Cold Burn of Magic(54)

Felix looked at Devon, and I realized he was the ringleader of this little party.

For a moment, Devon looked as guilty as Felix did before the emotion melted into stubborn determination. “Because I wanted to. You know everything there is to know about me and Felix. Well, we wanted to know more about you. I wanted to know more about you.”

“Why?” I sniped. “Grant’s reports weren’t enough?”

His mouth tightened.

More anger sizzled through me. I was the one who broke into people’s homes. I was the one who rifled through their most prized possessions. I was the one who saw the dirty little secrets they wanted to keep hidden in the bottom of their hearts.

I didn’t like it now that it had happened to me.

I threw my hands out wide. “Well, then, take a good long look around,” I sniped. “Because this is the life of Lila Merriweather. And ain’t it grand?”

Neither one of them said anything. We could all hear the bitterness in my voice.

But Felix, being Felix, couldn’t be quiet for long. “So what were you doing down here?”

“Packing up the rest of my stuff,” I said, my tone tight and clipped.

“How long have you been living down here?” Devon asked. “Since your mom died?”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t even look at him.

He sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Lila. I just wanted to see where you lived. What it was like. What you were really like.”

Once again, his green gaze swept over the small cot, the empty metal rack, the worn-out suitcases that I was still hoping to stuff a few more ragged things into. He saw everything—he saw too damn much.

“It’s . . . smaller than I thought it would be,” he said in a kind voice.

“Well, I think that it’s, uh, cozy,” Felix chimed in, snapping his fingers. “Yes! Cozy is definitely the word for it.”

He smiled at me, but I stared at Devon, watching the play of emotions across his face.

“Cozy? I think you mean craptastic. We don’t all get to live in mansions,” I snapped.

“I know that,” Devon snapped back, realizing I was really talking to him. “I just . . .”

“You just what?”

“I’m just . . . sorry for you,” he said. “That you had to live like this. That you didn’t have anyone to look out for you. That you didn’t have anyone to take care of you.”

White-hot rage roared through me. If there was one thing I didn’t want, it was his pity. Sometimes, I thought pity was the most heartless thing in the world. All it did was make people feel superior to you, happy, safe, and smug in the knowledge that someone had it worse than they did.

Yeah, my life hadn’t exactly been great since my mom had died. Okay, okay, so it had sucked out loud, but I’d managed. I’d survived in my own way on my own terms. I’d certainly done better than Devon, Felix, or anyone else in the whole stupid Sinclair Family would have.

But here Devon was all the same, giving me a pitying look, like I was an unwanted puppy someone had kicked to the curb. Like I was the saddest thing ever.

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” I snarled. “It’s not much, but at least I earned it. What have you ever done but live the perfect little life?”

“I’m sorry,” Devon repeated. “I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Of course not,” I cut him off. “Because you’re a good guy, a good soldier, a good son, and you never upset anyone, right? Grant was right about you. Everyone loves you, and you have everything so damn easy, don’t you? What have you ever had to work for in your entire life? I’m guessing the answer is nothing.”

By this point, his face had gone as hard as the brick walls around us. “Oh, I get it,” Devon said, his voice even colder than mine. “I’m just some spoiled Family brat, so I couldn’t possibly have any problems, could I? Well, it’s not easy living my life, either. Especially not now.”

“You mean when someone’s trying to kill you?”

Devon opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but he clamped his lips shut, glaring at me. I gave him an evil look in return.

Felix stepped in between us, his hands held out wide. “Ding, ding, ding. Separate corners, please. This round is finished. Why don’t we start over? Devon and I are sorry we followed you, Lila. We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why do I hear a but in there?”

Felix grinned. “But now that we’re here, we might as well help you pack. It’s the least we can do, right, Devon?”

He didn’t respond, so Felix rolled his eyes and elbowed him in the side.

“Right?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Devon finally muttered.

“Lila?” Felix asked.

“Fine. Whatever.”

His grin widened. “See? It’s not so hard to play nice now, is it? So where do you want us to start?”

I didn’t really want their help, but I still had stuff to pack, and since they were here, I might as well use them, like Felix had said. So I told them what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to hide, and the three of us got to work.

Felix picked up and folded the clothes he’d knocked to the floor when he’d fallen onto the cot, while Devon moved my mini-fridge, lamp, and metal rack into the back corner of the basement. He also stood the cot up along the wall and stacked cardboard boxes full of books in front of everything, while I tried to creatively fit the rest of my belongings into the two suitcases.