Page 137 of Hellbound

“Tori is the only person in my life who doesn’t want something from me, and I won’t let Verinne turn her into a monster. She has a family, people who will miss her. She’s a good person who just made a mistake.”

“Oh, my leiah,” Vale replied with aching tenderness. “So are you.”

The road blurred through the sudden swell of tears. The sea of taillights ahead blinded her when she blinked. The cold, hard stone in her breast trembled and cracked.

She couldn’t dwell on Vale’s words. It sounded far too much like he cared for her, speaking so when he had nothing to gain. And after last night …

She had to think of Tori instead.

“She … she’s … my …” Marian could barely choke out words.

She’s my friend.

“Come back,” Vale said.

The sound wrapped itself around her torso and held tight. It compelled her to slam on the brakes and turn the car around.

No.

She gripped the steering wheel hard, the leather squeaking in her grip. Jaw set, she glanced at her nav as it alerted her to a faster route.

“Goodbye, Vale.”

Marian ended the call and flipped the turn signal on as she cut across traffic for the next exit.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Maybe—just maybe—you’ll live through this.

The front gates of Verinne’s Santa Monica mansion opened automatically when Marian pulled into the Argent’s driveway. While Vale’s home oozed money and eclectic tastes, the modern monstrosity at the end of the road was all black and glass and utterly soulless.

Marian had stepped out of the car and onto decomposed granite. She pocketed the keys, hoping that when this was all over, Tori would be able to drive away from it all.

Grit snuck into the holes of her worn-out sneakers as she crossed the driveway to the flat concrete courtyard, where two suited men in matching sunglasses stood with their hands clasped in front of them. Both watched Marian as she approached. One touched his ear, lips moving subtly as Marian ascended the shallow steps to the gargantuan frosted glass door in front of her.

One of the guards swung the door open and ushered her inside. A quick glance at the holster on his belt confirmed he was armed. Marian assumed the other was, too.

Her heart boomed in her breast as the chatter at the end of the hall grew louder. Verinne definitely wasn’t alone. The intense need to vomit told her there was more than one Argent on the premises, just as Vale warned.

The hallway transitioned into a spacious sitting area set against the backdrop of a rock garden and spindly cypress trees.

Half a dozen Argent sat scattered in dramatic-looking armchairs of matte black and chrome. The room fell silent as every head swiveled to face her. Their expressions ran the gamut from aloof curiosity to cold contempt.

Marian had never seen so many Argent in one place. She recognized half of them—they’d all paid her once to die for artifacts.

Everyone had a cocktail in hand. She’d walked in on a fucking party.

“Oh good, you made it.” Verinne’s laugh rang out from somewhere to Marian’s left. “Can I have Brock get you a drink? Some espresso, maybe?”

Her heart in her throat, Marian turned to find the Argent draped from head to toe in a beige linen power suit as she lounged in the corner of a white loveseat. She grinned at Marian with a smile so perfect and out of sync with the emptiness in her eyes, it shot past fake and landed in uncanny.

Tori sat across from her. A strip of duct tape covered her mouth. Her wrists were bound together in her lap by a zip tie. The traveler craned her head over her shoulder, revealing a split eyebrow and a smattering of fresh bruises. Her dark amber eyes widened, nostrils flared in terror. The tape muffled whatever she’d tried to scream.

Marian had to stop herself from sprinting to her.

But Verinne popped up from her seat, leaving Tori wriggling in hers as she descended the platform. Every staccato click of her heels echoed in the sparsely furnished room. The other Argent looked on in silence, each one a unique picture of beauty, youth, and apathy.

“Let her go.” The room mocked Marian with an echo of her trembling demand.