“No, not that doesn’t hurt anyone. In a way that doesn’t hurt you. If you can look me in the eye and tell me this doesn’t feel any different than chasing rogue half-demons and sorcerers, I’ll leave. But if you can’t…?” His fingers tapped against the chair arm. “I’ve already spoken to Lucas. If you walk away now, he’ll handle this for us.”

“What if I don’t want to walk away?”

His mouth tightened a fraction before he smoothed it out. “I’m asking you to reconsider, Hope. Whatever you think of me right now, remember all the times you did take my advice, because you knew it was in your best interest. This is the one arena in which you cannot accuse me of self-interest. I’m thinking of you and what I think is best for you, knowing you as well as I do.”

I glanced away. Angry—even sarcastic retorts—flitted past, but I didn’t pursue them. Couldn’t.

“I can do this job.”

“Yes, you can. The question is: should you?”

I lifted my gaze to his. “I think I should.”

His fingertips massaged the leather arm. “This is about last year, isn’t it? About what happened with Jaime?”

For a moment, I was back in that room, lying on the cold concrete. The killing room. I felt the unbelievable chaos of those horrible deaths swirling around me. I heard the fear in Jaime’s voice. Heard the clomp of footsteps outside the room. Knew they were coming for her, death was coming for her and, for just the briefest moment, felt an undeniable thrill of anticipation. It had only lasted a second, but I hadn’t trusted it to stay gone, hadn’t trusted myself not to do something to make the situation worse so I could feed off the chaos. So I’d told her to knock me out.

I shook my head. “This has nothing to do with—”

“—with testing yourself? Seeing how far you can push it? How far you can control it?”

“We’ve been through this and—”

“And you’re not going to discuss it. Fine. But tomorrow morning, Hope, I’m going to talk to Benicio. You don’t need to be there, but if you want to have your say, you’re welcome to join me.”

“I will.”

“Good.” He checked his watch. “It’s too late to check into a hotel—”

“Just sleep on the damned couch, like you planned to.”

I pushed to my feet, strode into the bedroom and tried not to slam the door.