Page 7 of Dark Night of the Soul

“You’re planning,” she said.

I didn’t deny it. The evidence was in my hand. And Silas’s. She looked at me then. Her gaze was clear, focused, steady. Her expression said she wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Sebastian is planning to use me to get to you. To get you to bend,” she said.

“He can try.” My voice was short, clipped.

“He wouldn’t threaten you with me unless he thought it would work.” Her voice was cool, calm. Even though she had limited interaction with Sebastian, she understood how he operated.

“I’m not trading you for the Brotherhood.”

“No, I don’t expect you would.” There was an edge to her voice. One I hadn’t heard in a long time. “What I do expect is that you’ll go willingly if you think it keeps me out of his hands.”

“I’m not.”

The lie sat heavy on my tongue.

Because I knew myself. Knew the line I would cross if it meant keeping her alive. I’d crossed darker lines for less. The only difference now was that she saw it, too.

That didn’t make her weak.

It made her dangerous.

Her expression said otherwise. “I don’t want you to decide what I’m willing to lose.”

“Anna—”

“I faced down Lucifer. Sebastian is a cakewalk. I’ll be ready.”

We stared at each other, the truth settling between us. Her mind was loud with her decision and her refusal to back down. Still, her bold confidence was one I didn’t expect. She brushed past me, heading through to the kitchen. I knew where she was going without having to ask her.

She was coiled tight like a viper ready to strike, and she needed to work it off.

But I wasn’t sure anything could prepare me—us—for what was coming.

Sebastian Crane knew me too well. He knew I wouldn’t come willingly. Which meant he wouldn’t ask.

I understood something else with brutal clarity.

The Brotherhood wasn’t coming to negotiate.

They were coming to collect.

Chapter 4 | Anna

I banged through the door of the workout room. Ophelia was there doing yoga. Eyes closed as she held the Warrior I pose.

I stomped around her and headed for the punching bag, my hands in fists. I took one punch at it. And then stopped.

The last time I took out my anger on the punching bag, I shredded my knuckles. I looked down at them now. The scars were still there. Faint. Silver. But there.

I flexed my fingers, took a deep, grounding breath.

“Oh, hey, Anna. All that slamming and stomping, I thought you were Kincade.”

Funny girl.

There was humor in her voice as she said it. I glanced over to see her moving into the next position. Reverse Warrior.