The billiards scene in Seattle hadn’t been anything so grand like you’d find further out into the country or even in a dump like Orange County, but whenever a place had a table, you could always count on finding someone on the other side of it.

  The bar where Cameron worked had been like that, and Alex and a few others had often lingered there in the after hours, waiting for Cameron to get off. He’d started doing that well before he’d turned twenty-one, if he was being honest. So, when Luan switched the snooker table for Alex’s preferred billiards, Alex knew he couldn’t let that handicap slide uncontested.

  “I’ll spot you two balls,” he said, “to even things out a little.”

  It was the fairest way to handicap a game of eight-ball, in his opinion. The balls still stayed on the table, but this way, regardless of whether Luan played stripes or solids, he’d get to shoot the eight-ball two balls earlier than Alex could.

  The lean, wolfish man slammed his ten-real bill onto a high-top table next to Alex’s pitiful sum, then bared his teeth in a dangerous grin. “Rather cocky, aren’t you?”

  Cocky? Yeah, glad that’s being communicated.

  Mages and the like tended to view the world of ‘mundanes’ as smaller than the one they knew, so in their eyes it figured that Alex, who had managed to adjust so fast, would be the cream of the crop of what it had to offer. Afterall, a normal person among these Nightmares wouldn’t be completely normal, would he?

  Plus, Luan was a shifter. Most shifter clans hung around their territory in the wilderness, not in civilized bars. Alex would put decent odds on besting the man for all it mattered. Hell, I could even be more cocky.

  “I’ll give you first break as well,” Alex added. “First to three games wins.”

  Luan huffed derisively. Then he grabbed his wooden cue, leveled it on the bridge of his hand, and peered down its length. His eyes narrowed with a predator’s focus. His arms were muscled and lanky, and his fingers were grizzled and slender. He placed the cue ball off to the side, lined up his shot, and then stopped.

  Alex waited expectantly as everything seemed to go still for a second. The bossa nova playing from the speakers overhead seemed distant as if sound had been sucked out of the room. Then the ball shot forth, and with a barrage of dull clinks, he watched the array of balls spread across the table.

  And as the eight-ball in the center rolled slowly into the middle pocket, he ate his words and tasted immediate regret for them like a bitterness on his tongue. Luan was better than him.

  Right, it would be strange if he wasn’t. That’s fine. Better this way, probably.

  Bar rules dictated that pocketing the eight-ball on the break shot was an instant win, so Alex reached over to gather them for the next round. He was stopped.

  “WPA rules,” Luan said. He beamed at Alex as he fetched the eight-ball from its pocket and placed it back on the table. “And I’ll spot you two.”

  Alex grimaced. Then he remembered that he was playing over a pot of roughly four dollars in dead currency and against a man who could kill him in a second if they were anywhere else but here.

  “Thank you,” he grumbled. The game began in earnest.

  As Luan continued his run, Alex started to get a better grip on his skill level and began to relax. The shifter’s senses lent themselves well to the accuracy of his shots, but he didn’t seem particularly strategic. His positioning was nothing to write home about, and outside of the odd practiced trick shot or two, it was clear he wasn’t up against a professional.

  Granted, Luan was well above Alex’s level of play.

  It wasn’t as if Alex was concerned that being trounced in a game of pool would make him look too weak. Not more than playing while covered in gauze tape and bandages already did. But it seemed he’d still clung to a semblance of the pride he’d had in his youth.

  Well, I still got a few tricks up my sleeve.

  He watched as Luan lined up his next shot with the same fervent intensity he’d shown earlier. It seemed to come naturally to him. But when he sank his second stripe, his path was unfortunately crowded by Alex’s solids, and his third shot went nowhere. He ended his run with only two sunk balls and handed the turn-off to Alex.

  They didn’t speak much, and Alex soon found himself lost in the pub’s atmosphere.

  There was just something about it.

