Page 45 of Thorns from the Fall

Fuck her, god dammit.

Fuck her for thinking of him with kindness after he helped kill her parents.

And fuck Sasha and Hale for going along with it. Why none of them hadn’t just killed my brother is beyond me, and the fact they treated him well rubs me fucking raw.

Which I reprimand myself for, because of course I’m glad he’s alive and healthy, all things considered. Reconciling Gwyn’s kindness with her objective brutality might be the hardest part of all of this.

“Okay, so I picked up three pairs of jeans, a few shirts, a coat, and I figured you didn’t have your lucky Cubs hat anymore,” Margot’s voice sings from my back door. “Also, I have ageniusidea, Roman.”

Remy grins at Margot over my shoulder, his somber countenance gone immediately. It’s like a mask he slips on, and I find it discomfiting.

“You know, I don’t think the luck was attached to the hat.Imust have been their good luck charm,” he says, standing to greet my friend. She comes over with a giant plastic bag and dumps it out on the table.

And onto my laptop.

I wrinkle my nose at the strong chemical scent of the plastic bag being waved in my face. It’s amazing that I didn’t notice how bad shit smells until after I Ascended.

“Yeah, they sucked ass this season. Thanks a lot for getting kidnapped,” she says before giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“I will do my very best to avoid it going forward,” he says.

He pulls items out of the giant pile and holds them up against his body while Margot takes the plastic bag to the kitchen trash can. When she comes back, I get a whiff of something more disturbing than the plastic bag.

“You fucked Hale?” I ask, shocked. “And you didn’t even bother to shower after?”

Remy gives me a look, urging me to be quiet, as he rips the tag off one of the shirts. Margot adjusts her clothing, and her cheeks turn crimson.

“I didn’t fuck him, actually. Nico’s dick was about to fall off, and so I just hung out with him. It was a favor.”

“Sure it was,” I say. “Is he almost over it?” I almost mention that I didn’t know if Gwyn had ever gotten on the other side of it. Considering she’d grinded her pussy all over me the other night, who fucking knows. But if I brought her up, then I’d have to address the elephant in the room in front of my brother.

Yes, I was seduced by the woman who locked you up. Yes, I was an idiot and she played me. No, I can’t let it go. Not until she’s dead.

“He didn’t try to rip my head off, so there’s that,” she says. “Did you know Nico gave his apartment up and that’s why he’s fucking Hale in my guest bedroom? If he thinks he’s moving in with me, he’s got another?—”

“Don’t act like you don’t love his company. He amuses you, and you’re friends,” I say, and she looks annoyed that I’ve called her out. But I’m right. Besides, Nico’s housing dilemma isn’t my problem. I’ve tested out my control of the vampires in the coven already, both relieved and annoyed Gwyn had done what she said when they had swarmed me. The moment I stepped foot off the elevator they’d all needed to swear a vow to me, under her orders, and I sat there for far too fucking long, letting them drink from me, before I’d left. But now the compound is mine again. Supposedly.

It feels pretty fucking inaccurate because she haunts my father’s penthouse like one of those old Victorian novels where some guy hides his crazy wife in the attic and everyone thinks she’s a ghost.

But it’s mine enough for now, and Nico will be able to find a new apartment within it without a problem.

“What’s your genius idea?” I ask.

“You’re not going to like it,” Margot says. “It’s not exactly who we want to talk to, and it’s a long shot, but I think it might be our best bet.”

“I fucking hate demons,” I say, sighing. “So, we’re fucked.”

Remy tosses his new shirt down onto the table and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Not exactly,” Margot says, and it’s clear she thinks highly of herself for finding a potential solution. “Do you remember Petra?”

17

GWYN

I squintthrough bleary eyes at my phone. The screen is entirely too fucking bright, despite being in dark mode, and I hiss in pain. The time is after 3 a.m. and it's my demon contact. Because of course that’s when they feel it’s a good time to do business.

“Hello?” I answer, groggy. My voice doesn’t sound right, far too low and raspy. I haven’t exactly spoken in the last few days since Sasha left, so maybe I’m just unfamiliar with it. Part of me wonders if this escape into bed and unconsciousness is a desperate attempt to find familiarity in the face of the unknown. At least in this, I’m comfortable, having been here more times than I can count.

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