Byron aims a precise jab at the area near Cole’s head, and I feel the layers of ephemera shudder. They’re going to crack soon.
And then what’s going to happen? How far will Cole take this fight?
How violently will Salvatore and Byron defend me?
The image flashes behind my eyes of Asher lying bloody in a parking lot, of Salvatore sagging limp in the river.
I’ve tried so hard to keep them away from the worst parts of my existence…
Salvatore heaves a wallop of pure magic at Cole, and the resulting reverberation knocks one of the chairs right over.Cole’s back hits the wall. He winces and stiffens with more determination.
Byron pushes forward with a swing of his fists. Asher propels more magic between them.
My pulse thuds against my skull. My mantra hums through my head—I have all I need, I have all I need—but it barely penetrates my rising panic.
Keeping my secrets isn’t protecting my matches anymore. It might hurt them more than I’m afraid telling them would.
If the things I’ve hidden have brought us to this point… maybe Cole is right, if highly misguided in his approach.
I wanted to give Byron a real choice. Don’t they all deserve to know who they’re actually dealing with?
The imagined voices of my other versions of these men waver through my spinning thoughts.
“Trust them,”Byron would say.“Give me the chance to show you just how deep my dedication goes.”
Salvatore would scoff.“Do you really think a little extra murder and mayhem would put me off, mia amata?”
And Cole… All I can picture is his penetrating gaze, piercing my soul.“I always did the best I could by you, Elodie. Is it too much to ask for the same in return?”
The Byron in front of me hurls his body against the brothers’ shield, and Asher jerks back with a pained gasp.
My whole body goes rigid, guilt digging claws right through my gut.
The words burst from my mouth. “All right! I’ll tell you. Just—just stop.”
Twenty-Two
Elodie
My matches freeze.
Salvatore glances over his shoulder at me, his forehead furrowed.
Byron turns right around, his hands falling to his sides. “Tell us what, Elodie?”
An awful, triumphant smile crosses Cole’s face. I want to smack it right off him, but I still can’t move, because he’s held on to the invisible restraints he bound me with through the whole fight.
It mattered that much to him to keep me imprisoned.
I can’t stop myself from at least glaring, even as my stomach sinks with the admission I’m making. How much can I trust the imagined reassurances of my other matches, and how much was that just wishful thinking?
I can’t let them keep going like this. That’s all I know for sure.
By some miracle, my voice stays steady. “There are thingsI haven’t shared with you. But they aren’t anything like what Cole’s saying.” A short, despairing laugh hitches out of me. “And you probably won’t believe me anyway.”
One corner of Cole’s smile tugs downward with obvious disbelief—and maybe because of the familiar way I said his name. As if I could think of him as just “Professor Raith” now.
I focus my attention on the men who believe better of me, even though my heart is breaking. I might be about to shatter their good opinion too.