Elfrieda Stewart POV
The hospital lights were unforgivingly bright.
They hummed with a sterile frequency that drilled straight into my skull.
Forty stitches.
That was the cost of Jaxon’s reflex.
Jaxon had graced the emergency room with his presence for exactly ten minutes.
He stood by the door, checking his phone, looking like a man waiting for a bus rather than a fiancé waiting for a prognosis.
"It was an accident, El," he said, his gaze fixed on the linoleum. "I just reacted. Janice was closer."
She wasn't closer.
She was five feet away.
I had been standing right next to him.
"Go," I said.
"I can't just leave you," he said, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
Then, his phone buzzed.
He looked at it, and naked relief washed over his face.
"Janice thinks she might have a concussion from the fall," he lied. "She's at the other hospital. I have to go handle the insurance."
"Go," I repeated.
He was gone before the second syllable cleared my lips.
I waited until the nurse changed my IV bag and left the room.
Then, I yanked the needle out of my arm.
Warmth trickled down my skin, but I didn't care.
I grabbed my coat.
I knew exactly where he was going.
I had tracked his car's GPS.
It was another "safety measure" he had installed for me, one which I had quietly mirrored to my own phone months ago. Just in case he got kidnapped. Or, as it turned out, just in case he strayed.
I took a cab to the address.
It wasn't a hospital.
It was the Meridian Tower.
The most expensive residential building in the city.
The Outfit used it for two things: high-level mistresses and money laundering.
I walked past the doorman, flashing the Tate family crest on my keychain.
He nodded stiffly and let me pass.
I took the elevator straight to the penthouse.
I didn't knock.
I stood outside the heavy oak door.
I could hear them.
"Look at this place, baby," Janice's voice was shrill with excitement. "The view is amazing."
"It's yours," Jaxon said. "Everything I have is yours."
"What about the Violist?" she asked.
I held my breath.
"Elfrieda?" Jaxon laughed. It was a cruel, hollow sound. "She's a burden. A civilian. She doesn't know how this world works. She thinks I saved Janice because of instinct? I saved Janice because Janice is the only thing that matters."
"She's pretty, though," Janice teased.
"She's a doll," Jaxon spat. "A fragile, porcelain doll. Boring. I have to wind her up every morning just to get her through the day."
I leaned my forehead against the cool wood of the door.
My arm throbbed.
My heart was a stone in my chest.
The door opened suddenly.
I didn't have time to hide.
Janice stood there, wearing nothing but one of Jaxon’s shirts.
She didn't look surprised.
She looked delighted.
She smiled, a slow, predatory curving of her lips.
"Jaxon," she called out, not taking her eyes off me. "Your charity case is here."
Jaxon appeared behind her.
His face went dead pale.
"Elfrieda," he stammered. "What are you doing here? You should be in the hospital."
I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
I saw the weakness in the set of his chin.
The fear in his eyes.
He wasn't a monster.
He was a coward.
And cowards were dangerous because they had no code.
"I just came to return this," I said.
I reached into my pocket with my good hand.
I pulled out the engagement ring I had salvaged from the floor of the gala.
I tossed it.
It hit Jaxon in the chest and bounced onto the floor with a dull clink.
Janice laughed.
She stepped forward and kissed Jaxon, hard, on the mouth.
She marked him.
She looked dead at me while she did it.
Jaxon didn't push her away.
He let her claim him right in front of me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out.
A notification from Instagram.
*Janice_Tate has requested to follow you.*
She was declaring war.
I looked at the two of them, framed in the doorway of their stolen paradise.
I accepted the request.
