Page 122 of Eternal Devotion

Game night was winding down by the time we returned to Ensley’s flat. Since Cristofer had not been invited to enter, and the owner of the premises couldn’t be manipulated or openly asked to extend such an invitation, directly or indirectly, we had to get creative.

Rather, Cristofer got creative.

He collected random stones from the pavement and along the curb until he had a handful, then he launched them one at a time at the upstairs windows.

“You’ll break the glass, and he’ll send you back to Europe.”

“I’ll charm my way out of it.”

I would have argued, but he was right. Even without tampering with minds, Cristofer had a charisma I could never achieve.

The rocks pinged against the glass, but I wasn’t sure it was loud enough to draw anyone’s attention. Tuning my hearing, I listened to the chatter beyond the window. A discussion about… brownies?

When Cristofer ran out of rocks, I helped him collect more, and we went at it together.

It was Mars who finally heard the disturbance.

30

Ensley

“What makes them apology brownies?” Ziggy plucked another chocolatey treat from the Tupperware before passing the container to me.

Poet, organizing his notes for the final boss room, barely spared him a glance. “She picked a fight again over absolutely nothing and kept me up all night, so I was a zombie at work the following day and got my ass chewed out for minor mistakes I would never have made otherwise.

“Then, when I refused to go to her house after work the following day because I was tired and wanted to sleep, she got angrier and decided to show up at my place so we could continue where we left off. After two hours of arguing—I didn’t even know what we were fighting about at this point—I told her I was done. I couldn’t keep going like this. She wasn’t worth my job or my sanity. I kicked her out and told her not to call me. She showed up at my work today with the brownies. They’re supposed to make me reconsider the whole breakup.”

Ziggy, grinning, licked a smear of chocolate from his fingers. “Is it working?”

Poet scoffed. “A two-dollar box of Betty Crocker isn’t worth throwing away a career.”

“I don’t know. Have you tried them? They’re pretty damn good.”

“No, I haven’t tried them. Want to know why? She made them extra special. ‘With milk, baby. They’re richer that way.’” Poet mimicked her tone and scoffed.

I inhaled crumbs and sputtered, “She what? Doesn’t she know you’re lactose intolerant?”

“Oh, I’ve told her many times. It has yet to sink in.” Over his shoulder, Poet yelled, “Mars. What the fuck are you doing in there? It’s getting late, and we have a boss to kill. God help me, I will break up with you too if I don’t get out of here before midnight.”

The toilet flushed, and Mars emerged, spraying an excessive amount of air freshener before closing the door.

I pitched a face. “Dude, seriously? That’s my bathroom.”

“And I would avoid it for a while.”

Ziggy snickered, while I continued to scowl.

Mars aimed for the kitchen and grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge. On his return to the couch, he paused and frowned, glancing at the line of tall windows that overlooked the street. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” I asked.

Poet, Ziggy, and I stopped what we were doing and listened. A clink sounded, followed by two successive pings.

“Is someone throwing rocks at my window?” I jumped to my feet and met Mars as he drew the curtains aside. I cupped a hand to the pane and peered into the night. “What the hell?”

“Is that your boyfriend?” Mars asked.

“Yes.”