Abject terror filled him as he ran through the streets seeking her, listening for her voice.

Then he heard her: “Ren, this is a mistake.”

Irial moved through the streets toward her voice, and just outside her door, he stopped. Leslie’s brother stood with a gun barrel shoved into her side. Irial could smell it, the bitter tang of cold steel. Steel wouldn’t kill him, nor would the copper and lead of the bullets inside the weapon. They would hurt, but faeries—especially strong ones—healed from such things. Mortals didn’t. Leslie wouldn’t.

If she were fey, he could safely pull her out of reach. If she were fey, she’d likely heal from a gunshot. She wasn’t.

Should’ve killed the boy then. He had watched over her, had guards at the ready, yet Ren had escorted her away. If I’d have killed him then… Irial winced at the thought of Niall’s pain—at our pain—if Leslie was hurt by his prior decision to let Ren live.

“I’ll remedy that mistake,” Irial murmured.

Leslie’s hand shook so much that she dropped the key.

Ren smacked her with one hand while keeping the gun steadily pressed into her side. “Pick it up. Don’t try anything, Les. Really.”

“I don’t know how you think this is going to work.” She snatched up her keys. “You think my ex is going to just show up?”

Ren gave her an unreadable look. “No. I think you’re going to find a way to reach him or one of them—I don’t care which of them—and until one of them comes through your door, we’ll sit in your dive of an apartment and wait.”

She shoved the key in the lock and glared at him. “Then prepare to wait because unlike you I don’t sacrifice other people to protect myself.”

A look of what seemed like regret crossed his face, but it passed in a breath. “We all do what we have to.”

Leslie opened the door, and for a brief moment as she stepped inside the building, the gun wasn’t against her. It didn’t last long enough to be of use.

She jumped as Ren closed the building door.

He gestured with the gun. “Up.”

“If I had said the word, he would’ve killed you,” Leslie said.

Ren followed her up the stairs. “Why didn’t you?”

“I’m not sure, Ren.” She paused on the last stair and glanced back at him. “Because real family protects each other?”

Could I push him down the stairs? Am I fast enough to get away while he falls? Letting him inside her apartment seemed like a sure way to be trapped. He’ll sleep, though. She thought about it, escaping while he slept, but then just as quickly thought about him jacked up and paranoid. He was terrible when he was strung out.

She shoved as hard as she could with both hands and then she ran.

“Bitch!” Ren cursed and stumbled.

“Pleasepleaseplease.” She jammed the key into her apartment door and slammed it behind her. She threw the bolt with a shaking hand, and then retreated farther into the apartment.

She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t be sure whether he’d shoot through the door. She couldn’t think beyond the fear wrapped around her.

Irial. She started to speak as they once had, but their metaphysical bond was gone—burned away by her own choice.

This isn’t a faery matter.

But it was. If Ren was looking for Irial, if he was looking for Niall, for Gabriel, for her Dark Court family, it did concern them. She pulled out her phone and pressed the button she’d programmed but never dialed, closed her eyes, and waited.

“Leslie.” Relief laced Irial’s voice. “Are you…safe?”

“Did you see him?” she started, and then quickly added, “Don’t come here!”

“Where are you?”

“My apartment,” she said.

“Alone?”

“I am the only one inside my apartment.” She shivered. His voice made her want to cry, even now. Especially now. He was every monstrous thing she shouldn’t miss, every nightmare she shouldn’t crave.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, as if he could see. Memories of the way he’d held her when she wept came flooding back. “No,” she whispered.

“Stay inside. I’ll fix this.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. Hearing his kindness and his darkness made her miss him as intensely as she had those first days after their bond was severed. “Don’t come. He wants to hurt you. Someone told him about you, about faeries. He’s here to…he says he’d let you pay more for his silence, but you can’t trust him. You can’t…and I can’t…if you were hurt, if Niall…”

Irial sighed. “My beautiful Shadow Girl…no mortal will hurt me or our Niall. I promise.”

A sob escaped her lips. “Ren’s in my building. He has a gun. I should call the police. I couldn’t…if you were hurt…I just…I don’t want him to ever hurt you, either of you. Neither of you can come in here. Someone else…I can’t ask anyone else to either. I just—”

“Hush, now,” Irial soothed. “I’ll stay exactly where I am. This will be fixed, and neither I nor Niall will be injured.”

“Promise?”

“We will not be injured by Ren, and I won’t move a step. I promise.” Irial’s voice was the same comforting croon that had kept her steady when she felt the horrible emotions that he had once funneled through her body.