Page 104 of Swallow Your Sorries

She pales at the wordcousin.

What? Did she think I wouldn’t find out?

“Shameless.” Hale nods.

“Audacious,” Zedd says.

“Vulgar,” Étienne coos.

“Unbecoming of a first lady,” I say.

“You’re out of your mind, but I already knew that,” Elle says, her eyebrows knitting with fury. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“You.”

“You send your lunatic masked friend to give me a heart attack. To hunt me like a damn wild animal.”

“Forgive me dove. I know you only like it when I chase you.”

She ignores me, gesturing to Hale, who waves like a beauty queen. “Just for him to bring me to…” She pauses, her expression growing more freaked out by the second. “What the hell is this place?”

“My sanctuary,” I say simply. “And your fresh hell.”

“Tell him!” Sylo cries. He’s dangling like a chandelier now, the pulley squeaking in protest. “Tell him I didn’t give you that hickey.”

Elle’s big green eyes flash to me. “Is this what this is about? That stupid hickey?”

“I told you I’d find out on my own one way or another, but you just wouldn’t listen.”

The table rattles, the legs squeaking ominously as Sylo’s fingers are pried away from the edge. “Please Eloisa Ginhart!Tell him!”

Elle looks conflicted. The sympathy in her eyes as she flinches at Sylo, quickly turns into pure hatred as she focuses on me again.

She has no choice but to focus on me because I’ve blocked Sylo from view entirely. We’re almost nose to chest now.

“Please!”

“He dances so well,” Étienne says fondly as he admires the roving creature.

The spider. Not Sylo.

Elle squeezes her eyes shut and then glares up at me. “He didn’t give me the hickey.”

My heart stills its rapid pace by a fraction. I can’t withstand any sort of betrayal from Elle. Not like my father did. Especially not with my own flesh and blood.

Her admission is all the confirmation I need to stop feeling like I’m about to die all over again, though she isn’t off the hook.

I want answers.

Now.

“I’ll tell you once you let him go.”

I don’t budge and neither do any of the others.

With a roll of her eyes, Elle strolls past me, climbs up onto the table and undoes the harness around Sylo’s ankle.

He falls with too much grace, tucking and rolling until he lies out flat on his back again, heaving. But then his chest seizes, his eyes crossing at the arachnid on his chest. The furry eight-legged creature, Elle, has no problem touching as she collects the spider on her opened palm and hands it back to Éti without so much as a flinch.

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