even from afar. One minute, she was just trying not to drown in the weight that had yanked her under that too-familiar black surface. No amount of running could free her from it, buy her a sip of air.
The next, her ears hollowed out, the ground ripped from beneath her, the ceiling rained down, people screamed, blood sprayed, fear scented the air, and she was twisting, lunging for Juniper—
Shrill, incessant ringing filled her head.
The world had been tipped on its side.
Or maybe that was because she lay sprawled on the wrecked floor, debris and shrapnel and body parts around her.
But Bryce kept down, stayed arched over Juniper, who might have been screaming—
That shrill ringing wouldn’t stop. It drowned out every other sound. Coppery slickness in her mouth—blood. Plaster coated her skin.
“Get up.” Hunt’s voice cut through the ringing, the screaming, the shrieking, and his strong hands wrapped around her shoulders. She thrashed against him, reaching for Juniper—
But Ruhn was already there, blood running from his temple as he helped her friend stand—
Bryce looked over every inch of Juniper: plaster and dust and someone else’s green blood, but not a scratch, not a scratch, not a scratch—
Bryce swayed back into Hunt, who gripped her shoulders. “We need to get out—now,” the angel was saying to Ruhn, ordering her brother like a foot soldier. “There could be more.”
Juniper pushed out of Ruhn’s grip and screamed at Bryce, “Are you out of your mind?”
Her ears—her ears wouldn’t stop ringing, and maybe her brain was leaking because she couldn’t talk, couldn’t seem to remember how to use her limbs—
Juniper swung. Bryce didn’t feel the impact on her cheek. Juniper sobbed as if her body would break apart. “I made the Drop, Bryce! Two years ago! You haven’t! Have you completely lost it?”
A warm, strong arm slid across her abdomen, holding her upright. Hunt said, his mouth near her ear, “Juniper, she’s shell-shocked. Give it a rest.”
Juniper snapped at him, “Stay out of this!” But people were wailing, screaming, and debris was still raining down. Pillars lay like fallen trees around them. June seemed to notice, to realize—
Her body, gods, her body wouldn’t work—
Hunt didn’t object when Ruhn gave them an address nearby and told them to go wait for him there. It was closer than her apartment, but frankly, Hunt wasn’t entirely sure Bryce would let him in—and if she went into shock and he couldn’t get past those enchantments … Well, Micah would spike his head to the front gates of the Comitium if she died on his watch.
