“What do you mean?”

He gave me an appraising look. “I’ve been watching you ever since you joined the Sinclairs. You’re smart. Clever. You always have something up your sleeve. So why did you stop? Why are you giving up?”

I arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say that stabbing you, freeing Devon, and running away was giving up. More like totally embarrassing for you, that you couldn’t keep two people prisoner for more than, like, an hour. Not quite the criminal mastermind, huh, Grant?”

One of the guards snickered. Grant shot him an evil glare, and the other man started coughing, trying to hide his laughter. But it was enough to push Grant over the edge.

“You know what, Lila?” he growled. “I’m going to cut your tongue out—before I kill you.”

Grant tightened his grip on his sword, and then he did the one thing I’d been hoping he would all along—he stepped past the center stone where I’d put the ring.

So did the other two men. Together, the three of them crested the top of the bridge and started down the far side, heading toward us.

Devon moved to let me go and put himself between me and our enemies, but I tightened my grip on his hand.

“Stop,” I said. “And stand very, very still.”

Devon frowned, but he did as I asked.

Grant slashed his sword through the air. Behind him, the other two men did the same thing, all of them trying to be as menacing as possible. I rolled my eyes. Wasn’t that cute.

Still, despite the fact that they were seconds away from killing us, I couldn’t help laughing. Despite the pain pulsing through my body, the blood oozing out of my wounds, my fear, despite everything—I laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Grant growled.

“Nothing much,” I said. “I was just thinking about when you came to get me from school and took me up to the Sinclair mansion that first day. That, and all the other times we’ve ridden around town. Every time you come down here, you always go across this bridge.”

“What does that matter?” Grant snapped. “It’s the quickest way through town.”

I grinned at him. “It matters because you forgot to pay the lochness toll—again.”

He frowned, wondering what I was talking about. But the guards knew. One of them cursed and turned around, staring at the smooth stone in the middle of the bridge. Even as he ran back toward the stone, he dug in his pockets, trying to find a few coins or bills, something, anything, that would save him.

But it was too late.

A long, black tentacle shot up out of the dark surface of the river, spraying water everywhere. Devon gasped. Yeah, I did, too.

The tentacle hovered in the air over the bridge, undulating back and forth like a cobra about to strike.

And then it did.

The tentacle snapped down and coiled around the first guard, the one who’d been rushing to pay the toll. The man was so startled that he lost his grip on his sword, the only thing that might have helped him. He screamed and screamed, beating at the wet tentacle with his fists, but even his strength Talent was no match for the lochness. The tentacle raised the guard high into the air over the bridge, then dragged him down into the river below.

Silence.

As quickly as the tentacle sank down beneath the water, another jetted right back up again. The second man clutched his sword. I thought he might stand and try to fight the lochness, but he turned and started running toward the far side of the bridge, where Devon and I were standing.

But Grant didn’t give him the chance to get here.

He waited until the man was in range, then slashed his sword across his henchman’s chest. The guard fell to the cobblestones screaming, and the tentacle swooped down and scooped him up as well. Easy peasy. That man also disappeared into the river.

Grant whipped around and started running, trying to get away from the lochness. Beside me, Devon tightened his grip on the dagger I’d given him in the slaughterhouse, even though I doubted he had the strength left to wield the weapon.

“If he makes it, you’ll have to try to use your power on him. And if that doesn’t work, then you start running. Please—please do that for me.”

Devon gave me another stubborn look and shook his head. “Not without you.”

Grant kept racing toward us, moving as fast as he could, his wing tips smack-smack-smacking against the cobblestones.

“You bitch!” he screamed again. “You’re going to pay for this!”

I didn’t respond, wondering if he was actually going to escape the lochness’s wrath after all. I kept looking for the creature, or at least its tentacle, but saw nothing. No tentacle, no sprays of water, nothing to indicate that the lochness was still lurking in the river below.

Grant risked a glance over his shoulder, but the bridge was empty now. He turned back around and gave me a smug look. “Looks like my men paid the toll for me. So what are you going to do now, Lila?”

My heart sank because I didn’t have an answer. This—this had been my plan. The old traditions. The customs that my mom had drilled into my head. The ones that I’d always respected and enjoyed following. But right now, it didn’t look like they were going to be enough to save us.

Devon tensed, waiting for Grant to get in range. No matter what happened, Devon was going to stand by my side and defend me to his dying breath. That meant more to me than just about anything.

But he didn’t have to.

Grant stepped off the bridge, putting one foot onto the street. Just as his second foot was about to touch down, a tentacle shot out of the shadows, slithered across the cobblestones, and wrapped itself around his ankle.