Page 46 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn
My wandering gaze lands on Soren as if he’s magnetic to me; he’s speaking with one of the weaponsmiths Mod pointed out. His black tunic that’s too long is tucked into his leather pants that have a thick belt cinching around his entire waist, his weapons properly adorning him—probably over there discussing getting a new one made. He looks so refreshed compared to the alley with Shade.
Which makes me nervous, because that means he’ll have a lot more energy to wear me down. He glances back at me as if he can feel that, and I reach for the cup of water, my cheeks reddening.
Gods,I dread him asking about what Cypress said.
Soren legitimately slept for nearly two days straight, only awake to fill his belly with food or water, drinking a blood tonic every morning. What am I going to do if he holds me to that declaration of the third day?What can I possibly tell him so he doesn’t do it? If he finds out, he’s going to lose his mind.
I’m still trying to decide how I really fit into all of this. That's what a leader would do, isn’t it? Know when to act independently? If Misery wantsme, then why shouldn’t I go to him? I know damn well if this is my father, he would go. Get right up close and personal, before striking.
At least, with Cypress supporting me, I feel as if I have achance.
“Did we ever figure out what happened with Shade?” I ask, trying to think of something else.Anythingelse, because I can sense Soren is still watching me.
Bones’s expression hardens instantly. “Oh, we’re on it. Given strict orders to capture him as unharmed as possible, because Soren wants to inflict it all. I personally think he means to make a message out of Shade. But I can’t share those details.”
“And you’re certain that Kathleen is alright? I don’t want her nearanywherethat affiliates with Shade.”
He starts twirling one of his rings in between his fingers. “Kitten is where she needs to be, and I won’t share that, either.” His mismatched eyes flash at me. “She said you wouldn’t take that for an answer, by the way. So I’m alreadyextraprepared to tell youno.”
I inhale, not quite sure what I want to say but I’m far from satisfied.She knows me well. He holds up a hand as if sensing my protest. “I’m not saying where she is, so you can stop. She truly has been put somewhere very safe. She’s a massive target to get to you, and both your daddy and Soren want her as impossible to find as buried treasure.”
I hate the idea of having to open up to Bones, to give him a fraction of my vulnerability, but I may not have any other choice. I lean over slightly on the table. “Bones, I feel really weird having no idea where my closest friend is.”
“Perfectly reasonable,” he casually replies, looking to the side as one of the followers brings over a bowl of stew and fresh bread. The woman looks at me and smiles warmly, while cautiously eyeing Bones. The rest of the crew all get up to get in line for it—we don’t have to, apparently—and the woman is gone just as fast as she arrived. “But that’salsowhy you can’t know. Just think of it as protecting her. If you knew about Kitten, and if someone like Soren gets ahold of you, they’ll rip that information right out of you.Thenall that person has to do is find and threaten Kathleen, and your savior complex won’t be able to say no, and then we’re all fucked.”
“I donot—” I halt, not having seen the conversation takingthatdirection.
He raises his brows, shifting so he’s facing his steaming bowl of food. “I’ve got zero judgment for it. I get it. But thatisyour biggest weakness. Soren’s technically a target, too, but they kidnap him, and they’ll have Death’s Wing after him, along with his people. And he’d be hard as shit to crack. No, it’s better to take Kitten if they want to get to you.”
I tap my finger on the table, watching him bring the spoon to his lips before blowing on it. My mouth parts at times, until I manage out, “Who put you in charge of analyzing me?”
“Soren, when he told me to train you.”
My jaw drops; not really meaning that question. I was just being sarcastic. “Wait, seriously? You know what, where is Anya while we’re at it? She was supposed to help. It’s just been you for the last three days. Maybe it’s time to switch it up.”
He shrugs, ripping some bread into pieces and dipping it into the broth, the crumbly bread slowly turning soggy in his fingers.“There’s nothing wrong with that. Kathleen loves my company, and you love Kathleen,” he calmly says, almost smugly.
I grab a piece of bread as my hunger betrays my irritation, my stomach obscenely grumbling at the smell of onion beef stew. I rip apart the baked goodness more aggressively than is probably necessary. “Whatever… I wouldn’t say no to someone else coming over. Maybe we should invite one of these people to the table? Or would that interrupt youranalysisof me?”
“You know they won’t come over here.”
I hotly sigh. He’s not wrong. So far, no one has approached us when we’ve sat here for food between training sessions. It was apparently Soren’s orders that, for some reason, my father’s men agreed to. That doesn’t stop them from staring, probably because they see me training all day if they pass the storage room and wonder why I fight like a flopping fish.
I’ve never really had a sense of shame, though. They don’t know what I face, and I’ll be damned if I let another moment go by that isn’t about helping me prepare for what’s coming.
I owe Soren.
I won’t let him down.
Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate that I’ve properly got to be aware of a reputation to live up to, however that works.
Bones tears into another piece of bread as he smirks. “But seriously, you need to work on over-gripping your dagger. It’s what you’re doing right now to your spoon.”
I glance down, my brows furrowing when I see that I am, indeed, gripping it as if hanging on for dear life.
“I like a firm grip,” I comment, relaxing my fingers as the stiffness releases. “Don’t make any sexual jokes.”
He grins mischievously. “Who me? I wouldnever.” He licks his lips, straightening up again. “Anyway, this is important because your grip is something you can work on without a partner. I’d still focus mostly on evasion, but having the rightgrip could be the difference between life and death.” He takes another bite, the remainder of the bread dripping into the broth. “But if, and when, shit gets real, there won’t be time to heal or recover. It’s all about muscle memory, so being aware at all times, even eating your soup, is pragmatic.”
