Page 140 of Cruel Lies

"Maybe she’s mad at you," he suggested, his frown deepening as his callalsowent to voicemail.

"Maybe she’s doing something she shouldn’t be," I suggested. "Let’s just get this over with so we can go home."

Walking through the front door this time around took a lot less fanfare than our last visit. There was nobody to greet us at the front, no pat-down, not even a lone guard watching the door.

In fact, the house was too quiet.

Angel squatted next to a puddle of blood, grimacing as he dragged a finger through it. "Fresh. Whoever did this isn’t far ahead of us."

Nash licked his fucking lips in anticipation. "Let’s get to it, then. I don’t wanna miss out if they manage to get the old fucker."

"Bedroom? Or study?" Angel’s eyes fell on the hallway leading to the study, then moved to the staircase before us.

The gunshot that resounded down the hall made the decision easy.

Nash didn’t miss a beat, his feet flying down the hall, Angel close on his trail. I wasn’t as fast as either of them, but I wasn’t far behind.

Which is why when Nash put his hand on the door of the study and shoved it open, I couldn’t believe what happened next.

Thunk.

Nash turned in the doorway, his hand moving to his chest, where a familiar blade was now lodged in his body.

His eyes found someone in the room, and his words were laced with pain and shock, as well as . . . pride?

"I always knew you’d be the death of me, Harpie girl. I just didn’t think it’d be like this."

Harper’s blood-curdling scream would echo in my ears for years to come.

"Noooooooo!"

He fell to his knees just inside the study door, the three of us converging on him as he paled and blood poured from his chest.

Harper was like a vision in black; I almost didn’t recognize her at first. She’d painted up her face to match ours, the skeleton makeup mingling on her skin with dried blood.

I realized a little belatedly that she’d been the one to take out the guards. All of them.

Impressive.

There wasn't any time to register the astounding new revelations while Nash was bleeding out on the floor, but every step I took was like walking through half-solidified concrete. Every second played out in slow-motion, like someone was holding me back even as adrenaline slammed into my veins. I couldn’t think past getting to him, saving him.

"Don’t pull it out, you idiot!" I shouted as his hand curled around the hilt, the look in his eyes going far darker than I’d ever seen it.

His gaze lifted, meeting mine, and I’d never been more worried in my life that Nash would willingly end it.

And then Harper’s hand slipped over his, prying his fingers away, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I reached for the buttons on my shirt, fully intending to use it as a pressure bandage.

I’d never had to dial 911 for one of us before, but the realization that this would be a first today hit me like a ton of bricks.This was past what the Surgeon could handle at the Guild, and that was providing Nash made itbackto the asylum alive. I could barely breathe, the anxiety for his survival was so heavy.

Perhaps this was what it felt like to be Harper in one of her anxiety attacks. Frozen and unable to do what you knew you had to in the moment. Helpless. Out of control.

I didn’t like it.

My leather jacket hit the floor as I knelt at Nash’s side, finally reaching him after what felt like an eternity. "Here, hold onto this," I demanded as I thrust my shirt at him, knowing damn well the only way to keep him present in his own survival was to give him something to do.

He was too busy saving his own life to argue.

"Fuck, Ro, this one sucks," he muttered, staring down at his chest like a helpless child. "You think this is it? I’ve got so many things I didn’t get to say?—"

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