Page 61 of Inception

He pressed his lips into a hard line, offering nothing.

“Who is it? Do I know him?” I pushed, crossing my arms as I triednotto feel offended by this news. I wanted to hear that this person was a stranger—someone I’d never met before, whose decision not to Pledge themselves to me (whatever the hell that meant) had nothing to do withme.

My uncle nodded that I knew him, affirming all my fears.

“Who is it?” I demanded.

He hesitated a moment before answering, probably looking for a way to soften the blow.

“It’s Trace Macarthur,” he finally said, shaking his head in disappointment—or abhorrence—I couldn’t tell.

He immediately went into a monolog of sorts as he tried to downplay the whole thing, though I had already stopped listening to what he was saying. I was far too busy picking up my jaw and heart from the stinking floor.

By the time I arrived at All Saints, the hurt and shock I’d felt at the house was all but gone, having instead stewed itself into a sizzling fury that flamed my skin from the inside out. Of all the people my uncle could have named, Trace’s name was the one that stung the most. Trace, with his condescending attitude and cold shoulders, and those stupid mesmerizing eyes.

I wanted it to beanyonebut him.

I walked in and headed straight for the back area, bypassing all my coworkers as I combed every inch of the kitchen and office in search of him. When I didn’t find him in his usual spots, I turned for the storeroom and nearly tore the door off its hinges as I stormed through the threshold.

Trace was kneeling down at the end of the room with a clipboard in his hand, taking inventory. He straightened out as soon he saw me, his eyebrows pulled together in bewilderment.

“You’re a real jerk, you know that?” I yelled, glaring at him as I tried to catch my breath from the mad dash.

He raised his brows at me. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Youknewall this time and you didn’t say anything?”

His demeanor instantly changed as the chain mail body armor shifted into place. He turned back to his inventory.

I moved closer to him, forcing him to look at me—to face me. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

He tossed the clipboard onto the shelf and took a step back. “What do you want me to say, Jemma?”

There was something distracting about the way he said my name. It sounded really nice coming from his lips. Kind of soft.

I squared my shoulders, refusing to let it sidetrack me. “You can start by telling me why you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you.” His voice was deeper now, more purposeful.

“Like hell you didn’t. Youknewand you never said a word to me. What do you call that?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Did you know about Dominic, too?”

He lowered his head, his jaw muscles tightening. It was a clear yes—a pitiful one at that.

“And you didn’t think to warn me?” I yelled, thrusting my open palms hard into his chest, though he barely moved an inch.

“What was I supposed to say?” he challenged. “‘Hey, Jemma, I’m not sure if anyone mentioned it to you yet, but vampires are real and the only reason you’re alive is to kill them. And by the way, your boyfriend’s one too’,” he said mockingly before turning serious again. “It wasn’tmyplace, and besides, you would have never believed me.”

“Yes, I would have.”

“No,” he insisted. “You wouldn’t have.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t know anything,” I snapped, turning for the door.

“Really?” He snagged my elbow and pulled me back. “Because I have this vague recollection of trying to talk to you about itthatnight,” he said accusingly, his blue eyes glaring down at me. “Remember that? You refused to talk to me about it. What did you want me to do, hold you down and force you?”

I shook my arm loose though I didn’t walk away this time.

I remembered the night of the attack vividly, and how unwilling I was to talk to him about what had happened. It was no secret that I’d grown incredibly good at pushing away the things I didn’t want to face—things I wasn’treadyto face—and as a result, I wound up ignorant to everything around me.