The man with the gun had disappeared. Even his footsteps faded as sirens rang out in the distance, the snow falling harder now. Raven had always loved the snow. He’d always loved the cold. Now he desperately longed for the warmth of his mother’s embrace, which he feared he’d never feel again.

The life was bleeding out of her.

He could feel it as she clung to him. He could see it, as the snow darkened beneath her body. Farther off, in the direction where the man had been, there were three crimson drops in the snow.

But they weren’t hers.

23 Ensnaring the Huntsman

Slitting a throat came easily. All you needed was a single rusty blade. Jack watched his oldest friend bring the shears to Andrew Kane’s neck, and for a moment, all the air leached out of the room.

No one was breathing.

An instant later, Andrew gasped, and Jack gasped too. Lily’s hands flew to her mouth. Only Raven seemed perfectly calm as he tightened his grip on the man who’d murdered his mom.

“You shot her. You left her for dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew choked out, but it wasn’t enough to sway the boy standing behind him. It was far too little and far too late. Raven’s mother was dead, and this man could’ve stopped it.

He could’ve admitted to it.

But he hadn’t. And now a blade dug into his skin, drawing blood. “Raven, stop,” Jack began, but Raven cut him off.

“You don’t get to say that. You, of all people, should understand—”

“You’re right.” Jack eyed the distance between them. The table. The chairs. “I almost killed someone, and I’m so glad that I didn’t. I know what it would’ve cost me.”

“I have nothing to lose.”

Those words, damn. They were shards of glass sliding into skin. They were slivers making a home in soft fingers, and Jack wondered if he’d ever get rid of the sting. “Are you sure about that?” he asked Raven.

Raven looked up for a moment. Their eyes met, and there was a charge between them. Something intangible reaching across the air. “I can’t let him go after what he did. I can’t let him live.”

“It was an accident,” Lily stammered, her gaze glued to her father’s throat. A thin trail of red was nearing his collarbone. But when she stepped toward him, Raven shook his head, and Lily froze. “The gun was supposed to be loaded—”

“With blanks. Yeah, that’s what he claims,” Raven snapped, his voice cold and clipped. He’d never sounded like this before. Not after his mother had died in the snow. Not after he’d climbed into a coffin and pretended to be dead.