Page 33 of Warrior

He looks completely fine. His house, however, is far from it. I cruised by it earlier, noting with a smile that it was brought down to the studs.

His car was toast, too.

“You’ve switched up our meeting spot,” I finally say.

No one blinked an eye when I arrived.

Kade glances around. No doubt he cataloged who was in here the second he stepped through the door, but he’s repeating it for show. Men drinking at the bar, a few couples at tables dotted around the place.

No Gabriel. No sign of the bloodshed that took place the last time we were both here.

“What’s up, Kade? I got your cryptic message.” I toss the note on the table between us. “Bad enough that you turned me over to Gabriel. Now threats?”

He narrows his eyes. “Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

I lift one shoulder.

I am calm, cool, and unaffected by any of his bullshit.

“You would’ve thought less of me if I sacrificed Reese to save you.”

“Is that what it came down to? His life for mine?”

“He wouldn’t have woken up.”

I knew that, deep down. Gabriel is crazy, but… I think Kade is just as insane. In a different way, sure, but there’s a screw loose in his brain. There’s something else he’s after, and my distrust of him only climbs the longer he sits across from me.

“What’s the real reason you burned my house down?”

“It was a rental.” I glower at him. “That’s not an admission of guilt, by the way. I’m just saying—it’s not your problem.”

“I bought it just the other day.” He stares at me. “While you were in the hospital.”

A sick feeling twists my gut. “Because you’re staying in Sterling Falls.”

“I had decided on it, yes.”

“No.”

His brow ticks upward. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, you can’t stay. It’s… you just can’t.”

He leans forward. He’s so massive, he comes halfway over the table and into my space. His brown eyes search my face, but I have no idea what he’s looking for. I lean away. My back presses into the booth, holding me from escaping farther.

Not unless I want to rush away.

That temptation is cooled, however, when he returns to a normal position.

“Are you okay, Artemis?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“You’re flushed.”

My skin is hot, my muscles unable to relax. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours. Of course I’m not okay—but the day I admit that is the day I let him hold a knife in my vicinity.

“It’s late,” I say in a clipped voice. “So you just wanted to ask about your house, that’s it.”

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