But how could she convince people like Senna and Clarion that he was a different man? Most people hated without cause. Without reason. It was irrational jealousy, and if she knew anything about people like that, it was that they couldn’t be reasoned with.

Their hatred was blind, and all consuming.

Even if Darling did something good, they would twist it to make it seem evil or wrong or self-serving.

Words wouldn’t convince them. Only actions would. And she’d have to move fast to keep the Resistance from building up again and coming after him, night and day. Since she wasn’t there to lead it, she didn’t know who was left. But someone would come forward. They always did. And Senna had told her that she was documenting Darling’s “crimes.” Which meant the Resistance was still there. Still plotting the downfall of the House of Cruel.

Fear for Darling consumed her. How could she protect him from his own people?

And that irony wasn’t lost on her. Here she was, the former leader of the Resistance that had done its best to destroy the Cruel line and all its members, and all she wanted to do was ensure his safety. That he had a long reign.

Her father was most likely rolling in his grave.

But as she traced Darling’s scars, she made a silent vow. No one would ever again hurt him on her watch. Even if he never loved her again, she would die to protect him.

And as that thought finished, a bad feeling came over her. It was just like the one she’d gotten right before her father had died. The one she’d had that last night she’d spent with Kere.

Something evil was coming for them, and it was going to be out for their blood.

11

Four days later

Her thoughts drifting, Zarya idly brushed her hand through the tangles of Darling’s auburn hair. Not long after daybreak, he’d finally fallen asleep with his body between her legs and his head on her stomach. She was exhausted too, but she’d promised him that she wouldn’t sleep while he did.

He was so paranoid about attacks…

Not that she blamed him given his family and personal history—what she’d learned from Maris during a small break yesterday was that Arturo would often have someone storm into Darling’s room at odd hours of the night or early morning to make sure he was alone in his bed. Sometimes they’d allow him to go back to sleep, and others…

They’d cuff his hands behind his back and drag him out of his room for his uncle to beat while in the throes of a drunken rage. Arturo had taken issue with not only Darling’s confessed homosexuality, but also because he looked, moved, and sounded like his father, whom Arturo had always hated. And then there was the small matter that both Darling and his younger brother were a constant reminder that Drux had been able to father sons while Arturo had only daughters.