But I barely hear any of it. The cut hangs in my hands. It’s heavier than it was when I put it on not that long ago. My fingers tighten around the worn leather, as my eyes drop to the back of it.
PROPERTY OF CLUTCH.
The stitching blurs slightly, as the tears gather in my eyes.
“Property,” I murmur.
A strange calm settles over me.
“That word always sat wrong with me.”
My thumb traces the letters once.
“But now I finally understand why.”
I look up again and my gaze sweeps across the room. Across the men watching, across Razor and Angel. I make sure I look at them all, except forhim.
“Maybe,” I say quietly, “you should ask the last person who was with Mara why she would feel the need todisappear.”
I never see it coming.
Razor moves so fast the motion barely registers.
One second he’s standing beside Angel.
The next…
Crack.
The sound explodes through the room, as pain flashes white across my vision when his hand connects with my face.
Gasps erupt everywhere.
Women shout, as chairs scrape across the floor and hands grab Razor, yanking him backward.
“Back the hell up!”
“Razor!”
“He hit her!”
He fights against them. Eyes blazing.
“Stop stalling,” he snarls. “Tell us what the fuck you did with Mara.”
The room quiets again and slowly I lift my head. My lip is split, I know it without looking. Warm blood drips down my chin.
My eyes finally find Clutch. The activity around me blurs because one thing becomes crystal clear… He hasn’t moved.
Not one step.
Not toward me.
Not toward Razor.
His body looks tight, almost vibrating with energy. But he’s still standing exactly where he was.
And when I follow the direction of his gaze…