Page 97 of The Carnage We Keep

“Explain.”

He shrugs. “It was retaliation for some shit that crossed a line, in my humble opinion. And I don’t think he was trying to hit the whole party.”

I scowl. “Retaliation for what?”

Adrik shakes his head. “Nope. Not going there.”

“C’mon!”

He clears his throat. “If you’re feeling curious or brave, you can ask Kirill.”

I want to keep pressing him for answers, but the guy's an immovable mountain when he chooses to be, and it’s clear this conversation is over.

We keep walking down the street back to his motorcycle. I reflexively flip off Madame Ophelia’s shop when we walk by. She angrily sticks her head out of the door after we pass and yells at me for being rude.

“Not my fault!” I yell over my shoulder. “Mercury must be in retrograde!”

The evening is turning darker and we’re passing The Seven Bells when my eyes dart to the side and land on a familiar all-black G-wagon.

My eyes narrow.

The one and only time I’ve been in this car is when that fucker drove me to Queens and locked me in a basement.

Instantly, that same chilling sensation I had when he slammed the barred door shut comes raking over my skin. The same nauseating memory of the smell of stale cigarettes, cheap beer, and rot filling my nostrils.

The same sinking sensation.

The feeling of clawed hands dragging me down to drown me in the darkness and horror.

“You okay?”

I blink, yanking my gaze away from Damiano’s Mercedes and back to Adrik.

“Yeah,” I say quickly. “I'm fine.”

At least, I was. But that’s before my gaze slides past Adrik and through the dusty front windows of The Seven Bells to land on Damiano, sitting at the far corner of the bar.

He’s not alone.

My fingers twitch as if curling around a knife. Part of my brain immediately starts wondering…if I hot-wired his G-wagon, and rammed it through the front wall of the bar, would I flatten Damiano like a cockroach before the impact slowed me down?

“Bella,” Adrik growls. “What’s⁠—”

“Are you carrying right now?”

He frowns. “Excuse me?”

“A gun,” I say flatly. “Do you have a gun on you.”

A concerned look crosses his face, like I’ve finally given up on even pretending to be normal. But then I make the mistake of glaring past him again at Damiano’s back, and Adrik’s gaze follows mine.

He exhales slowly.

“More shit I don’t want to get involved with,” he growls, shaking his head. “But whatever the fuck is going on between you two, don’t do anything stupid.”

I gape at him with mock offense. “Moi?!”

Adrik rolls his eyes.