It’s impossible.

Eterran shoved a memory at me—Burke’s demon, rage and triumph burning in his stare as he drew his arm back, glowing talons aimed for my chest. In his other hand, he held the Vh’alyir Amulet.

It is possible.

I opened my eyes. The punching bag swayed like a pendulum, and I slowed my breathing to match its measured rhythm.

You’ll betray me, Eterran. You hate me.

His thoughts whirled in an ebony maelstrom, fueled by a driving, burning need that eclipsed even the blackest despair.

You want to survive, he whispered inside me. Beneath your guilt and self-loathing and blind determination to protect your friends, you want to live as much as I do.

My chest tightened until I couldn’t take a full breath. Tori’s message glowed like a beacon. She didn’t know me—the real me, the person I’d lost when I’d let a demon into my body—but maybe we could … maybe …

No. It was impossible.

Yet, by most standards, she’d already accomplished several impossible feats. She was fighting for me right now. How could I give up when she was fighting so hard?

Emotions crashed over me like a wave—all the anger and hurt and betrayal flooding through me again. I flung my fist out. As it crashed into the punching bag, my fury sparked and died. My despair swelled and faded. My pain struck and retreated.

Eterran’s fury rose and fell. His despair. His pain.

My fist hit the bag. My breath rushed in and out. The rhythm beat inside me, and Eterran’s thoughts turned, aligning with mine. We focused on the bag. On the strike. On the impact of knuckles against leather.

Emotions calmed. Our minds steadied. Our thoughts flickered back and forth, debate, ideas, rebuttals, decisions.

Finally, decisions.

I pivoted away from the punching bag. Calm. Focused. Aligned. My concentration turned inward, slipping into the midst of power I could never fully embrace—not when part of my consciousness was always, always occupied by fear of the demon inside me and what he might do.

Spinning on my heel, I slashed my hand sideways, cutting across nothing. The air rippled like a blade.

The bottom half of the punching bag crashed to the floor, sand spilling down. The top half swung from the chain, barely disturbed by the razor blade of air that had cut cleanly through the leather.

Eterran and I studied the ruined bag.

I walked away. After a quick shower, I hastened up the stairs, a towel around my waist and my phone in hand. As I passed the living room, I glanced at the man lounging on the sofa.

Girard, my current babysitter, looked from the TV to me. Darius had ensured I wouldn’t be alone at night until Aaron and Tori returned. He, Girard, and Alistair—the only ones besides Aaron, Kai, and Tori who knew my secret—were taking turns watching over me.

“How’re you doing?” Girard asked, concern softening his eyes—and grief.

He was already grieving for me and I wasn’t even dead yet.

“Fine,” I said, ignoring the way his gaze flicked over my scars. I rarely let others see them. “Heading to bed.”

“Sure.”

I continued up the stairs and into my room. Locking the door, I pulled my towel off and dressed in combat gear. Sliding on my long gloves with metal-plated knuckles and elbows, I paused to listen. The TV rumbled through the floor.

Tori’s message filled my phone’s screen when I unlocked it, and my throat tightened. I selected a different name from my list of contacts, typed out a quick message, and hit send.

Will she take the bait?

We’ll find out.

I walked to my bedroom window. Careful to steady the panel so it wouldn’t make noise, I slid it open and popped out the screen.

The two-story drop was no issue—I didn’t even need the wind to cushion my fall. Cold air filled my lungs as I breathed deep. Determination was a fire in my chest, chasing away the despair that had hung over me since my near destruction at Varvara’s hands.

“Will this work?” I murmured to the silent night. “Robin won’t give up answers easily.”

It will take us both.

I nodded. Both of us. Aside from brief moments during combat, we hadn’t worked together since I’d escaped the commune eight years ago—since I’d doomed my family to death.

As I strode away from the house, I hoped I wasn’t about to repeat the worst mistake I’d ever made.

Chapter Twenty

I almost, almost got to fly to Salt Lake City in the Yamada Syndicate’s fancy private jet. But some asshole executive who outranked Makiko decided his desire to go golfing in Bermuda was more important, and he’d commissioned the jet right out from under her.

So instead of traveling in luxurious, criminally funded style, Aaron rented a trailer for Kai’s and Makiko’s motorcycles and hitched it to his SUV, and we’d set out on the fourteen-hour drive across Oregon, through the southern tip of Idaho, and down into Utah.

