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The fact that it’s happening now, in front of her, of all the people it could have happened in front of.
Raze studies her another long beat, weighing whatever math he’s running behind that unreadable expression of his. “She stays,” he says finally. “Until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
Coil doesn’t argue. Scar doesn’t argue. Nobody fucking argues with Raze when his voice drops into that register, flat and final, the one that ends conversations instead of starting them.
Echo looks back at me one more time as Sentinel starts leading her toward the clubhouse, and those fucking eyes catch mine again. She holds my stare for a few steps, still watching me with that same look that’s been getting under my skin since Coil dragged her through the gates. Like whatever she saw when I tried to speak has stuck with her, and now she can’t quite leave it alone.
My jaw tightens.
Join the fucking club.
I can’t leave it alone either.
The only difference is that she gets to ask what happened to my voice.
And I can’t fucking answer her.
I watch her go, and the hellhound under my skin, the one that hasn’t had a decent thing to say since yesterday, sits up and pays attention for the first time since the binding took my roar.
Chapter Seven
ECHO
The deeper I get into the clubhouse, the more sounds start stacking on top of each other.
Boots thudding on wooden floors. A burst of laughter somewhere behind me. Pool balls cracking together, followed by a rough voice telling someone their aim is fucking embarrassing. Music plays low from another room, almost buried beneath the scrape of chairs and the steady rise and fall of conversations I can’t quite make out.
Years of running have taught me to notice all of it.
Especially the footsteps beside me.
The man keeps pace at my shoulder as he leads me farther down the hallway, close enough that the power rolling off him keeps brushing against my senses. I felt it outside, but in here, away from the yard full of supernatural noise, there’s no mistaking what he is—an angel.
Well, fuck.
I’ve crossed paths with enough creatures over the years to know when something powerful is standing too close, but this feels different. His frequency runs bright and clean beneath my skin, touching the song behind my teeth and making it pull back like it isn’t entirely sure what to do with him.
I am.
Keep walking.
Keep watching.
Remember the way out.
The hallway stretches ahead, doors breaking up the timber walls, some newer than others, patches showing where walls have been repaired instead of replaced. I count each one without meaning to, mark the turn we took from the main room and the window halfway down that looks wide enough to climb through if this whole friendly escort turns into something else.
So far, nobody has tried to lock a door behind me.
Doesn’t mean they won’t.
A woman hums somewhere farther inside, pots knocking together as the smell of herbs and something cooking reaches me. It should make this place easier to understand—a kitchen, laughter, and people giving each other shit over a game of pool.
Normal things.
Except an angel is walking beside me, a reptilian something-or-other brought me here, and somewhere outside is a man carrying something powerful enough to drag me across miles of fucking wilderness.
A man who opened his mouth to speak to me and couldn’t.
