“Grant says he can’t find any record of where you’ve been living,” Devon said. “No apartments, no hotels, nothing.”

So Claudia hadn’t just taken Mo at his word; she’d had Grant investigate me. Well, that was smart of her. I wondered what Grant had managed to uncover, and what he and Claudia had thought about it, but I had no way of knowing. Apparently, it hadn’t been bad enough to make her reconsider her plan to strong-arm me into protecting Devon.

“Grant says that you’re not in the foster care system, either. What happened to your parents?” Devon asked, seeming genuinely curious.

I shrugged again. “My dad was never in the picture. He died before I was born.”

Which was one of the reasons my mom had left town, not that I was going to tell Devon that or any more about myself than absolutely necessary.

“And your mom?”

“She died, too.”

He must have heard the cold chill in my voice that told him to drop it because he changed the subject. “You should leave. Get out of here. While you still can.”

“What do you mean by that?”

He sighed. “You should take off, Lila. Forget about staying here. Forget about the Family. Forget about me.”

And I realized what he was really saying. “You don’t like me being your bodyguard.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard. I can take care of myself,” he said in a stiff voice.

“But you don’t have a Talent,” I pointed out, not trying to be cruel, but just stating the obvious. “You don’t have any magic. And most everyone else in all the other Families does. Surely, you can understand why your mom would want you to be protected.”

“I can take care of myself,” he snapped. “I don’t need magic to knock the sneer off Blake Draconi’s face.”

No, he didn’t. Not with the way he’d been waling on the punching bag earlier.

My eyes narrowed. “Is it because I’m a girl? Is being protected by a chick some threat to your precious manhood ? Because if that’s the case, then you need to get over yourself, dude.”

“It’s not because you’re a girl,” he snapped again. “I’m not some sexist pig. Not like Blake.”

I wouldn’t call Blake a pig so much as a monster, but I got his point.

“So what is it then? Are you pissed because I got Blake to back off and you didn’t? Because there was nothing you could have done. If you had tried, one of the Draconis would have skewered Felix with his sword. Grant, too. The only reason they didn’t come after me was because they didn’t know me. Because Blake is a sexist pig, and they didn’t realize that I was a threat.”

“You’re not the threat.” He sighed again. “I am.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering me, Devon surged to his feet before crushing the water bottle in his hand, turning, and hurling it over at the scaffolding. The bottle hit the heavy bag and bounced off. Devon gave the crumpled plastic a disgusted look.

I got to my feet. “What’s got you so upset?”

He snorted. “You never give up, do you? You’re as bad as Felix, always trying to get me to talk about things.”

“In this case, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Devon whirled around, his eyes glinting with anger. “Do you think I want you here?” he growled. “Do you think I want you to die for me like Ashley did? And all the others before her?”

I couldn’t have been more surprised than if he had slapped me across the face. The words hung in the air like the fireflies around us, winking on and off and bringing a fresh flare of pain with every bright burst of light. Devon let out a bitter laugh, and I thought of all the guilt, grief, and sorrow I’d seen in his heart. And I realized that it was for them—Ashley, his other bodyguards, all the people who’d died protecting him over the years.

Including my mom.

“And do you know what the sad part is?” he growled again. “I really can do it. I really can take care of myself. I’m as good with my fists and a sword as any of the guards. That’s why my dad made me the bruiser and put me in charge of the guards before he died. I can beat anyone in the Family in a fight. Well, except maybe you.”

I started to make some snide comment about his faint praise of my skills, but I decided to let it slide. This one time.

“So what’s the problem?”

“My mom. If she would just let me—” He clamped his lips together, as if he was about to tell me something he shouldn’t.

“If she would just let you what?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Forget it.”

Devon paced around the roof before turning back to me. He sighed, and all of the anger leaked out of his body, like a balloon slowly losing air.

“I don’t care what my mom told you or promised you or threatened you with,” he said. “I’ll take care of it. I swear. But you need to leave now before it’s too late. Please, Lila? Please just leave. Before I get you killed.”

Devon gave me a final haunted, wounded look before unlocking the door, stepping through to the other side, and disappearing into the dark of the mansion.

I stayed on the roof, thinking about Devon’s words and all the emotions flashing in his eyes. Anger. Guilt. Grief. Fear.

But once again, that fear wasn’t for himself—it was for me. He truly meant what he’d said. He wanted me to leave because he really thought I would get killed being his bodyguard.