Even with the delays caused by sourcing and picking up a trailer, we’d gotten on the road half an hour earlier than Blake. He hadn’t been pleased to find his jeep had a newly flat tire—but as I’d assured him with earnest sympathy, I had no idea what had happened to his tire. Not me.

He may or may not have bought my act.

I slept most of the night, using Justin’s, Kai’s, and Aaron’s shoulders as pillows whenever one of them was lucky enough to sit beside me in the cramped backseat.

Ten hours later, at our pitstop in Twin Falls, Idaho, I took the wheel. The driving was easy, if tedious. The road was straight and the scenery as flat and featureless as the Canadian prairies. Blake had caught up to us, and with his jeep speeding along in front of me, all I had to do was play follow-the-leader.

An hour in, I was actually missing the nausea-inducing turns from my drive through the Oregon Coast Range.

A vaguely familiar pop song trickled from the car speakers, drowned out by Aaron’s low snoring. Kai was in the back, while Justin was taking a turn driving Blake’s jeep so the terramage could catch some shuteye.

Makiko sat in the passenger seat beside me, her short legs stretched to the max and her eyes half-lidded with weariness.

I wanted to resent her presence. Okay, yes, I did resent her, but not as much as usual. She hadn’t complained once during the long hours in the SUV. No bossy commands or scathing sneers, and she’d even offered to take a driving shift.

When she wasn’t ruining Kai’s life, she was almost tolerable.

“So,” I said in a low voice. “Your plan here is to help us un-demon-mage Ezra, and that way Kai can’t be implicated in a demon-mage coverup?”

“Yes. As I already explained.”

“You could’ve just had Ezra killed instead,” I pointed out coolly. “That’s the crime-family way of things, isn’t it?”

She straightened in her seat, shooting me a wintry stare. “Demon mages rarely die without a fight. An assassination could still reveal Ezra as a demon mage, and the MPD would investigate.”

I grunted. “And here I thought there might be a smidge of compassion in your black soul.”

Her expression hardened. “And you’re a perfect angel, aren’t you, Tori? You’ve never had to make hard decisions or hurt your loved ones to protect them.”

I couldn’t quite hold back my flinch. “I’m not forcing anyone to leave their family and live a complete lie.”

“But you would if that was the only way to save their life,” she retorted matter-of-factly. “Don’t bother denying it. You’re no different from me.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

“You snuck into LA and broke into an MPD precinct, endangering your life, Kai’s life, and your guild. Was that not to save a friend? You’d do worse than that to save the man you love—like this.” She gestured at the highway stretching away toward the horizon.

“You’re not saving Kai. You just want him for yourself.”

“While you were demolishing that MPD precinct, I was in LA to plead for Kai’s life.”

My gaze snapped to her.

“It had just gotten back to the family that he was seeing another woman. The oyabun called me and told me he was going to give the order.”

“What order?”

“Kai’s execution.” She exhaled harshly. “He told me as a courtesy, since Kai is my betrothed. I rushed to LA to convince him to give Kai another chance.”

A memory flashed—Kai telling me about the anonymous text message he’d received, warning him that “this game” was over.

“You … convinced him?”

“I swore that Kai was worth far more than an execution, and that he could be redeemed. The oyabun had serious doubts.” She stared out the windshield. “Then Kai showed up in LA, and the oyabun decided to give me the chance to prove I’m right about Kai. If I fail, I’ll prove the oyabun right instead, and he’ll give the order.”

As the flat farmland bordering the road shifted from snow-dusted brown to snow-dusted yellow then back to brown, I snuck another glance at Makiko, surprised by the unhappy quirk to her small mouth.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said quietly. “You can see he’s unhappy, and you think, ‘What’s the point of saving his life if he’s just going to be miserable?’ But once he earns his place and the authority that comes with his position, he’ll find purpose again.”

“What if he doesn’t? What if he’s never happy there?”

“He will be.”

“How can you know that?”

She pressed her lips together. “Because he used to be happy with me.”

I forced my attention back to the road, my jaw clenched. The rumble of the tires across the cracked asphalt competed with the fuzzy radio in an annoying background buzz. I peeked in the rearview mirror, checking that my two male passengers were sleeping soundly.

“People grow,” I whispered. “They change. I haven’t known him as long as you have, but the Kai I know is too independent to ever be happy following someone else’s rules.”