  The upbeat jazz played by soft horns, the smell of polished wood. An empty bar, like the one he’d lingered by just after closing, playing pool or darts with his first real friends. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m acting more like I did back then. It all just took him back to a simpler time.

  He hopped one leg onto the table’s ridge, reading the layout of the balls and trying to calculate the best move he could. He saw a way to potentially sink four balls in this run, but Luan’s last stroke had sent the cue ball to a tricky location. Alex would need a masse shot here, which required a near ninety-degree perpendicular stroke to put enough side spin on the ball. And he was many… many years out of practice for something like that.

  There were other ways. But Alex supposed he just wanted his masse shot. So, he would have it.

  Clink!

  He smiled, then stretched the rueful expression into something more vain as he let the game settle into the background of his mind. The quiet atmosphere was strangely relaxing, but he hadn’t suddenly gone stupid. Alex could still feel the shifter’s gaze split between him and the table, and the question still remained: why was Luan giving him the time of day?

  He didn’t buy for a second that boredom was the only reason.

  Alex lined up his cue, a look of concentration on his face as he mimed his stroke, then pocketed his second ball. Velrick’s parting words echoed again in his head. He was starting to think they’d been a warning. Too much inconspicuousness was suspicious, and in hindsight, it was easy to see where he’d messed up. But he was well aware of that now and had made sure to adjust his behavior for all the other nightmares before this.

  Alex walked around to the other side of the table, setting up his next shot. He glanced up at the man. Luan hadn’t spoken in some minutes. He was clearly waiting for something, taking Alex’s measure. He’d rolled the ball into Alex’s court, quite literally, and Alex had to choose now what to do with it.

  But why?

  It didn’t matter; that wasn’t a question this Alex would ask anyway.

  “So… a werewolf,” he started instead, “like… in the movies?”

  The cue ball bounced off the cushion at a trajectory slightly off from what he’d wanted. His turn came to an end.

  Luan laughed. “Hah! No, not… well, I guess some of them are like that. You won’t see me rip my shirt off and howl at the moon, but the Grey Wolves hold much more sway in media than the rest of us. Really, not all shifters are wolves y’know? I come from a clan of Maned Wolves, and the subject is… a little hot among my pack.”

  “I see,” Alex said.

  Maned Wolves, despite their name, weren’t actually wolves. They were a species of their own genus, and as far as the larger shifter clans were concerned, they were inferior because of it.

  If Alex recalled correctly, conflicts had essentially forced them to roam the outskirts of the South American highlands. Closer to human society…

  Luan sank another striped ball, putting a superfluous spin on his shot. Damn it, no wonder.

  “So, what’s your story?” Luan asked. “You look fancy with your slacks and tie and all, but a working man doesn’t just wake up and face the apocalypse, eh?”

  Alex hummed his agreement. A low-ball for a low-ball. It was a fair question, even if he really was just your average nine-to-five call center salesman in this life.

  “My dad was an expert in mixed martial arts and survival training,” Alex said. “He was… harsh in his training. He once abandoned me in the mountains and he’d run a dojo out of our downstairs ever since I can remember. At least, while he was still around…”

  He added a sad inflection to that last part and hoped that Luan could only sniff out fear and not bullshit.

  “Hah! You expect me to believe sparring on a mat prepared you to take on Nightmare? Enough to kill one of those Boss things alone?”

  Luan snorted; his disbelief evident but not accusatory. Alex decided his story was good enough. He wasn’t about to embellish it and portray himself as a young, prodigious CIA agent or something.

  Though…

  “I’m not happy about any of this,” Alex said. “But I wasn’t happy with my life back on Earth either. And this power… this feeling, like having raw energy rushing through your veins, its—”

  “Really something, ain’t it? Just don’t let it control you. That’s how you ended up dead, kid. Eight-ball. Corner pocket.” Luan leaned over the table, his expression unreadable. As he called it, he sunk the eight ball into the pocket, winning the first game

  “You’re not a bad shot, but this is still a little unfair, isn’t it? How about this: I race to three, but if you win two games, we’ll call it your victory. Sound good?”

