Cassius
Palms fisted in my lap; looking out from the front seat of the car, I chose not to look Anya’s way.
It was easier.
Let her make the decision.
She needed to decide what she wanted.
I wanted her to want this.
Despite everything, despite it not making sense, I needed her.
Every cell in my body was filled with doubt that letting her go was the right thing—because it meant she’d be going back to that home—with them. The one where the Glassmans got to rule and wreak havoc.
If I gave any shits about this girl, despite the fact she was one of them, then letting her return to that house was a mistake.
She didn’t know what I knew.
Didn’t have any idea of who her father was and what he’d done. The catastrophic work he did that destroyed not only people but also nations.
A blinding fury at myself for letting her return to that family.
When I saw her safe, my chest squeezed with relief. She was looking back at me from beneath an awning. If she wanted to, she could run back to the parade and easily disappear into the throng, and I’d lose her forever.
She held my gaze for a beat, and then her eyes widened in horror. She gestured for me to turn around. To look at something, her motions sharp and insistent.
A silver Lexus pulled up beside me.
I knew that car.
Reacting fast, I ducked down in my seat and quickly slid out the door and onto the ground while using the car as a shield.
Bullets cascaded in a deafening crescendo of metal striking metal. Shattering steel and glass. The ear-piercing noise shut out the cheers of the crowd not that far away.
Taking the risk to peek above the car to look for Anya and not seeing her, my flesh chilled with the thought a stray bullet might hit her.
Or her dad might grab her.
Within reach, just beyond where I crouched, was a red door—a familiar entry into a jazz club I’d visited in the past.
If I can just make it there.
Launching myself toward it, bending low to avoid another spray of ammunition that flew over my head. I yanked the door open, I was met with loud music coming from a corner band, so loud they were only now becoming aware of gunshots outside.
Guests were rising from their tables, uneasy from what they thought they’d heard. Squeezing between the tables, I worked my way through the small audience who were rising to their feet.
My heart was pounding.
When I made it all the way through to the other side, a blur of movement came at me from the rear door of the club.
It was Anya.
She flung herself into my arms, and I clutched her to my chest, holding her tight.
“The car’s circling.” Panic drenched her words. “They’re coming back.”
Anya
Lifting my head from where it lay on his chest, feeling the beat of his frantic heart, I tried to get Cassius to listen. “We have to call the police.”
“No.” He was adamant.
He was here, with me, and my heart squeezed that I’d almost lost him. Gripping his shirt and refusing to put distance between us ever again.
With shaking hands, I swept them over his chest, checking for any injury. “Did you get hit?”
He grabbed my hands. “Anya, I’m fine.”
“Okay, that’s good. That’s good.”
He cupped my face with affection. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“You’re in shock.”
“Come on,” I begged him to come with me, but he resisted. “We have to hide.”
“Apparently, I don’t have your father’s blessing.”
“Shut up. This is serious! He could have killed you.”
Agonizing—the moment before everything came crashing down . . . my mother’s hand pulling back—her rejection.
Agony caught in my throat as I replayed my mother’s betrayal . Couldn’t think of that now. Couldn’t let myself crumble from the agony of her refusal to help me. We still had to survive that car coming back around.
Denial was easier to swallow, my throat tightening, grief-stricken. “My father isn’t a murderer.” Even though I knew he was.
Cassius hugged me tighter.
I buried my face against his chest again. “Was it really him?”
“We can’t stay.” He avoided my question. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
Together, we scurried toward the back of the club and down a slim hallway, the sudden confusion all around us conflicting with my own terror.
Cassius opened the door and checked the way was clear. With my hand still in his, we edged along the road, and now and again, glanced back down the street, looking out for the Lexus.
Carrying over the rooftops came the joyful notes of Mardi Gras clashing with what we’d been through.
The world was still turning as ours fell apart.
We headed that way. My heart hammering, mouth dry, clinging to Cassius as we sprinted back toward the parade. We merged with the crowd and disappeared into the swarming bodies. Cassius tugged off his jacket and let it slip to the ground, losing it quickly. We pushed our way into the center to shield us from the street.