Page 173 of Echoes of the Banshee

I’m ready to scream at her the second she wakes up. But Benson beats me to it.

“Thea!” he nearly shouts. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me your arm was broken?”

Thea glances down at her now-healed arm and gives him a small, sheepish smile.

“If you say ‘what broken arm,’ I swear I’ll kill you myself!” he roars. Guess he’s feeling better. He buries her in a hug.

“That would kinda defeat the purpose of healing me,” she jokes, and hugs him back. “I’m glad you’re better.”

“You saved my life, I don’t kill you. We’re even,” Benson reasons. Thea’s laugh is light and my heart flutters. They’re okay. And suddenly I don’t feel like I’m suffocating anymore. Benson sinks onto his cot. Yelling at her must have worn him out.

Thea stands and stretches. I let myself admire her.

The ominous clicking of heels echoes down the tiled hallway.

Thea moves fast, curling beside Benson on the bed. His arms wrap around her as she rests her head on his shoulder.

The door swings open. Anita strides in, her expression a carefully crafted mask of concern. But it doesn’t fool me. Not with the way her eyes gleam, like she’s trying too hard to smother her satisfaction.

“Oh my god, Thea! Are you okay?” she exclaims, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. It grates on me. The way she wields concern like a weapon, every word sharpened to cut just right.

Thea doesn’t rise to it.

“I’m fine, Anita,” she replies flatly, her attention still focused on Benson.

Her hand drifts over his stomach. I know it’s just for show, but it still twists something inside me.

Anita falters for a heartbeat, her smile twitching.

“The school called my mom about the whole kidnapping situation,” she says, her eyes cutting toward Benson with thinly veiled disdain. “We were really concerned, you know? Told her how dangerous it was. Goblins. You have no business being involved in something like that.”

Thea barely seems to register her. Her hand runs through Benson’s green hair, casual and slow, like Anita’s not even worth looking at. Then she leans in and whispers something in his ear.

Benson grins and makes a playful biting motion. Thea giggles.

It’s honestly nauseating. But Anita is seething.

“Thea!” she whines. “Why would you get entangled with goblins? I hear you have all these favors. Does that mean you slept with all of them?”

“Are you serious right now?” Benson finally acknowledges her. “Do you know absolutely nothing about goblin culture?”

“The only thing I need to know is that you’re trouble,” Anita snaps. “You’re a smuggler, and you dragged her into your mess,” she hisses, turning to Thea. “You don’t get it, do you? He’s never going to care about you the way I do. A goblin can’t love you the way I could. I’m your family. Not him. I’ve always been here for you. I understand you. Why would you choose him over me? Don’t you love me?”

She looks so heartbroken I almost believe her.

“I don’t need you to save me from him, Anita,” Thea tells her dispassionately. “These goblins didn’t treat me any worse than witches have.”

Anita’s lips press into a thin line.

“You weren’t taken by witches!” she snaps, her voice rising. “You were taken by ugly chainborns who held you captive. Thank god your magic is weak, or you’d be in worse shape from that cuff Varik put on you.”

Thea’s head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing.

“Varik told us he was hired by a witch to try and scare me straight,” Thea says, her eyes watching Anita like a hawk. “But we haven’t told anyone his name.”

Like a mouse sensing the trap spring, Anita freezes; cornered, exposed. Her usual self-assured demeanor shatters as Ollin stands and begins to stalk toward her.

“I—I—Mom must have told me,” Anita stammers, her voice rising an octave, cracking under the weight of scrutiny. “The cops must have told her.”