  Alex smirked slyly. “Give me too many handicaps and you might regret it, old man. Don’t complain when I start giving you a run for your money.”

  “Hah! You’d fit right in with my pack with that attitude!” Luan laughed as he gathered the balls from their pockets and set them up for another game.

  Truthfully, Alex didn’t think he could make the man eat his words. But there were still ways to make the game harder for someone better than you. He planned to go light on his break shot to keep the balls clustered. Instead of attempting unlikely run-outs, he’d focus on hindering Luan’s streaks. He’d slow the pace and drag the man into his game. It wasn’t always the faster horse that fought better in the mud, and Alex was sure he could take at least one game off him like that.

  Hm… “fit in with his pack.” I wonder if that was a subtle invitation.

  Alex doubted it was anything more than just small talk, but the more he spoke with Luan, the more he started to recall about him.

  Luan had ranked near the top of Nightmare’s Rankers, and it spoke highly of his skills that he did so without a major faction’s backing. The Maned Wolves were a relatively small clan, and if Alex remembered correctly, Luan didn’t have their full support either.

  Yet for all his prodigious talent, Luan died before the Invasion even started. So naturally, Alex had never met him directly.

  “Solids,” Alex called. He used a follow shot, guiding the cue ball with forward momentum to pocket his first solid. Now the cue ball was lined up for an easy pocket on his number seven, but that ball also blocked a pocket for one of Luan’s shots, so he left it there and aimed for another instead.

  They’d settled into a particular rhythm: whoever held the stick asked the questions. On that battlefield, slowing the pace of the game wasn’t the correct move.

  “Is your group one of the ‘world leaders’ who caused all this?” Alex asked.

  The mood seemed to shift.

  “The Maned Wolves were among the first to support the Integration. What about it?”

  “Why?” Alex snarled.

  “Why not? Now take your damn shot, kid.”

  Alex did, sinking a third ball with a bank shot, though it left him with no clear follow-ups.

  Luan scratched his head and sighed.

  “Terraformation, mostly,” he said. “There are other reasons, but it came at a good time for us. We’d been in talks with some neutral organizations about setting up a wildlife preserve, but those fell through. With deforestation, we’d have died out sooner or later. Don’t expect an apology from me, kid. I look after my own.”

  Alex frowned as if only half of that made sense to him. Slowly, he worked his way down from anger to something more subdued. It was about what he’d expected to hear, honestly. Terraformation was a common reason for most shifter clans, and he couldn’t say it was entirely unreasonable. These things weren’t as black and white as he’d once assumed.

  Annoyed, Alex deemed it necessary to put a slight quiver in his stroke as if he were still holding back his anger. But it was a safety shot meant to put the cue ball in a tough spot for Luan. It didn’t need pinpoint accuracy.

  I never knew preservation efforts were in the works. Is that why he’s so good at billiards?

  Now, Alex had half a mind to guess it was also probably the reason Luan didn’t have all the Maned Wolves at his back. From an outside perspective, it seemed nonsensical for a small clan not to support such prodigious talent. But if it was because he’d been ‘fraternizing with the humans,’ he could see it happening. A wildlife preserve on that scale would’ve taken years of networking to set up, and many of the shifter clans were old minded like that.

  Standing across from Luan, Alex couldn’t help but wonder. If he’d had his clan’s support… Ahh, What a waste.

  Still, he relished that his tactics had thrown Luan off his game. Or perhaps it had been the question itself. Either way, Luan attempted a jump shot to circumvent Alex’s blockade. He landed it, but not with enough precision for it to be legal. Alex didn’t hesitate to call foul, eager for the advantage—oh, and… right, he was still spiteful that Luan had contributed to the apocalypse. Important to let that sentiment leak through. Not that the System was known for its bright alternatives.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Luan handed Alex the cue ball to place wherever he pleased. He pocketed one ball, then set up another safety shot to block the eight-ball from its nearest pocket. Unless Luan was a magician, he wouldn’t get a run-out to finish the game on his next turn.

