Chapter 25 | The Devil of Siren City

Adrian

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

I exhale with a stiff smile, closing my eyes as my head sinks deeper into the pillow. After painfully struggling into a pair of clean slacks and getting into bed, the last thing to do was check in with Candy, who had already blown up my phone with panicked text messages. “Candy,” I mutter, “I—”

“I told you to lay low!” he says, bordering on hysterical, the sound of a shower head loud in the background. “Beating three men to death in an alley isn’t laying low!”

“Candy.”

“I have been trying to get a hold of you all night! What is happening?”

“Miller is dead.”

He goes quiet.

“Get here as soon as you can,” I say. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“I can’t,” he says. “They have me on lockdown, especially after this. I’m guarded and watched. I’m talking to you from a bathroom, for fuck’s sake…”

“You can’t slip them?”

“Not right now,” he says. “There might be a way, but it’ll take time.”

“What way?”

“You won’t like it.”

“What is it?” When he says nothing, I open my eyes. “Candy.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me it’s not—”

“Oh, it is.”

It’s my turn to go quiet, though my silence is arguably louder. Born from severe frustration. Like a parent of a teenager who just can’t stop running off to see the boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

Oh, of fucking course.

“Is that how you know what happened in the alley?” I ask at length.

After a moment, he says, “Yes.”

“Candy.” With my breath held tight, I ask what I already know. “Who is the archer?”

He sighs. “Rackham’s spymaster.”

Fucking hell.  

Just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he says. "Morgana was asking questions. I had to do something, so I dropped his name and… when she said Kris was taking care of you, I panicked. I… called in a favor.”

“And now I owe him one, too,” I say grimly.

“It’ll be all right,” Candy assures me. “Rackham, he’s… he’s trustworthy.”

“He’s a pirate.”

He laughs at that. “Well, check out the pot, calling the kettle names.”

“Candy, I know you’re fond of him, but he’s—”

“He’s all you’ve got,” he says, his tone turning serious. “While you were gone, his power — his influence — grew. We can’t afford to turn that away. Not now.”

“You’re saying I should put my trust in a man who benefited from my death?”

“I’m asking you to put your trust in me,” he says slowly, “and the man I love.”

I lie still, too tired and beaten to argue, wondering how many more times that damned T-word will come up today. Currently, I can count the number of souls I trust on less than one hand — and I’m eager to keep it that way.

But Candy is right. I thought I could trust Miller. I was wrong. I don’t trust the Captain. Never have. But Candy does.

Candy loves him.

And, as much as I despise admitting it, Rackham has proved multiple times over that he loves Candy, too. In his own way.

“I’ll get to you as soon as I can,” Candy says in our extended silence. “I’m sorry, Adrian.”

“Don’t be,” I say, softening my tone. “You’re right.”

And that’s how I agree to tie my fate to a man who, until nine months ago, was the only person who ever came close to killing me.

When I finally drift off to sleep, I do so with heavy thoughts. Time passes in a dreamless heartbeat, my mind and body far too exhausted for anything else.

When I come to, my room is pitch black as always, my blackout curtains doing their job. I feel for my phone in the dark, curious about the time. My muscles ache with every little movement, but I know the importance of it. I flex my fingers and toes. I roll my ankles and—

My foot brushes against something.

I pause, my chest pulsing once with a deep pain. I will my eyes to open, to adjust to the shroud of darkness, but it’s easy to make out the familiar shape perched on the end of my bed in nothing but a tank top and panties. Red hair and porcelain white skin.

“You again,” I say.

“Oh, don’t act like you’re disappointed,” she says, grinning.

“Wake Skylar up,” I say, too tired for this shit. “Now.”

She chuckles. “Well, they say you shouldn’t wake a sleepwalker, right?” She rises suddenly and steps forward to extend a glass of water toward me. “Drink this,” she says. “Seriously. She’s, like… so stressed out about your hydration. It’s cute, but annoying.”

I take it, carefully balancing on an elbow as I sate my admittedly intense thirst.

“See?” she says. “I’m not so bad. In fact, how do you know I’m the bad guy? Maybe she’s the one taking over my body without permission.”

“You are an unwanted guest, then,” I say, setting the empty glass on my bedside table.

“I wouldn’t say that. I think she enjoys my company, actually. Especially when it brings her closer to you.” She flashes a wicked grin. “She’s very shy, you know. You’ll have to make the first move, though… you’ve figured that out all on your own. Giving her an all-access pass to your bed at night was a smart decision.”

“I won’t lay a hand on her,” I say. “Not like this.”

“Untouched and unharmed,” she teases. “For the record, I have no problem being shackled.”

I don’t reply.

“Well, are you going to make some room? I need a safe place to sleep or else… I might just wander out to sea and end up a cautionary tale on the morning news.”

Not willing to lose anyone else today, I silently open the covers for her.

Smiling, she slides in. Her body heat effortlessly blends with my cold skin. I feel my blood warm for the first time in months. My hands shake with a primal urge to touch, to feel, but I gave Skylar my word. I’ll keep her safe, even from my own hands.

After wiggling more than necessary to get comfortable, she settles on her left side. I pull the covers over her — over us — and do the same, carefully turning onto my left flank, conscious of the still tender wound on my right.

I drape a protective arm over her, and she happily clings to it. A delightful game to her for sure, but should she walk again, I’ll know.

You take care of me, I’ll take care of you.

“What should I call you?” I ask her.

She hums pleasantly, purposefully wiggling her rear end against me again. “You can call me anything you want to,” she says.

I pinch her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Give me a name,” I say.

“All right.” Her shadowed eyes twinkle behind sinister red locks. “You can call me Persephone.”