The shadow reached for the lamp, fumbling for a switch, but the touch of his fingers was enough to turn it on. I raised my sword, ready to cut him down.

“Finally,” he muttered again. “I was starting to think this was some sort of dungeon—”

A terrible suspicion filled my mind, causing me to pull my blow at the last second. Instead of ramming my sword into his back, I slammed the hilt into his shoulder, making him stagger forward. His knees hit the edge of my cot, and he landed face-first on the tangle of sheets. He flipped over just in time for me to press my sword up against his neck.

Felix blinked up at me.

I let out a breath, lowered my sword from his throat, and stepped back.

“Felix!” I hissed. “What are you doing here?”

He gave me a guilty look. “Um, well, you see, it’s actually a funny story—”

“It was my idea,” another voice said.

I whirled around. Devon stood at the top of the stairs, a sword strapped to his waist. He came down to the basement, his green gaze scanning over everything from Felix still sprawled on the cot to my piles of worn clothes to the small, pitiful knickknacks I’d packed into my suitcases. His face was neutral, so I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but anger spurted through me all the same. He didn’t get to see this. He didn’t get to see this part of me—the real me.

But I couldn’t exactly attack the guy I was supposed to protect, so I slid my sword back into its scabbard and leaned against the wall, as though I didn’t care what Devon thought about me and my things.

Still, I couldn’t help wondering why they were here. “What happened to the monster movie marathon?”

Felix winced. “Yeah, marathon might have been a bit of an exaggeration. It was more like ten minutes of slime action before we took one of the SUVs and followed you to the pawnshop. And then here.”

My eyes narrowed. “You followed me? Why?”

Felix looked at Devon, and I realized he was the ringleader of this little party.

For a moment, Devon looked as guilty as Felix did before the emotion melted into stubborn determination. “Because I wanted to. You know everything there is to know about me and Felix. Well, we wanted to know more about you. I wanted to know more about you.”

“Why?” I sniped. “Grant’s reports weren’t enough?”

His mouth tightened.

More anger sizzled through me. I was the one who broke into people’s homes. I was the one who rifled through their most prized possessions. I was the one who saw the dirty little secrets they wanted to keep hidden in the bottom of their hearts.

I didn’t like it now that it had happened to me.

I threw my hands out wide. “Well, then, take a good long look around,” I sniped. “Because this is the life of Lila Merriweather. And ain’t it grand?”

Neither one of them said anything. We could all hear the bitterness in my voice.

But Felix, being Felix, couldn’t be quiet for long. “So what were you doing down here?”

“Packing up the rest of my stuff,” I said, my tone tight and clipped.

“How long have you been living down here?” Devon asked. “Since your mom died?”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t even look at him.

He sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Lila. I just wanted to see where you lived. What it was like. What you were really like.”

Once again, his green gaze swept over the small cot, the empty metal rack, the worn-out suitcases that I was still hoping to stuff a few more ragged things into. He saw everything—he saw too damn much.

“It’s . . . smaller than I thought it would be,” he said in a kind voice.

“Well, I think that it’s, uh, cozy,” Felix chimed in, snapping his fingers. “Yes! Cozy is definitely the word for it.”

He smiled at me, but I stared at Devon, watching the play of emotions across his face.

“Cozy? I think you mean craptastic. We don’t all get to live in mansions,” I snapped.

“I know that,” Devon snapped back, realizing I was really talking to him. “I just . . .”

“You just what?”

“I’m just . . . sorry for you,” he said. “That you had to live like this. That you didn’t have anyone to look out for you. That you didn’t have anyone to take care of you.”

White-hot rage roared through me. If there was one thing I didn’t want, it was his pity. Sometimes, I thought pity was the most heartless thing in the world. All it did was make people feel superior to you, happy, safe, and smug in the knowledge that someone had it worse than they did.

Yeah, my life hadn’t exactly been great since my mom had died. Okay, okay, so it had sucked out loud, but I’d managed. I’d survived in my own way on my own terms. I’d certainly done better than Devon, Felix, or anyone else in the whole stupid Sinclair Family would have.

But here Devon was all the same, giving me a pitying look, like I was an unwanted puppy someone had kicked to the curb. Like I was the saddest thing ever.

“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me,” I snarled. “It’s not much, but at least I earned it. What have you ever done but live the perfect little life?”

“I’m sorry,” Devon repeated. “I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“Of course not,” I cut him off. “Because you’re a good guy, a good soldier, a good son, and you never upset anyone, right? Grant was right about you. Everyone loves you, and you have everything so damn easy, don’t you? What have you ever had to work for in your entire life? I’m guessing the answer is nothing.”