  Wisely, Alex chose not to ask any more questions, hoping Luan would go easy on him. But when Luan finished his turn with a five-pocket run, those hopes were immediately crushed.

  “I told you I can smell fear, didn't I?”

  Alex stiffened as Luan thumbed his nose again, a playful scowl on his face. “And I’ve never smelled it as thick as when you sat across from Yuxuan or when you entered this bar and saw Anne. Which would make sense if you knew who those two were, but you claim you don’t. Alex, are you really normal?”

  Alex struggled not to wince.

  Yes. I am.

  But he was certain Luan’s nose couldn’t smell truth from a lie. He needed more if he wanted Luan to believe him.

  “No,” Alex admitted. “Not truly. Ever since I was young, I’ve had a… sort of sixth sense. I can tell when bad things will happen before they do. Or when a person is dangerous. That man… Yuxuan… I’ve never felt it so intensely as when I stared into his eyes.”

  Those blood red, demonic eyes. Alex grimaced and stopped his mind from wandering down a dark path. It wasn’t really what Luan wanted to know. Alex had somehow made it to the peak of Nightmare; of course he had inborn talents. Luan was probably curious about his affiliations, not about his dangersense. But he could just feign ignorance on that part.

  This… isn’t too risky, Alex reminded himself.

  He didn’t like letting people know about his trait, but Luan didn’t seem the type to talk and even if he spilled information, he didn’t have many allies to tell. The secret would likely die with him in South America, none the wiser.

  Alex pocketed his fifth cue ball and called, “middle pocket.” He shot the eight-ball in after it, gripping the cue stick tightly. He had to give up something in this exchange but telling anyone secrets he didn’t trust them with felt wrong. It made him want to scream.

  Forget the skill gap.

  Alex was going to take those two balls Luan had spotted him and shove them where the light didn’t reach. They were tied now, and he’d take this two-game handicap bullshit with glee. He would make the man eat his words with this next win. Dead currency or not, that money was his. He fucking swore it.

  “So,” Alex began as he set the rack for Luan, “there are twenty-three people here who are cooler than me, and they’re probably better at billiards, too.”

  It wasn’t a question, and the last part wasn’t the slightest bit true, but it was as clear an invitation as Alex would give. Luan had already opened the floodgate for politics. He would either state his reason for being here or he wouldn’t.

  “Mm.” The man grunted as if he didn’t disagree with the statement. “And I already know most of them. Or at least I don’t have trouble placing the factions of the ones I don’t. There are only two people here unfamiliar to me, and one of them hasn’t left the food hall since the gathering started! You don’t disrupt a man when he’s feasting.”

  Ah, him. Yeah, I’d imagine he’s still in there.

  Luan sighed. “To get to the point, I’m looking for allies. My clan is as old as the hills, but we’re much less established in today’s climate, which needs to change. No one really knows what the Integration will bring, and if I can’t find allies within the factions, then I’ll have to look outside.”

  Alex mulled that over for a second and, inwardly, found himself kind of impressed. Despite Luan’s gruff demeanor, his open-mindedness in seeking allies painted him as quite the forward thinker, not just by shifter standards.

  Alex lifted the wooden rack from the array of balls with a sly smirk. “Looking for me?”

  “Hah! Don’t flatter yourself, pup. You’re a long way from making something of yourself. Something that isn’t a corpse, at least! If you survive, then come find me. You’re good for a game of billiards, if not anything else! Though I’d like to see you try your hand at sinuca.”

  He barked some laughter at his insults, then quickly took his break shot. A few follow-up shots saw him pocket three solids before his turn ended. Perhaps he had some decency afterall, as he didn’t question deeper into what Alex had revealed.

  Luan’s mind for strategy was blunt, but Alex was starting to think it wasn’t that Luan was incapable of playing a smart game of billiards; he just didn’t care to. He didn’t need to, really, when his skills alone were enough to coast through this matchup.

