Our Dark Duet (Monsters of Verity #2)(47)

Which was the only reason he saw it.

She tipped her head back, and the blond hair tumbled out of her eyes and for an instant, they met the camera, and there was a single flare, like light reflected back, a streak obscuring her face. The lens couldn’t seem to focus. It blurred, steadied, blurred again—the way it did with monsters.

It could have been a glitch, he told himself. An instant later her head was back down, the flare gone. It could have been a glitch— But Ilsa had seen it, too. Her breath caught, a small but audible sound, and her fingers splayed across the table, her pale gaze darting toward him. Henry’s back was still turned, and they stared at each other in silence, each wondering what the other would do.

It gets into people’s heads, Kate had said.

I’ve seen what it can do.

August wasn’t sure what he’d just seen, or what it meant, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone else noticed it, too, and when they did— You owe her nothing, chided Leo.

She is a sinner, echoed Soro.

What will you do, brother? said Ilsa with a look.

“Henry,” he said, turning his back to the screen. The head of the FTF was talking rapidly into a comm. He raised a hand and August held his breath, forcing himself to wait patiently, as if nothing was wrong.

At last, Henry lowered the comm. “What is it?”

This is wrong. Something’s wrong. Everything’s wrong.

“Kate isn’t our enemy,” he said, “but you’re treating her like one. If you leave her in there with Soro, she’ll tell us the truth, but nothing more. She’ll give you only what she has to, and it probably won’t be enough.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Let me talk to her. No cuffs. No cameras.”

Henry was already shaking his head. “August—”

“She saved my life.”

“And you spared hers. I’m sorry to tell you that good deeds don’t prevent bad ones, and until we know exactly—”

“If Kate Harker poses a threat to any of our soldiers, to any of our missions, I will reap her soul myself.”

August was surprised to hear himself say it. Apparently, so was Henry. His eyes widened, but he didn’t look comforted by the truth in the words.

“Please,” added August. “I’m the only one here she’ll trust.”

Henry looked at the screen, where Kate had her fists clenched on the table and her head up in a posture of defiance. August could feel himself striking the same pose.

But it was Ilsa who decided it. She rose up onto her toes and wrapped her arms around August’s chest, resting her chin on his shoulder. He couldn’t see the look she gave Henry, the silent message that passed between them, but a moment later, Henry told Soro to terminate the interview.





The girl staggered down the hallway, barefoot and bleeding.

Her wrists were bound in front of her and she fought with the rope as she stumbled toward the elevator. Sloan let her get there before he caught up. Fear—delicious, defiant fear—dusted the air like sugar as he pinned her to the wall beside the stainless-steel doors and wrenched her head back.

“Katherine,” he whispered, teeth skimming the pulse at her throat and— The elevator doors chimed and slid open.

Sloan hesitated, fangs poised against the girl’s skin. The tower’s penthouse was invitation-only. It belonged to Sloan, and Sloan alone—the engineers chained to the table and the hateful little thing perched on his kitchen counter were there because he allowed it. No one came here without being summoned.

Which was why he bristled at the sight of the Malchai hurrying forward into his home. His red eyes were wide with panic, blood speckled his face, and gore leaked down one arm. At the sight of Sloan and the human girl trembling against the wall, the Malchai lurched to a stop, but didn’t retreat.

“This had better be important,” snarled Sloan.

“Apologies, sir, but it is.”

“Speak.”

The Malchai hesitated, and in Sloan’s moment of distraction, the girl almost slipped free.

Almost.

“Hold on,” he muttered, pulling her back and sinking his fangs into her throat. Blood spilled over his tongue and he could feel the other Malchai’s nerves, feel his hunger, too, and just for that, he took his time, drinking every drop.

When he was done, Sloan let the body slide to the floor and drew a fresh black square from his pocket. He wiped his mouth and started into the main room, hooking one finger for the Malchai to follow. “You’ve intruded on my hospitality and interrupted my meal. This better be worth it.”

The engineers’ eyes were trained on their work, as if they hadn’t heard the girl’s screams. But the color was high in the woman’s face, while the man had gone pale. Alice meanwhile was sitting on the counter, skimming a chemistry book.

“Forgive me,” said the Malchai. “I thought you would want to know”—he glanced at Alice—“in private.”

Alice waved her fingers. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said cheerfully. “Sloan and I are family.”

Sloan’s teeth clicked together. “Yes. Go on.”

The Malchai bowed his head. “More Fangs are dead.”

Sloan shot Alice a look. “This is the third time in two nights.”