Page 23 of Rogue & Her Hunters
He hasn’t been allowed to.
I nod again.
I’m shaking.
Nico throws himself at me, hugging me with his much smaller frame.
He’s thinner than I’m expecting, frighteningly thin.
Is Fiorella starving him?
He clings to me, however, with surprising strength.
I stare at Mars over Nico’s shoulder, who looks as shocked as I feel.
This hug is everything that I have always wanted. Except, I can’t enjoy it because this feels like a goodbye.
Finally, when Nico doesn’t appear to have any intention of letting go of me, I pat him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Nico shakes his head. “I should have found a way to do this earlier. Also, told you just how proud I am of you. Nothing should have stopped me. Your mom thought that calling youRoguewas a sick joke. But it was also hiding in plain sight, you know? No one would guess what you were if it was your literal name. It was a way of keeping us safe from the authorities. She plays mind games like that. But I always imagined in my head that it just meant you did things your own way, and you do. I’ve always supported and loved you just the way you are. Whatever happens, you protected your pack. You saved Mars. Those books on Rogues must have it wrong. I’ve lived for decades around monsters, and you’re not one of them.”
My throat is suddenly tight.
I wrap my arms firmly around Nico —Dad— and return his hug more firmly.
Now, I’m the one who doesn’t want to ever let him go.
“Dad…” I whisper.
“How touching. You coddle them, while I am in meetings trying to save our entire pack from being executed.” Fiorella stalks into the bedroom.
Fiorella’s bitter black coffee scent makes me gag.
Her scent is powerful enough in her fury to make Nico whimper. Both Mars and I wash soothing pheromones over him to comfort him.
Fiorella is dressed in an elegant scarlet suit, but it is creased and her makeup is smeared.
Bad sign.
I stiffen. My adrenaline jumps.
I stand, holding my hands smartly behind my back. I shutter my expression.
Fiorella marches straight to me.
She signals her movements fast enough that I know what she’s going to do.
I don’t attempt to dodge.
She slaps me across the face with a crack that echoes around the room.
Fiorella’s nails rake across the skin.
Blood trickles down my cheek to my chin. I lick the coppery blood off my lips, and it stains my teeth.
I remain standing as still as a statue.
This is it.
