Page 50 of Fallen Omega

And— “Here’s one thing. When those cops grabbed you and I fuckingrescuedyou, why didn’t you have fake papers? You have to have them. Anyone off grid or shunned has them. Because there are things that come up, things you need them for, even shitty housing wants something. You know there’s a curfew so?—”

“Because I don’thaveany.” Her burst of words makes me stop, and I unfold my arms, running a hand through my too long hair before I fold them again.

I wait.

Silence stretches, and she finally says, “I didn’t need them. I didn’t have a reason for them until…until recently.”

“What happened?”

“Not your business,” she says, her voice catching. “Not anyone’s business.”

I change direction, toward the man, David, who Reaper killed for reasons I understand. He also said the book she has contains nothing but the names and info of old rebels and nobodies. His area of expertise, not mine.

“Who’s David Finch to you?” I ask.

She frowns. “Who?”

“He was outside your apartment last night. A friend of your Jake’s?”

“He’s not—” She stops. Glares. “I don’t know either man. I didn’t do anything wrong.” Then she looks down, takes half a step toward me before changing her mind and stopping. Shefinally looks at me. “At least not intentionally. The only stupid thing wrong I did was make a bad judgment call and go out for some drinks to take the edge off the heat. Because you…you motherfucker, ithurts.”

The raw edge of her voice slices into me but I ignore it.

“Okay. Then tell me this.”

“Tell you what?”

I give her a cold, blank look, one she steps back from.

And what I really want to do is stride over and throw her down, and fuck her so senseless she’s utterly mine.

She’s fucking witchcraft. She makes me want to do all the things I don’t. Corrupt her sweetness.

But I just keep that stark expression in place and stay where I am. Pressed into the fucking wall. Like a special kind of coward.

One who won’t risk trusting himself.

Coward? Or is that man who knows what, exactly, he’s capable of doing and is hanging on by a fraying thread to keep this side of control?

I’ll send someone for O-blockers. The best on the market. But first…

“Who’s Elias Enver?”

She goes still, but the expression is real. “I heard the name, but I haven’t met him.”

“But,” I say, “you have. Question is how the fuck did the Council know Elias Enver was Connor Roth? Your father.”

Chapter

Eleven

Lizette

“What?”

My voice cracks and the world with it. For a brief moment, the pain inside me is dwarfed by the agony caused by his words.

I don’t even know why it hurts. The lies Dad might have told me? The implacable truth of what he’s saying rings through me.

---