The Hind rose, gathering her cards. “Well, this has been delightfully dull.”
The Harpy stood with her. Black talons glinted at the angel’s fingertips. “Let’s hope they fuck better than they play poker.”
Ruhn crooned, “I’m sure there are Reapers who’ll stoop to fuck you.”
The Hind snickered, earning a glare from the Harpy that the deer shifter ignored. The Harpy hissed at Ruhn, “I do not take being insulted lightly, princeling.”
“Get the Hel out of my bar,” Ruhn snarled softly.
She opened her mouth, but the Hind said, “We’ll see you soon, I’m sure.” The Harpy understood that as a command to leave and stormed out the door onto the sunny street. Where life, somehow, continued onward.
The Hind paused on the threshold before she left, though. Peered over her shoulder at Ruhn, her silver necklace glinting in the sunlight trickling in. Her eyes lit with unholy fire.
“Tell Prince Cormac I send my love,” the Hind said.
Bryce was one breath away from calling the Autumn King when the door to the apartment opened. And apparently, she looked a Hel of a lot worse than her brother or Ithan, because they immediately demanded to know what had happened to her.
Hunt, nursing a beer at the kitchen counter, said, “Emile and Sofie aren’t in the Bone Quarter. But we found out some major shit. You’d better sit down.”
Yet Bryce went up to her brother, scanning him from the piercings along his ear to his tattooed arms and ass-kicking boots. Not one sleek black hair out of place, though his skin was ashen. Ithan, standing at his side, didn’t give her the chance to turn to him before approaching the fridge and grabbing a beer of his own.
“You’re all right?” Bryce asked Ruhn, who was frowning at the dirt and blood on her—the wound on her back had thankfully closed, but was still tender.
Tharion said from where he sat on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, “Everyone is fine, Legs. Now let’s sit down like a good little rebel family and tell each other what the Hel happened.”
Bryce swallowed. “All right. Yeah—sure.” She scanned Ruhn again, and his eyes softened. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“We couldn’t answer our phones.”
She didn’t let herself reconsider before throwing her arms around her brother and squeezing tight. A heartbeat later, he gently hugged her back, and she could have sworn he shuddered in relief.
Hunt’s phone buzzed, and Bryce pulled away from Ruhn. “Celestina wants me at the Comitium for Ephraim’s arrival,” Hunt said. “She wants her triarii assembled.”
“Oh, Ephraim’s already here.” Ithan dropped onto the couch. “We learned the hard way.”
“You saw him?” Bryce asked.
“His cronies,” Ithan said, not looking at her. “Played poker with them and everything.”
Bryce whirled on Ruhn. Her brother nodded gravely. “The Hind and the Harpy showed up to the bar where we were lying low. I can’t tell if it was because Mordoc sniffed around the alley where Cormac made the intel drop or what. But it was … not great.”
“Do they know?” Hunt asked quietly, storms in his eyes. “About you? About us?”
“No idea,” Ruhn said, toying with his lip ring. “I think we’d be dead if they did, though.”
Hunt blew out a sigh. “Yeah, you would be. They would have taken you in for questioning already.”
“The Hind is a fucking monster,” Ithan said, turning on the TV. “Her and the Harpy, both.”
“I could have told you that,” Hunt said, finishing his beer and striding to where Bryce stood before the glass dining table. She didn’t stop him as he slid a hand over her jaw, cupping her cheek, and kissed her. Just a swift brush of their mouths, but it was a claiming and a promise.
“Rain check?” he murmured onto her lips. Right. The dinner and the hotel—
She frowned pitifully. “Rain check.”
He chuckled, but grew deadly serious. “Be careful. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t go looking for that kid without me.” He kissed her forehead before leaving the apartment.
Bryce offered up silent prayers to Cthona and Urd to protect him.
“Glad you two finally sorted it out,” Tharion said from the couch.
Bryce flipped him off. But Ruhn sniffed her carefully. “You … smell different.”
“She smells like the Istros,” Ithan said from the couch.
“No, it’s …” Ruhn’s brows twitched toward each other, and he scratched at the buzzed side of his head. “I can’t explain it.”