“Who said I hated her?”

“Why this change?” I pressed. “Why, all of a sudden, do you want to be the one to risk going after her?”

“Because I . . . because I didn’t ask her why she wasn’t saying anything. That day we went into the house. I knew something was the matter. I felt there was something she wanted to say. I should have asked her. I wanted to. But . . . I didn’t.”

Silence swept in between us all. Everyone stared hard at Charlotte. Me hardest of all. Because she was talking about that day in the coffee shop. When I’d briefed everyone on what had happened at Moldavia after the chandelier incident.

“That was my fault,” I told her. “I was the one who told her not to—”

“It doesn’t matter what you told her,” said Charlotte. “I could tell something was wrong just by looking at her, and I could have pulled her aside and asked her and I didn’t. Instead, I let a stupid grudge get in the way. She would have told me about Erik if I’d asked her. Probably everything.”

“What do you mean by ‘everything’?” I challenged.

“There’s something else going on here,” said Charlotte. “You don’t want to see it, but there’s some part of this we’re missing. And it has everything to do with Stephanie.”

“If there was, she would have told me.”

“No, she wouldn’t have,” said Charlotte, shaking her head. “You’re not going to understand, Lucas, so stop trying.”

“Why—”

“Because!” She threw her arms open. “You love her. It’s obvious to everyone how you feel about her. But it’s also clear that you’re letting that blind you.”

“To what?”

“Lucas, she went back in for him,” Charlotte said, like I was missing something that stood out as painfully obvious to her. “She told you that straight. But you didn’t tell us. And that’s because you preferred to believe that it was some kind of demon you could smudge out of existence instead of someone who she truly cared for.”

“She doesn’t,” I said, my words coming out strangled.

Charlotte shook her head at me. “You’re still not ready to hear it. This is crazy, Lucas. You are crazy. And I’m not going to stand around and wait for you to get killed because you think you’re the only one with a stake in this.”

With that, Charlotte turned and stormed out the door.

I struggled to stand, to go after her, but Rastin again stayed me. This time, I let him. Because the room was starting to spin again.

“Patrick,” said Wes. “Where are you going?”

Glancing up, I saw a scowling Patrick stop en route to the door.

Though I wanted to believe he was going to retrieve Charlotte, or at least talk her down, the reluctant way he pivoted toward us told me otherwise.

“Look,” said Patrick. “I’d be lying if I told you Charlotte hadn’t just said out loud everything I was thinking.”