Page 24 of The Fire Went Wild

Jaxon shrugs a little. Sips his wine. “It means what it means. I can’t tell you.”

“Well, why the fuck not?” I shout the question, and Jaxon’s shoulders hitch a little. But his eyes gleam like he’s enjoying himself, and I’m so irritated by that fact that I spit out, “Is it the same reason why youcan’tkill me?”

He sets the wine down and fiddles with his napkin. “Partially.”

I want to strangle him. I know it’s dumb. I know if I push away from this table he would be on me in seconds—I’ve seen how fast he moves. Uncomfortably fast.Unnaturallyfast.I still want to strangle him, my fingers flexing against the table.

And pain flares in my temple. Fucking migraines. I haven’t had them in years, and now I keep getting miniature versions of them, like they’re trying to claw back into my life.

It must be the stress.

“Ask the right questions,” Jaxon says calmly.

I take a deep breath and the pain retreats. I look down at my half-eaten bowl of étouffée. Then I stuff one of Jaxon’s hatefully delicious biscuits in my mouth and wash it down with a big swig of wine.

Jaxon waits, watching me over his plate.

“Fine.” I wipe my lips with my napkin and then look across the table at him. “Is Edie safe?”

Jaxon tilts his head like he’s considering the question. “More or less.”

My breath catches. “Could you explain that a little more, please?”

He grins. It almost feels like he’s mocking me, but at the same time, it also feels like we’re in on some kind of joke together—not that I can see what it is. “She isn’t going to die anytime soon. She’s not hurt. But the situation she’s in—” He shrugs. “I’m not sureyouwould call it safe.”

My skin prickles as I wait for him to continue, but he just takes a bite of salad. What he said actually makes me feel a little better, assuming he’s telling the truth. She’s not hurt. She’s not in danger of dying. Even if she isn’tsafe, that gives me time to find her.

Assuming I can get away from Jaxon.

“ThissituationEdie’s in,” I say carefully. “Could she leave?”

Jaxon lifts his gaze to me and raises an eyebrow. I tense, waiting for him to say,That’s not the right questionin that smug way of his, but instead, he says, “Yes.”

My breath gets all tight in my lungs. I stare at him, blood pounding in my ears. This doesn’t make any sense. “You’re lying,” I tell him, anger surging up in my chest. “If she could leave, she would have called me.”

Something flickers across Jaxon’s face, so fast I can’t name it. But I think it’s pity.

“That’s not a question,” he says softly.

I screech and drain the rest of my wine. Pour some more. Is it stupid, to be drinking this wine? Almost certainly. Am I going to do it anyway?

Absolutely.

“Fine. You want a question?” I empty the bottle into my glass. “Why are you lying to me about Edie?”

He narrows his eyes. “I’m not.”

“She would have called me. If she’s safe—or mostly safe, whatever the hell that means—she would have called me.” The words spill out, angry and desperate. I want Jaxon to laugh or snicker. I want the cruelty to flash in his eyes. I wantsomethingthat tells me this whole time he’s been fucking with me. Because otherwise it means Edie didn’t bother to tell me where she is, and that hurts.

At least if she were dead, she’d have an excuse.

The thought flowers to life and then immediately withers on the vine. How could I think something so fucked up? Of course it’s better for her to be alive. Of course I want her to be alive and mostly safe.

Butfuckdoes the idea that she wouldn’t even send me some kind of bullshit letter in code or something, anything—my heart gets all hard and black and shriveled at the thought.

I turn back to my étouffée and take a few bites, hardly tasting them.

“Are you okay?” Jaxon says.

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