Page 150 of Blood and Ruin: The Complete Series

“Agreed.”

Luka frowns, his stare becoming more focused as he tries to come up with a way that we can find some information on this demon quickly.

I let him do his thing, knowing I’m useless at this point unless he needs some physical back up.

“We can see if the demons in Staten Island know anything?” he says, but we both know that’s not much of an option.

“You know better than me. They want nothing to do with us.”

The dicks like to think it’s better to be apart from the rest of us, keeping their so-called dark gene pool pure. A shitty excuse to segregate their kind from the rest of the supes, was all it was.

“We’ll need to figure this out somehow and we’re gonna need help,” he says.

“Well, think of something else, because that’s not an option.”

Luka would like nothing more than us all to join hands and talk it out, but people with power—especially supes who already have a shit ton—like to keep it to themselves. Horde it and hold it over others to use as leverage to gain more.

The demons won’t help us unless we have something to offer them, and as new alphas trying to find their mate and run a city, we have nothing but extra problems for them.

“We can check out some books we have back home.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “We might find something.”

More like, he might find something. I’d rather claw my eyes out than sit down and read old dusty books. My wolf agrees. Our joined energies always need to be on the move, the bond we shared in sync, sharing the same goal.

Luka gives me a look, toying with his phone. I narrow my eyes on my shifty twin, knowing he’s come up with something but doesn’t want to tell me.

“Spit it out. I know you enough to know when you want to do something I don’t like.”

Luka narrows his eyes but tells me, anyway. “You know who might have some information on this? Cillian.”

I snarl at the fucker’s name, my wolf rising at the mere mention of the sick and twisted excuse for a supe.

“No. Not happening. That sick fuck isn’t coming anywhere near us.”

Luka releases a harsh breath, frowning. After what he did to us, especially him, he shouldn’t even be thinking about that…demented psycho.

“He might know what type of demon that is. He’s the maven of the family.”

That man—if you could even call him that—broke us. Luka more so than me. So Luka even mentioning his name surprises the hell out of me.

“First of all, that psycho is not our family. In fact, apart from Luna, neither are any of the rest of them. It’s the five of us and Kiarra, that’s all the family we need. We’ll figure the rest out ourselves.”

“If anyone knows anything about this, it will be him. I don’t know about you, but I want to focus on finding Kiarra, not running around chasing after demon minotaurs that appear from nowhere.”

I clench my jaw and fists, needing a target for my rising temper. Looking away, I focus on the sounds around me, trying to calm the chaos running through my veins.

Cillian is the maven of all the wolves in Manhattan and those stupid enough to listen to him outside it. They all fuckingrespecthim because of his expertise and knowledge in the supernatural community. And it’s because of that, he’s gotten away with what he did to us and more.

He’d already be dead if I had my way, but he got his claws in Luka a long time ago, spewing his cult nonsense about how neither of us should exist. And those claws are so fucking deep that I can’t even get to them.

I hate this. I know he is right, that he is the one who would know about this, but I fuckinghateit.

Even when it fucking broke him, Luka was always thinking logically and shit. But that was Luka, always thinking of others, even if it put himself in danger or, in this case, dragged up dark memories.

What Cillian did to him was unforgivable. I promised myself if we ever saw him again, I would rip his throat out and laugh while the fucker choked on his own blood. Then I’d dig him a grave myself just so I could dance and piss on it.

Luka didn’t need another thing to add to his nightmares. I’d have to deal with the fucker myself.

“I’ll call him.” Taking out my phone, I swallow back the bile, trying to rein in my temper before I speak to the asshole.

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