Page 92 of Princess Claimed

“I love you,” Blade says.

“I love you too,” Flame replies. But I’m not sure whether they’re talking to me or to each other.

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Phil

Crusher was right about one thing: I needed to move.

My feet pound the asphalt, and smoke rises from the soles of my shoes as I dodge between cars on the I-95, moving so quickly some poor sucker might get blamed for my speed if I get hit by a cop’s radar gun.

My body aches but, purposefully stomping, I continue to punish it with each pounding step. Over and over the bones in my feet and shins crack and mend. I deserve the pain. Besides, no physical discomfort could ever match the even worse pain invading my chest.

I thought I was doing the right thing by staying back. Doing the thing that would protect her. But instead of feeling noble or proud, instead of feeling happy to make the sacrifice, it’s like I’ve been turned inside out. Blown to pieces and my demolished parts dumped in acid.

What if I never see her again?

I can’t think like that. I need to believe. I need to hold it together, so I have a chance to kill the demon properly this time. I must ignore my pain and hold it together for Ana.

She’s safe on the plane, and it will be hours before we get any news. Everyone else is hoping Blade will discover that the risk has passed, that the demon died with Rasputin’s body, but I hope the thing’s still alive. What I want to hear from Blade is the best way to kill it. Kill it while causing it maximum pain, the kind of pain it delivered to Ana.

In front of DEFTA’s headquarters, I pull to a stop, my body screaming as my self-inflicted running injuries heal.

“Holy fuck, Phil.” Crusher arrives and bends beside me, clearly feeling some pain of his own.

Guilt flashes through me. “Sorry.” I shake my head. “I needed?—”

“I get it.” Crusher straightens and shoots me a look that twists my guts in a whole new way. Crusher has known me longer than anyone else, but still I’m shocked at how clearly he sees me right now. Or am I’m reading things into his expression?

Doesn’t matter. I’m beyond grateful for my brother. Grateful he’s here with me. Grateful he knows how badly I miss her already.

“Does Diederik know we’re coming?” I ask Crusher.

Shaking his head, he drapes his arm over my shoulder and pulls me to the side of the building, out of the way of the main doors. It’s evening, and many DEFTA syndicate members are showing up for work.

“I want to talk to Elsbeth first,” he says.

“Elsbeth?” Anger detonates inside me, but I keep it contained. Does Crusher have a relationship with some female named Elsbeth? He may not love Ana in the same way I do, but I know how she feels about him. If Crusher hurts Ana’s heart, I’ll rip his out.

“What’s your damage?” Crusher points toward my fists.

I unfurl them. “Who the fuck is Elsbeth?”

“My contact at DEFTA. Remember? She gave me the time and place to find Mariano. She works for Diederik but likes him about as much as most people do.” One side of Crusher’s mouth quirks up.

“She fucking hates him.”

“Yup.”

I nod. “Good idea.” This is a good idea. Another reason to be grateful for Crusher. We’re on the opposite side of the law from this Diederik guy, and I trust him less than a bomb with crossed wires.

“I’ll text her.” Pulling out his phone, Crusher moves to the side of the building, and I follow behind him as he sends the text.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

I nod. “Bones heal.”

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