Page 16 of Slayer

“Eight.”

I sigh. On the level-of-importance scale we use with each other, that’s not ideal. His shoulders are loose and there’s no fear in his gaze, no tension in his stance. Aside from the blood dripping down his cheek, he looks untouched. But after the stunt Silas pulled with Zorren last night, I can’t help the feeling of unease. I shake my head, knowing that we’re far too exposed to get into details right now.

“I’ll meet you at your apartment in an hour.” I wave him off and move past without looking back.

I cross the floor, my eyes drawn to the same spot where I found Maddoc last time. I wish I could go back to that moment—before I knew what was coming.

I make it to my door, then insert the key. The metal lock clicks loudly. I know Nyra is going to be pissed to be woken up this early. She’s a deep sleeper and not a morning person.

As soon as I step instead, I take note that the lantern is still burning from the night before, which isn’t like her at all. She must have been afraid of what was lurking in the dark.

She looks up at me from the pillow, her hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep.

“You look… well rested,” I murmur. I shut the door behind me, sliding the bolt home. She doesn’t bother answering, just lets out a soft yawn and moves her head to face the ceiling. The satin nightgown she’s wearing catches the dim light from the lantern on the far side of the room. Looks like she found some of my clothing.

“Ny, wake up. You have to get out of here. Aren’t you hungry? It’s your favorite time of day to eat.” Ironically, being not much of a morning person, she loves breakfast but always misses it.

“Am I in any danger?” she asks.

“No, you’re safe.” My answer is quick.

“Then I’m not getting up yet.” She curls back into the blankets, tucking herself into that little hollow of warmth. I watch her, letting her have this moment. One more stolen breath of peace before the day swallows us whole.

I cross to the far-right closet and pull out a black leather suit. I’ve worn it so much that it’s soft as a whisper now, clinging to me like a second skin. Every pocket cradles a blade. The gloves follow; black, fingertips cut off. I pull them on slowly, taking my time just to give Nyra a few more seconds.

I sit on the edge of the bed by her feet. The mattress dips under my weight. “Ny, I have to go. I’ve got a meeting.”

She cracks one eye open, her cheek pressing into the pillowcase. “You’re wearing your ‘gone for a while, out-of-town’ outfit. Where are you going?”

A small smile tugs at my mouth. She knows me a little too well for comfort. “Not for you to know. You can stay here and sleep. If you’re ever in danger, you run here. Lock yourself inside. You remember the other way out—the one that’s not through the door?” I question, nudging her. I need the reassurance.

She pushes herself upright, spine pressed against the headboard. “I do.” Her eyes stay wide, the fear in them spreading like ink in water.

“I’ll be back in a few days. Don’t go in the shadows, stay in the light. Stay where you’re never alone, unless you’re here. Understood?”

She nods without hesitation or argument, knowing I mean every word. My instructions are more than just orders; they are rules for survival. There are masters of the dark outside of the safety of this lair that can move swiftly and slit throats in the blink of an eye. She won’t even know she’s in danger until she’s bleeding out on the ground.

I rise from the bed and cross the room. At the door, I pause to drape my black cloak over my shoulders, the hood shadowing my face. My hand hovers over the door handle, but I glance back at Nyra once more.

“The key’s under the papers on my desk. Never leave this place unlocked.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile as she slides from the bed, bare feet whispering across the floorboards. She follows me to the door, already reaching for the lock, ready to seal it the second I’m gone.

I close the door behind me, waiting to hear the click.

As it sounds, my gaze drifts through the underground space. The last time I stood here like this, Maddoc was waiting at the bar for me. The memory sends a flare of pain straight through my chest. I know now what I didn’t then. That was the last time.

I turn away and step into the crowd, weaving through drunken men and women, their laughter and movements blurring together. My feet feel heavy with every step—but not nearly as heavy as the decisions waiting for me once I leave this place behind.

Chapter eight

Promise

I walk outside of Pebble’s, tilting my head up. Smoke drifts from Zorren’s chimney, threading itself into the last wisps of morning fog as the gold light bleeds over the rooftops. He’s home and safe.

I scan the street. Empty. This early, it always is. I prefer it that way, fewer eyes, fewer questions. I can survive on scraps of sleep. I’ve always wondered if my siren blood keeps me sharp or if I’ve just grown accustomed to it. Nyra needs hours of sleep to drag herself through a single day. Me? I could go without for many days as long as I have a purpose.

I grip the creaky ladder bolted to the side of his building that I built years ago. I climb fast, quiet, slipping in through the rusted window without a sound. My boots land on the floorboards, soft as a whisper.