Page 31 of Kael

"I was just—"

"Two."

She backed away, stammering an apology, her composure completely shattered as she disappeared into the crowd.

He glared at the onlookers, then turned to me. His expression was neutral, but I could see the anger simmering beneath. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"You let her do that to you," he said quietly. "You let her make you cry."

"I—I couldn't—" My voice broke. "She was—I tried to—"

"You let an irrelevant person's words get to you. You need to channel Maya," he said, shaking his head.

I cried harder, ashamed of myself.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Stop it, please. You're breaking my heart. Next time, stand up for yourself—unless you want me to do it."

The way he said "do it" made it clear there would be bloodshed involved.

I shook my head, sniffling. "No. I don't want you to do it. I know people end up dead when you handle stuff."

He laughed—a low, genuine sound that caught me off guard. He tilted my chin up with his fingers, his thumb brushing the wetness from my cheek.

"Does that mean you're still scared of me?" he asked.

"No." My voice was steadier now. "That means I'm scared for the people who cross you."

"If they cross you, it's the same as crossing me," he said.

"And me," I reiterated, stepping into him and hiding my face against his warm chest inside his jacket.

I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close as his hand cradled the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.

"Come on," he said, taking my hand. "Let's get you out of here."

I let him lead me through the crowd, past the whispers and the stares. I didn't care about any of them anymore, because he didn't care—and that was all that mattered.

Chapter 18

Kael

The maid, an older woman with white hair, opened the door before I reached the top step. She must have been watching from the window, which meant she’d been instructed to expect me. Now I was wondering what was important enough for Caine to summon me.

"Mr. Voss." She stepped aside. "They're waiting for you in the office."

I nodded and walked past her. The foyer was quiet, a clock ticking somewhere down the hall. I took the stairs two at a time, my boots heavy on the wood.

The study door was closed. I didn't knock; I turned the knob and pushed it open.

Caine sat behind his desk, elbows resting on the polished wood. Malachai occupied the chair across from him, spinning a knife between his fingers.

I squinted. If Caine had called both of us, something had happened.

Neither of them looked happy.

"Morning," I said.

Caine grunted.