Monroe sits in the middle of the bench seat, and I’m grateful for that as Shiloh guides the vehicle out of the compound. For all her spikes, Monroe is far better at navigating Shiloh’s emotions without pissing her off. I’m not sure how she manages it, especially when she gets under my skin so intensely, but that comfort is what we need today.

I’m so busy running scenarios on how to provide that comfort, to support Shiloh, that I don’t realize what direction we’re headed in until Monroe tenses next to me. She speaks softly, but there’s an edge to her tone. “This isn’t the way out of Sabine Valley, love.”

I look around. She’s right. Instead of heading south and then east toward the highway, she’s gone north toward the river. Toward Amazon territory.

Shiloh’s got the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. “No. It’s not the way out of Sabine Valley.”

Monroe sucks in a breath as we cross the bridge. For once, she doesn’t seem able to ask the hard question, so I drop my hand to her thigh, squeeze, and do it for her. “Shiloh, where did you grow up?”

She still won’t look at me—at us. Several city blocks pass before she finally answers, so softly, I strain to hear her over the faint hum of the engine. “Sabine Valley.”

“No.” Monroe starts to lean forward, but I use my arm to keep her pressed back to the seat. It’s a token of how distracted she is that she allows it. “No,” she repeats. “I would have known if you were one of us.”

“How?” Shiloh still sounds too distant, too empty. “How would you have known, up in that expensive penthouse, living in the shadow of the throne? How could you possibly have known, Monroe? You were fifteen when I left the city. Still a child.”

For the first time, I feel actual sympathy toward Monroe. I shift my arm to tuck it around her shoulders. I almost pull Shiloh in, but she’s holding herself so tightly, I’m worried she might strike out or just drive us into the nearest building. Still, I can’t help brushing her shoulder with my fingers and saying the thing Monroe obviously can’t quite bring herself to. “Amazons value their children. They don’t do shit like what was done to you.” Her parents made my father look like a saint.

Shiloh laughs, a broken sound. “Everyone says that. Do you think if they repeat it enough, they’ll change the truth?”