“No.”
When Micah didn’t interrupt them, Hunt said, “Look at the evidence.” His voice was sharp as knives. “Look at the last messages between you. The drugs we found in your system that night—that was standard shit for you two. So what was one more kind of drug? One that in small doses could give an even more intense high? One that could take the edge off for Danika after a long day, after Sabine had ripped her apart yet again? One that gave her a taste of what it’d be like to be Prime of the wolves, gave her that power, since she was waiting to make the Drop with you?”
“No.”
Hunt’s voice cracked. “She took it, Bryce. All signs point to her killing those two CCU students the night the Horn was stolen. They saw her stealing the Horn and she chased them down and killed them.”
Bryce remembered Danika’s pallor when she’d told her about the students’ deaths, her haunted eyes.
“It’s not true.”
Hunt shook his head. As if he could undo it, unlearn it. “Those drug lords I killed said Danika was seen around the Meat Market. Talking about synth. It was how Danika knew Maximus Tertian—he was an addict like her. His girlfriend had no idea.”
“No.”
But Hunt looked to Micah. “I assume we’re going now.” He held out his wrists. For cuffs. Indeed, those were gorsian stones—thick, magic-killing manacles—gleaming in Isaiah’s hands.
The Archangel said, “Aren’t you going to tell her the rest?”
Hunt stilled. “It’s not necessary. Let’s go.”
“Tell me what,” Bryce whispered. Tharion’s hands tightened on her arms in warning.
“That he already knows the truth about Danika’s murder,” the Archangel said coldly. Bored. As if he’d done this a thousand times, in a thousand variations. As if he’d already guessed.
Bryce looked at Hunt and saw it in his eyes. She began shaking her head, weeping. “No.”
Hunt said, “Danika took the synth the night she died. Took too much of it. It drove her out of her mind. She slaughtered her own pack. And then herself.”
Only Tharion’s grip was keeping her upright. “No, no, no—”
Hunt said, “It’s why there was never any audio of the killer, Bryce.”
“She was begging for her life—”
“She was begging herself to stop,” Hunt said. “The only snarls on the recording were hers.”
Danika. Danika had killed the pack. Killed Thorne. Killed Connor.
And then ripped herself to shreds.
“But the Horn—”
“She must have stolen it just to piss off Sabine. And then probably sold it on the black market. It had nothing to do with any of this. It was always about the synth for her.”
Micah cut in, “I have it on good authority that Danika stole footage of the synth trials from Redner’s lab.”
“But the kristallos—”
“A side effect of the synth, when used in high doses,” Micah said. “The surge of powerful magic it grants the user also brings the ability to open portals, thanks to the obsidian salt in its formula. Danika did just that, accidentally summoning the kristallos. The black salt in the synth can have a mind of its own. A sentience. Its measurement in the synth’s formula matches the unholy number of the kristallos. With high doses of synth, the power of the salt gains control and can summon the kristallos. That’s why we’ve been seeing them recently—the drug is on the streets now, in doses often higher than recommended. Like you suspected, the kristallos feeds on vital organs, using the sewers to deposit bodies into the waterway. The two recent murder victims—the acolyte and the temple guard—were the unfortunate victims of someone high on the synth.”
Silence fell again. And Bryce turned once more to Hunt. “You knew.”
He held her stare. “I’m sorry.”
Her voice rose to a scream. “You knew!”
Hunt lunged—one step toward her.
A gun gleamed in the dark, pressed against his head, and halted him in his tracks.
Bryce knew that handgun. The engraved silver wings on the black barrel.
“You move, angel, and you fucking die.”
Hunt held up his hands. But his eyes did not leave Bryce as Fury Axtar emerged from the shadows beyond the crates of synth.
Bryce didn’t question how Fury had arrived without even Micah noticing or how she knew to come. Fury Axtar was liquid night—she’d made herself infamous for knowing the world’s secrets.