"Give me one good reason I shouldn't slit you from ear to ear right now." My blade digs deeper still, slicing through layers of flesh as Abel stares up at me, unblinking. He's emotionless, and I thought for certain he'd be pleading for his life. But instead, he seems to be aware of something I am not.

"You won't kill me." He reaches up and wraps his fingers around the blade, cutting himself as he yanks it away from his throat and forces his way out of my grasp. "And you won't kill Ivy. I can see it in your eyes. She tried to murder you, yet she still breathes. There is only one plausible explanation for that. She’s inside your head. She’s getting to you.”

A caustic laugh rumbles from his chest as he shakes his head. "Human emotion is such a weakness, isn't it, Santiago? I did not think you capable, but it appears even machines can be taught how to love."

"Love has nothing to do with it.” I clip the words through gritted teeth.

"Then why did you allow her to send you on a fool's mission?" he challenges. "Chasing your answers all over the city when you already have them at home. You just don't want to accept that it was your wife's scheme. That she couldn't bear the idea of having your children. A monster's baby, I believe that was the phrase she used. Perhaps you should ask her about that."

"Ivy isn't lying about this."

I’m not sure I even believe my assertion. Abel might be a fucking flea, but he has a valid observation, and it's an obvious one. I did exactly as he says. I believed what she told me and came here for the truth, when I should be forcing it from her lips instead. Why didn’t I challenge her on this? Why would I assume that, after recent events, I could chance anything she says to be truthful?

"It seems to me you have yet to weed out all the traitors in your own home," Abel says somberly.

My eyes snap back to his. "What traitors?”

He sighs as if the information he's about to relay pains him deeply. "I have it on good authority that someone very close to you provided my sister with the lipstick she wore that night at the gala. I'm sure I don't even need to mention her name. You already know who it is."

The blood in my veins reaches to a boiling point, searing me from the inside out. I should murder him for even hinting at the idea, but a dark seedling of a thought begins to take shape. Mercedes was the one who dressed Ivy that night. She helped her prepare. She purchased the clothes and did her makeup. How could Abel possibly know that? He wasn't there.