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River swings around, caging me between his solid chest and the hard wall. My eyes widen as he lowers his head toward mine. For a second, I think he’s about to kiss me, and if he does, I will slap him.

“Of all the inopportune times to make a move, reaper,” I hiss.

“Baby, don’t flatter yourself,” he says into my ear. “Take this. Don’t let them know you have it. You’ll have the upper hand.”

He places a dagger into my palm, and if we weren’t moments away from a fight, I’d turn fifty shades of red at my miscalculation of River’s intentions.

I slip the blade into the back of the belt wrapped around the scraps barely covering my body and don’t miss the way River’s eyes rake down my chest. I flush under his heavy-lidded stare.

“What the hell is going on?” a voice booms around the room, and my body stiffens.

Luke.