Page 32 of Heart of Thieves

It’s Tomas Hildebard, one of Magnus St. James’s henchmen, who competed in and lost my tournament and whose corpse was found last week.

“I’ll get the other half to you within the fortnight!” Laurel’s father protests, sweat beading on his brow, cheeks going pale as he retreats, shaking, to the wall.

Hildebard massages the trigger. “You said that a month ago.”

“You never found her, though!” Laurel’s father says. “Your search was fruitless.”

“Our contract was for services rendered,” the second man barks. “We did not guarantee results.”

“I’ll get the money to you, I swear!”

Hildebard tsks. “Too late, my friend.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Laurel whispers, fists clenching. The two men go rigid as corpses as she seizes control. The jolt makes Hildebard’s finger twitch, and the gun goes off.

“No!” Laurel screams, shoving out of the closet as her father crumples.

She gapes as crimson pools at her feet, eyes wide, skin pale. Then she buckles to her knees, pressing his wound with desperate hands. But it is pointless. The bullet struck his heart.

Hildebard, suddenly released from her magic, bolts for the door. The second man chases after him, but Laurel raises a hand dripping with her father’s blood.

The man halts, stiff as rigor mortis.

Her tears flow freely. Silence fills the room as the man’s eyes bulge. His chest does not rise or fall, nor does his mouth open to gasp for air. His face turns crimson and then blue.

Not only has she stopped his movements, but she’s seized his lungs as well, just like she did to me in the street last night. Only this time, she doesn’t let up.

A moment later, he topples. He does not rise.

The secret fizzles away, and when I open my eyes, Laurel is watching me, tears filming on her lower lashes.

“My father was good.” Her voice cracks. “He never would have done such things if not for the influence of St. James’s men, manipulating him in his vulnerability.” She pauses, taking a shaking breath. “I wanted to give up after that, but the gods had shown me those men’s sins. Given me power to stop them.”

“Laurel . . . That’s . . . I . . .”

She presses a hand to my chest, directly over my heart. “I didn’t let my father’s death sidetrack me from the path the gods laid out for me. Don’t let Enzo hold you back from yours.”

It takes everything in me not to jerk away from her touch. “Thank you for your patience.”

“It is not I you need to thank,” she says. “Just make sure there are no more slipups.”

I allow my hands to settle on her lower back as though to pull her closer. “Of course.”

She tilts her head to meet my gaze, and the slightest smile curves her lips. Her eyes dart to my mouth.

I know what she wants. This is exactly how she looked at me that night I kissed her for the first time under the bioluminescent stars of my cave.

She wants reassurance. She wants safety. She wants promises.

And I need her to believe my lies.

So I dip my head to brush my lips to hers as dread sinks its fangs into my gut. She melts against me, arms twining around my neck.

Shame licks through me. I’ve lied with my words a thousand times. Wore disguises. Falsified smiles. But a kiss?

This is the sort of deception I always vowed I’d never stoop to.

The sort that would disgust Lola.