Page 71 of The Devil's Waltz

Harper slides off the bed and slips out of the room.

A minute later, my mom walks in and closes the door behind her. She’s dressed in all black and her auburn hair is in a slick bun. So, she either came directly from training or a mission. She approaches with an expression that brings the tears back to my eyes. The softness in her typically cool blue gaze isn’t a common occurrence.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, messing with the sheets for something to do with my hands.

She perches on the side of the bed, placing her hand over mine. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Camille.”

I hold my breath, waiting for her to dive into the recruitment speech she must have memorized by now, but she doesn’t, so I nod silently.

“I spoke to your father on my way here,” she says.

“Harper told me.”

Mom nods, looking away when her breath hitches. She sniffles, and I struggle to keep the shock off my face when I see the tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had—” She stops herself, shaking her head as she squeezes my hand. “I understand you don’t want to be surrounded by hunters, and I want to respect your wishes, but I refuse to allow what happened to your friends happen to you. You can be angry with me if you need to, but I have assigned a team of huntersfor your protection. They will guard your apartment even when Harper is home. At least two of them will accompany you to class and wherever else you need to go.”

I blink at her, and the familiar sensation of struggling to breathe starts to creep in. “A team, Mom?” The thought of having my every move tracked, of having a shadow everywhere I go, threatens to break the levee on my barely-contained anxiety.

“Until this fight is over, one isn’t enough. Especially when the queen thinks she can use you against us.”

“But—”

“I’m not going to let you get hurt again, Camille.” She blinks quickly, her eyes glassy as she holds my gaze. Her grip on my hand is growing uncomfortably tight, but I don’t try to pull away. “I won’t lose another child to those monsters. Ican’t.”

My throat clogs with emotion, and all I can do is nod, resigning myself to the reality that this is how things have to be, at least for now.

She sniffles, wiping her nose with her other hand before clearing her throat. “What do you think about going to New York for a while?”

I curl my fingers around hers and squeeze her hand. “Yeah, I…want to go.”

She doesn’t attempt to mask her surprise. “Really? I thought for sure I’d have to argue with you about it.”

My gaze drops to my lap, and I lick the dryness from my lips. “No. I need to get out of here.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” she asks.

I shake my head without looking at her.

She leans in and kisses the side of my head. “Pack a bag, and I’ll get you on the next flight.”

My dad is waiting at arrivals when I land at JFK. He pulls me into a hug the moment we meet, and I wrap my arms around him, clinging to him as if he’ll be able to keep me together. We don’t talk on the drive to his condo on the Upper West Side. I stare out the windshield at the cars and brownstones, while he taps his fingers against the steering wheel to the soft rock song on the radio.

After passing through a security checkpoint, Dad pulls into the underground garage and turns the car off.

“Those guards,” I say, “they’re hunters, aren’t they?”

He nods. “I have a team that keeps an eye on things around here. The job your mother and I have has always been dangerous, but we’re in new territory now. These precautions are necessary to protect everyone.”

“So they’re here to keep you safe?”

“Exactly. There are also guards stationed who look to any human like normal building security guards. I also have a guard outside my suite for the duration of your visit.”

My brows lift at the same moment my stomach sinks. “Is that really necessary?”

“If you think he isn’t keeping tabs on you, you need to be more realistic, kiddo.”

“That’s not—” I stop myself as we get into the elevator, because things with Xander is the last topic of conversation I want right now. “Never mind.”

We step off the elevator into the entryway, and sure enough, there’s a guy who looks a few years older than me. He’s dressed in all black, standing against the wall next to the front door.

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