“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but there’s been a fire . . .”

My grandfather’s cabin . . . our safe house, where Chill and I first met . . . where I first kissed Fleur.

“. . . still waiting on the fire marshal’s report. There’s not much left standing, but considering the age and condition of the place, it was likely an accident . . .” No. This fire was no accident. “Mr. Sommers? Mr. Sommers, are you there?”

I disconnect the call.

Lyon is dead. Doug has Fleur and Chill. Our safe house is gone.

He wants to make you suffer. . . .

I grip the island. The puddle of water under Kai’s chair stretches toward my bare feet. Her clothes are drenched, her bruises from our fight blooming violet and gold under the harsh kitchen lights.

“Why are you here?” I ask, my knuckles white around the counter. “Did he send you to deliver a message? Did he handpick you for the job just to rub it in my face?”

“I already told you, he doesn’t even know I’m here!”

“Don’t bet on it,” I say, struggling to contain my temper. “He has Ananke’s magic and he has the staff. What were you thinking, coming here?”

“I didn’t have time to think! I just ran. I couldn’t trust Doug and I didn’t know where else to go. I have to get back into the Observatory, and I can’t do it alone. I need your help!”

I nearly choke, white-hot tears of rage threatening to spill out. “You killed me. You shot me in the back! What the hell did you leave down there that you could possibly think you deserve? Your soul? Your magic? Your goddamn immortality?”

“Ruby!” Her head snaps up. “I left my sister, Ruby! She’s down there, and if Doug finds her, he’ll make her suffer just to punish me because I . . .” She averts her eyes. Her cheeks flush with shame.

“Because you what?”

“Because I chose to do the right thing,” she says quietly. “Lyon asked me to protect you, so I came.”

A cutting laugh explodes out of me. “Bullshit. Lyon would never trust you with that. Not after what you did to me.”

Her gaze swings to me. “I’m not proud of what I did. Lyon told me that facing you was the first step to forgiving myself. That this was my way forward. He said it’s not too late to make the right choice—”

“Wait . . . what did you just say?” Those words . . . about facing our demons and forgiving ourselves . . . about it not being too late to choose a new path and find a way forward . . . Those words belong to Lyon. It was the same advice he gave me last week when we talked on the phone. “Lyon sent you? He said those exact words, and he told you to come here?”