  Brazil, huh. It’s a long way out just for a game of—

  Alex froze. He quickly smoothed the reaction over, taking his shot.

  ‘Just for a game of pool’ my ass. Fuck me, why didn’t I think about this more clearly?

  Just as Luan hoped, the terraformation had done well for the Maned Wolves. In fact, it had done a little too well. They’d received the kind of fortune that got the whole world looking at your territory. And because of it, their eradication had been a ruthless and efficient slaughter. Over the course of a week, a shifter clan of ancient roots had been completely wiped out. With no survivors.

  Luan wasn’t weak; Alex knew that. His reputation had grown so much by that time that the Maned Wolves couldn’t be ignored by greater factions. Even when facing overwhelming force on all sides and dealing with internal friction within his clan—even when he’d had so few allies to his name—Luan had managed to hold out for an entire week. From that perspective, a week was an astounding amount of time.

  By the end of that week, the clan’s disappearance couldn’t be quietly swept under the rug like its eradicators hoped. It became known that something valuable had been found in their territory, even if what it was didn’t make the rounds until much later. But if Alex wanted the Integration to go his way…

  No, that’s thinking too far. I’m too weak to be considering something on that scale.

  More relevantly, Luan was also in the Misting Valleys zone of Nightmare. And there seemed to be some history between him and Anne.

  “How about a bet,” Alex said.

  “A bet? You act like my ten bill is worth nothi—”

  “If you win this game,” he interrupted, “I’ll seek you out after Nightmare, and I’ll bring a gift equal to the entire fortune of your clan.”

  “Hah! And where—”

  “But if I win, you’ll come visit me after the next Scenario and help with a task of my choosing.”

  Luan paused, then growled, a low pitch rising in his throat with a furious temper. “I do not take disrespect lightly, pup. Do not interrupt your betters. You can take your shoddy bet and shove it up—”

  “I swear these terms on my true name.”

  Luan stopped cold at the mention. His expression was heedful, and Alex simply gestured to the table, as if to say they should let that decide who was whose better. You did not challenge a shifter’s authority, he knew. Not if you wanted to survive. But there was no way around it if you wanted them to follow your commands.

  “You’re a wolf in sheep's clothing. I hope you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then I’ll swear on mine as well,” he growled, “I hope you have the skills to back this up, because I’m not going easy anymore.”

  Yeah, I know.

  Personally, Alex would’ve likened himself to a sheep in wolf's garb, but he didn’t bother with the correction. Luan calling him a wolf was either an acknowledgment of high respect or a sign of extreme distaste, and he didn’t care which. Both were equally dangerous.

  But if you risk nothing, you gain nothing. It was the way of the house. Alex turned his attention back to the game.

  This game had been Luan’s turn to break, and after Alex had controlled the pace of the last game by creating a cluster, the man made sure to hit his break shot hard, spreading both solids and stripes to the far corners of the table. It would be hard for Alex to slow the game at this point with his safety shots.

  The arrangement benefited Luan more since he was a far more accurate shot than Alex. Given that the man just spent his last turn dealing with the only real clusters he had, he was a straight five-ball run from ending this game. Something he was no doubt capable of once it became his turn.

  Thanks to his handicap, Alex was also a five-ball run away from the same, but that didn’t carry the same weight for him as it did for Luan.

  Once, when Alex hadn’t been so rusty, perhaps he might’ve gone for it anyway. Yet, although his mind was sharper now, his muscle-memory didn’t know the game the way his eyes did. He could see countless routes to his victory, but he knew that he would take a miss somewhere before that fifth shot.

  No, if he wanted to make certain he didn’t flub any shots, he would have to clear one end of the table and then the other. And so, that’s what he did, starting with the far end.

  Alex coated his cue tip in chalk, positioned himself, lined his shot, and then took it. He sank two balls consecutively, the second with a carom shot that inadvertently pocketed one of Luan’s balls, making things easier for the man.

