Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(54)

My heart pounded in my chest.

“I’m sorry, Evie,” Clay murmured.

“For what?”

“For being me. If I wasn’t who I am, we could have probably strolled out of here without earning a second glance. Even now, there are people downstairs who are probably wondering where I am. I won’t have too much longer before my absence will draw attention. And yet despite all of that, there’s no way I can let you walk out of here alone. What if someone realizes the truth and I’m not there to stop them? I can’t lose you again, not if there’s anything I can do to keep you safe.”

The reality that we were surrounded on all sides by Rain operatives set flames in my blood. My pulse pounded, and I grabbed at my hair, pulling it back up into a ponytail. I needed something familiar to help me keep hold of my sanity.

“I think I have a something for that,” Clay said softly.

He reached into his bag again and pulled out a long blonde wig and a small container that must contain contacts. I hadn’t worn either in a long time, not since I’d lost everything in the fire that took Dad’s life. After helping me to properly situate the hairpiece into place, and watching me pop the contact in, Clay surveyed his handiwork.

His nose wrinkled. “It’ll definitely work to help get us out of here.”

“But?” I asked, worried because of the scowl on his face.

“But I prefer how you looked a moment ago.”

Scrunching up his shopping bags before throwing them into the trashcan beneath the desk, he surveyed the room one more time before looking back to me. I ran my hands over the dress to smooth it out, wishing I could settle my own nerves as easily.

“You ready to go?” he asked quietly.

I nodded.

“Perfect.” Offering me his hand, his lips turned up in a grin. “Let’s go then.”





CLAY WRAPPED his arm around my waist and directed me through the gathering crowd. His fingers pressed the red, silky material against my side, igniting a mild burning for more. Despite the barrier between my hips and his fingertips, I squirmed at the almost intimate touch.

“Relax,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t do anything to draw attention to the fact that we shouldn’t be here.”

“Play it cool?” I elbowed his side. “I’ve got it. Now, can we get out of here, please?”

“Definitely.”

The main doors were in sight when suddenly Clay clutched my hip and twisted us so that we were heading into the throng of the party, into the room marked “Tavern on the Green,” where the majority of people were heading.

“What are we doing?” I whispered under my breath.

He stopped suddenly and grabbed my arm, before turning on the spot to face me. His abrupt halt and about-face concerned me.

“Do you trust me to get you out of here safely?” he asked in a rushed whisper.

I worried what might have caused the sudden change in his demeanor. His face was ashen, and he stared at a point directly ahead of him with horror-struck eyes.

“Of course,” I said. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Just as I was about to follow his gaze, his eyes snapped back to mine.

“Don’t turn around and don’t ask any questions. Just walk to the bar now and order a drink. Wait for my signal.”

Looking at the bar behind him, I saw two large mirrors that ran behind the bartenders and revealed the room to me. That must have been his plan, for me to watch him in the mirrors.

“What’s the signal?” It was all so familiar. Achingly so. My heart raced as doubt crept in. Was it his way of leaving me again? The thought sent bile into my mouth, and my need to vomit grew.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” His eyes held mine for a brief moment, and I saw no doubt, only resolve. It was enough for me to put my complete faith in him. He would get us out of here—both of us.

His arms dropped away from my side, and then he sidestepped me without another glance, but with fear on his features. Although I wanted to know what had caused his panic, I’d just finished telling him that I trusted him. If he didn’t want me to stay by his side, there must have been a good reason. With great difficulty, I followed his instructions and walked away despite my raging curiosity. He spun in place to follow my path as I walked by. I met his eyes in the bar mirror, and he gave a nod so understand it was almost imperceptible.

With my eyes still locked on the mirror as I approached the bar, the reason for his stress became evident. My steps faltered as Clay’s sister, dressed in a short pink cocktail dress, approached him from behind. Her mouth barely moved as she spoke to him, but her eyes never stilled—flicking from person to person without stop. The weight of her stare was palpable as it passed the place where I stood. I dropped my eyes away from the mirror as she assessed my back. When I dared to raise my gaze back up to the mirrors ahead of me, she had moved on. I straightened my shoulders and back, lengthening my neck, and stepped up to the almost-empty bar.

One of the bartenders was in front of me almost as soon as I slid onto a barstool. He asked me for my order with a smile that I was certain worked for him more often than not. I smiled politely back, but my eyes were trained on the reflection behind him.

“What’ve you got?”

He rattled off a few different cocktails, but I had no idea what any of them were. I ordered the one that sounded the least suggestive as I focused on Clay and Louise in the mirrors.