Chapter 49
Electra
“You need to get rid of my phone.” Reeve’s voice rings with nerves.
“We will. Eventually.” Though my reply is cryptic, I doubt he misunderstands my reason for keeping it.
“Trenton can track my phone even if it’s out of battery.”
To avoid appearing dimwitted, I quietly ask Malachi in Atlantean: “Do you know who they’re talking about?”
“Another Hunter.”
I throw Malachi an arched brow. “Wow. I would never have guessed.”
A corner of Malachi’s mouth lifts.
I click on my message thread with Alexander.
ME: Who’s Trenton? And how far out are you guys? We’re almost at the airstrip.
ALEXANDER: We’re right behind you.
A glance in the side mirror reveals the black SUV has caught up to us.
ALEXANDER: Nice job on snatching both HH.
ME: Why, thank you. So, who’s Trenton?
ALEXANDER: Never heard the name.
ALEXANDER: Why?
ME: Reeve just mentioned TRENTON would be tracking his cell phone.
ALEXANDER: Ask for Trenton’s codename.
I twist around to get an answer but get sidetracked by the staring competition Reeve and Quinn are presently engaged in. I expect yearning—after all, they eloped together—but find wariness.
Suddenly, I want the answer to another question more than Trenton’s codename.
Wanting you was never one of my lies. Does that mean the two Hunters aren’t mad for each other, or was that just another pretty line?
Reeve must either feel my stare or my thoughts, because his gray eyes lock on mine. I turn away before he can grasp any of my thoughts. The human is just too talented at reading me.
“Trenton is Quinn’s ex,” Reeve says.
“Reeve…” Quinn hisses.
“I’m done lying. I realize they might not trust us, but I trust Electra.” His gaze warms my neck, which in turn warms my cheeks.
If only our bodies came with an emotion switch.
“Is Hudson his middle name?” Malachi asks.
Something Reeve said a while back clobbers me in the head: I have two stepbrothers. The best lies are always interspersed with truths.
“Hudson and Trenton are brothers,” I conclude in a dull pitch, like the realization is exhausting, when in truth, my body is pulsating with barely-contained energy.
“Twins,” Reeve says.
“You should paint them a picture next,” Quinn grumbles.
“I would, but unlike you, I have no artistic talent.”
“They fucking killed your parents, Reeve. Cut off their fucking heads.”
“They didn’t. Gael Monta did.”
Quinn huffs.
“Is that why you targeted me?” Might as well begin the interrogation.
“It’s one of the reasons.”
“You must have one hell of a magical pussy, Electra.” Quinn’s comment is accompanied by the tensest, most awkward silence I have ever lived through.
“You know how I feel about the organization. I’ve been out for six years. The only reason I went back in was to break you out, Hayes. Changing sides is scary, but I’d have expected—after what Trenton did to you—that you wouldn’t remain on their side.”
“I’m not… On their side,” Quinn mutters, while I wonder what her husband did to her.
“Your husband’s the one who took a blade to your cheek?” Malachi’s tone is placid in the way the ocean’s surface is placid right before a tsunami.
“Don’t pretend like you’re above disfiguring people, Hadez. I’ve seen you kill. You’re no better a man than my asshole ex.”
“I might have blood on my hands, but not any of my girlfriends’.”
“Lucky them,” Quinn mutters, staring out her window at the small airstrip ahead.
The sight of the family jet tosses me back to my last visit to the Vineyard for Calanthe’s birthday. We’d come here with the family—minus Malachi, who was still wandering the seven continents.
Some people wished upon shooting stars; I’d wished upon my best friend’s celebratory fireworks. I’d bade Gaea and the heavens to make Malachi fall madly in love with me. If my wish had come true, would Reeve still have come into my life?
The backs of my lids flare with scenes from last night. I force them away by picturing the navy sky exploding with glittery color, and Calanthe coming to sit beside me on the swing bench I’d spent the better part of my night warming, a beer bottle clutched in hand.
She and I had discussed everything and nothing until I’d dared mention my wish. Though Calanthe hadn’t grimaced, she also never encouraged my crush. It’s like she knew Malachi and I weren’t destined for one another.
And not because Reeve and I are. Clearly, we’re not. Maybe I’m not destined for anyone. Maybe I’m bound to be an immortal spinster with only my book boyfriends as faithful lovers.
Reeve’s earlier words slam back into me. Wanting you was never one of my lies. Ugh. His declaration lie stirs my writhing insides until my gut feels more twisted than this situation.
We park at the same time as Gael, but he’s out of the car before we are.
At the sight of him, Quinn gasps and spins her head toward Reeve. Our detainees don’t have to speak for me to understand the panic charging across their minds.
“You’re my hostages, not Gael’s,” I say, as Malachi exits the driver’s side and opens Quinn’s door.
“Is that your way of promising you’ll keep our heads attached to our bodies?” The cynicism in Quinn’s tone is softened by an undercurrent of fear that curls up one side of Malachi’s mouth.
How odd. Though Malachi loathes Holy Hunters as much as the next Atlantean, he’s not the type to get off on people’s distress…unlike so many others among us.
He pops Quinn’s seat belt buckle. “Tarian’s been waiting for Gael to slip, so it’ll make his day if he tries anything.”
I’m aware there’s no love lost between my adoptive family and my biological one. I’m also aware that Gael is somewhat lawless. But what Malachi is alluding to ices the blood in my veins, because Tarian has the power to not only strip my father of his magic but also of his immortality.
Dread forms in the pit of my stomach, and even though Gael and Alexander behave on the plane, barely addressing Quinn and Reeve, my anxiety doesn’t wane. It only festers as we pull into Tarian’s estate and situate our prisoners inside separate quarters down in the basement.
“I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you,” Malachi says as he joins me by the front door of Tarian’s mansion.
I neither nod nor lift my stare off the gleaming SUV flying up the long driveway, spitting decorative pebbles left and right. “What if this is a Trojan Horse?”
“What do you mean?” Malachi leans against the outsized doorframe and crosses his arms in front of his chest.
“What if they didn’t put up a fight because their capture is part of some bigger, elaborate scheme?” I murmur.
“Then I welcome their elaborate scheme—especially if it leads Caruso’s heirs to our doorstep.”
“We’d be outnumbered.”
“They’d be outmagicked.”
“Don’t be cocky, Mal. Holy Hunters aren’t some puny, disorganized rebel group; they have weapons that can neutralize us.” I jump when he touches my shoulder, causing his fingers to slip.
“I realize you’re still raw about Rafferty’s deception, but you aren’t alone in this, Elle. You’ve got me.” The sunset tangles with his blond locks and gilds his soft blue eyes.
A slamming car door drags my gaze off Malachi and onto a hulking male with circles so purple they resemble bruises.
I take a step in Dorian’s direction, but stop when a second person circles the car.