  Oops.

  Never one to be defeated by mindset, Alex still attempted his five-ball run-out. He took a bank shot that ricocheted off two cushions and… surprisingly, made contact. He watched pensively, as his striped ball rolled slowly… ever so slowly towards the far corner. And then it did something magical. It went in.

  Wait… maybe I can actually—oh.

  He flubbed his next shot.

  “Hah!” Luan exclaimed. “Scared me for a second there. Though… I can’t help feeling a little disappointed. You do realize this is my win now, right?”

  He pocketed his ball as he said it.

  “All that talk about a wolf in sheep’s… I’m feeling kind of embarrassed that I said that now.”

  Another ball went down. Thanks to Alex’s earlier aid, Luan only had three more to go. And damn, did he know how to trash talk.

  “Hell, what does a human know about true names anyway? If you spat that out just because you heard it somewhere, then be careful where you use it. Fae don’t take kindly to the mention.”

  Alex watched in slow motion as Luan’s cue tip collided with the ball. He replayed the memory with torturous detail as the man scored once again. He continued until the timing of the strike was deeply ingrained in his mind.

  “And just because—”

  “I know where your ancestors hid the burial grounds,” Alex said.

  Cli—clink!

  Silence passed between them as the ball’s momentum died only a few feet from where the cue tip whiffed it.

  Luan draped his hand tiredly over his face. Alex expected him to be angry or to react with hostile suspicion. Neither was ideal, but this was the only way he could see himself winning. It was worth whatever hard feelings and attention it might’ve brought.

  Instead, Luan muttered, “Time out,” under his breath and approached the bar.

  “No, the whole bottle, please.”

  When he returned, he met Alex’s gaze with hard eyes. “Normal my ass. How the hell do you know about that?”

  “You had your time for questions,” Alex said, gesturing to the cue stick. “And how I know doesn’t matter. What matters is how this information can benefit you. I know the importance of true names, so believe me, when I swear on my name again. It will benefit you.”

  Luan frowned, took another swig, then sighed. “You still have to win first.”

  Although he’d said that, Alex noted that Luan hadn’t timed back in yet so he could win. They both looked at the billiards table, then at each other with an expression that cut through the bullshit.

  “Hah…” Luan sighed. “Looks like it’s a tie then.”

  “A tie?” Alex sputtered. “How do you expect to—”

  He was interrupted as Luan’s gruff hand slapped the high-top table. He grabbed his ten-dollar bill and shoved it into his pocket.

  “I concede the bet,” he said, “But don’t think you can take my mone—”

  His words cut off as he suddenly vanished.

  Your Queue to meet with the Constellations has moved up!

  6/6

  Expected wait time: 41 minutes.

  Alex sighed. Then he grabbed his own two dollars and change from the table, returning it to his inventory. He tried to put the table in there as well, but it didn’t work, naturally.

  How unsatisfying.

  No, he won where it mattered. Never mind the money.

  He walked up to the bar, absently watching the football match that played on the screen. He picked up his whiskey-orange juice, sloshing the stuff, wondering why he’d ever asked for another glass.

  “You look exhausted, sir,” The bartender said.

  “Ah, yeah… it’s just been one thing after another lately.”

  “Can I get you anything else to drink?”

  Alex looked around, searching for witnesses.

  “Please, just orange juice this time—”

  “LUAN! I SWEAR I’M—”

  Alex convulsed in a violent shiver as Anne, the Red Mistress appeared. She heaved in rage, her sharpened hand almost pricking his neck. His heart outright burst from his chest and that locked box in his mind fractured into thousandths.

  Anne looked around in confusion. “He’s… not here? Who are you?”

  “Who am… I?”

  Alex gripped his glass so tight he was afraid he might shatter it. Her crimson irises were excruciatingly detailed this close; so were the fangs that had sunk into Laura’s flesh. He hyperventilated—not from fear, not from simple rage—from something more primal, and he just couldn’t hold himself back. He stomped forward, towering over her. “You… have lived in my head for so many years…and you ask who I am?”

