Page 51 of The Devil's Thorn
A face Rafael has started watching too closely.
I smooth out the front of my blouse and slide the skirt over my hips, buttoning the vest and slipping the apron ties behind me.
A breath in. A breath out.
She’s back.
The girl who’s going to burn an empire from the inside out.
I step back into the bedroom and grab my phone just as it buzzes in my hand.
Kellan:We’re outside.
Of course they are. They’re never far.
Neither is the war I’m walking into.
I slip my phone into my clutch, grab my coat from the chair by the door, and head out of the apartment.
The elevator is already waiting. As the doors close behind me, I catch my reflection in the mirrored panel—composed, poised, a ghost of the girl I used to be.
The floor numbers light up one by one as I descend. By the time I reach the lobby, the mask is already on.
I push the door open and step into the night air.
Kellan is behind the wheel of the black SUV parked at the curb. Ash is in the passenger seat, glancing down at his phone. The moment they see me, both doors unlock with a quiet click.
I slide into the backseat.
Ash twists around slightly to look at me. “You look like someone who’s about to ruin someone’s life.”
I raise a brow. “That’s oddly specific.”
“It’s the eyes,” Kellan mutters, pulling away from the curb. “You get that look when you’re thinking too much.”
“I always think too much.”
“Yeah,” he says under his breath. “But tonight it’s louder.”
I glance out the window. The city is alive around us—lit up and humming like it knows something I don’t. The tension under my skin has been growing all day, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t quite push it down.
I press my fingers lightly against my thigh, grounding myself.
“I’m just working,” I murmur.
Ash snorts. “You’ve never ‘just worked’ a day in your life.”
I smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach my chest.
Kellan glances at me through the rearview. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
My eyes flick to his.
He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to.
Because I do.
Something is different tonight.
