Page 201 of Problematic

Mandi tucked the fake delivery slips into her pocket. “If I die, make my eulogy dramatic.”

“No one is dying,” Sam snapped.

“I said if.”

“No if.”

I held my bundle of nerves together with both hands and followed them into the city.

Lux Tower rose above everything. Southern flags hung from the lower balconies already, rust-red strips snapping in the wind where Lux’s silver tower marks should have been. My stomach twisted at the sight. I wanted to burn them.

They had dressed his home in someone else’s colors, and I was here to fix that. I felt Lux through the bond again, a hard pulse of pain deep underground.

My steps faltered.

Kalon noticed. Of course he noticed. “Still below?”

I nodded.

“How far?”

“I don’t know. Under. Deep.” I rubbed my palms down my dress, then stopped when the tail tightened around my thigh.

He almost smiled. “You’re doing fine.”

We split before Lux Tower came into full view.

Kalon went first, shoulders squared, chin up, walking toward the new South-controlled lobby like a man willing to sell his loyalty for a paycheck.

Sam and Mandi followed ten minutes later through the side street with flowers held high. Mandi already had her face arranged into bored service-worker chic. Sam looked one insult away from exploding.

I waited across the street with my hood up, feeling the bond pull harder with every breath. No one stopped me when I approached the front of the building. No one even glanced my way. The front doors of Lux Tower opened for me because Scarn wanted the world to believe he owned every door now.

The lobby smelled like bleach—blood under bleach, to be exact. Someone had cleaned the front desk. Badly. A faint stain still darkened the seam between two slabs of marble, and my stomach rolled when I saw it. A southern guard stood near the security gate, rifle across his chest, eyes bored until they landed accidentally on my face.

“Name,” he said.

“Olivia Heart.”

His brows lifted as another guard glanced over.

“Lux’s mate,” he said.

My fingers shook, but I let him see it. I let my eyes water, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “I want to see him.”

The guard laughed under his breath. “That so?”

“Please.” I hated begging, so I made myself do it. “I need to talk to him.”

He leaned one shoulder against the security gate. “You got a message for the prisoner?”

Prisoner. I fucking hated that word immediately. The bond snapped hot through my ribs. I swayed, and the guard’s arm shot out to catch my elbow. Skin met skin and my hunger woke.

My magic slid out of me. Heat threaded beneath my skin, subtle enough that he wouldn’t think twice about the warmth. It slipped over his wrist. His pupils widened, his breath went shaky, and his body relaxed under my touch.

Oh . . . oh shit, that was new.

The guard forgot to let go.