  He heaved for breath. The glass in his hand cracked.

  “Don’t bother with that weapon you’re hiding behind your back,” Anne said. “Don’t you know there’s a penalty for—”

  Alex moved. Anne didn’t bother dodging. He saw her eyes widen as she recognized his weapon. He splashed the vile concoction of whiskey and orange juice all over her immaculate hair and perfect red dress.

  Then spat on her for good measure—

  “Hello?” Anne asked, waving her hand in front of his face. “I asked who are you. And where is Luan! Are you going to answer my questions or are you just going to stand there catatonic? Ugh! You even spilled your drink on my bracelet! Oh, you are going to suffer for this…”

  Alex blinked, coming back to his senses. His hand tensed around the glass behind his back as he fantasized splashing the vile concoction on her. He bit his lip, quelling every urge and every knee-jerk reaction his body wanted to make. Then somehow, he erased the shakiness from his voice.

  “I-I’m terribly sorry,” he stammered. “I just—it was an accident Ma’am, you appeared so suddenly and I really didn’t mean—” A sudden surge of vomit rose in his throat. “I…didn’t mean any offense. Luan just got called by the Constellations, maybe if you wait…”

  “If I wait?!” Anne's eyes widened in outrage. “I’m already in a bad mood, darling. Where do you get off telling me what to do? Ahh… and I was fond of this bracelet! I’d kill you on the spot normally, but I guess you’ll just have to wait your turn…”

  Alex knew enough about her to know that wasn’t an empty threat. He squeezed his glass, cracks spreading across the surface as his voice came out dry. “My apologies, Ma’am. It was wrong of me to imply you were at fault. I was there when you disappeared and I should have remained vigilant for your reappearance. That bracelet does lovely on you. I don’t know what I can do to repay my clumsiness, but your appearance was just so striking that I—”

  “Oh, that’s enough,” Anne huffed her exasperation as she tossed her hair. “You won’t win my heart with shallow words darling, but I’ll call off your death for now. You call me Ma’am one more time, and your head’s back on the table.”

  Alex nodded gratitude, repeating her words in his head.

  Win my heart…

  There was shrill wine and a quiet pop as the glass outright shattered in his first. Anne frowned as she hopped onto the bar stool next to his to await Luan’s return. He kept it hidden behind his back, fixed in place. It was as though he were bound by chains just by being in her very presence.

  The thought struck again that this couldn’t be real. So many times, he’d wished to see her once more in the flesh, imagining what he’d do. So many nights, he’d wished she’d just go away and stop terrorizing him with her memory. How many times had he seen it? The three of them in that dark place, Laura’s neck contorting. So many, so much, so—

  And she has no clue…

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” Anne asked.

  Alex just put his left hand over his heart, lips and eyes wrinkling into a smile. “I apologize, I’m still just so taken with your beauty…”

  Anne rolled her eyes drearily. “Well, that’s just lovely, but I make pets out of little boys like you. If you don’t wish to become a thrall…”

  The shards of glass dug into Alex’s palm as he squeezed. His eyes felt like they were about to burst from their sockets as he struggled not to strangle her with them. He was a hundred percent certain that if he’d done what he’d imagined, he would've died for that petty vengeance. And that was nothing compared to what he really wanted to do to her.

  But as Anne wrinkled her nose at the scent of blood, Alex bowed once more and backed away. “I…would love to stay in your company, but I don’t wish to become a bother. If you’ll excuse me…”

  “Wait, I asked who are you. I don’t like it when people don’t answer my questions.”

  There were many things Alex wanted to say to that. Blood dripped from his shredded palm. A fire pulsed through his veins—a fire he’d forgotten—and he wanted nothing but to unleash it in a single vehement breath.

  He rubbed his head sheepishly. “Oh, I’m nobody worth remembering.”