She goes white. “So, it’s really come to this? It’s really gotten this bad. Over him? A vampire?”
“He is my fiancé,” I say darkly, my tone confident. “He’s the best person I’ve ever met. The person I’ve felt the safest with. The one who would do anything for me. And I will always choose him. Come on.”
I march us to the front door. I lead us through, never loosening my grip on her. And Ophelia must sense it, my newfound strength. That something is different. Because she doesn’t make a peep as we head to the elevator, then ride to the ground level.
By the time we walk outside into the busy day, Billings is parked at the curb. I guide Ophelia to the door, open it, and push her inside. I climb in after her, dropping hard into the seat, and lock the doors.
“Give me just a second, Billings, I need to call Harry for the address,” I say as I pull out my phone. “If she tries to run while I call, catch her.”
Ophelia looks at me with absolute terror.
“Yes, Miss Kincade,” Billings says in that deep voice, not an ounce of hesitation. His eyes fix on Ophelia’s reflection in the rear-view mirror.
I hold my phone to my ear, and Harry picks up after just one ring.
“You’ve found him?” he asks without greeting.
“No,” I answer simply. “But I have the person who did this to him. I need her contained until we get Ares. I need the address for the vault.”
Harry rattles it off to me, and I repeat it to Billings, who immediately sets out in that direction. “I’ll meet you there,” he adds.
“See you in twenty,” I say. “Could you do me a favor and bring me something to drink? It’s about to be a problem.”
He hesitates for just a second. I don’t blame him. I’m something new, and we’re all learning as I go. “Sure. See you soon.”
I end the call.
I look over at Ophelia, who is staring out the window, shaking her head. “Can you even see and hear yourself, Lana? Do you realize how much of a stranger you are now?”
Anger rages through my veins. All of this, and she’s going to try and makemefeel bad? “Right back at you, O.”
She gives a humorless chuckle. “Guess this is just life? It grabs you around the throat, forces you to make decisions you never thought you’d make. And suddenly, you don’t even know who the hell you are.”
I settle back into my seat, clenching my jaw. I don’t want to hear shit from her right now.
“You could fix all this, you know,” Ophelia says. “Just forget all of this, La?—”
“Nope,” I bark, my voice like a razor slicing through her manipulation.
I launch sideways before she can get the words out—the words she’s trying to use to influence me. My seatbelt’s already off, and I surge across the narrow space between our seats, twisting my body like a viper striking.
Her eyes flare wide just as my right arm snakes around her neck.
I tuck the crook of my elbow tight under her chin, my forearm pinning her throat, my bicep pressing firm against one carotid artery while the inside of my forearm crushes the other. I lock my left hand behind her head and press, forcing her skull forward into the hold.
She jerks beneath me, elbowing wild—but she seems to forget everything I taught her in class. She’s not a fighter, not really. But I was raised in a ring.
“Billings, don’t stop driving,” I bark as I tighten my hold.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he replies, though his eyes flick to the rearview mirror with concern.
Ophelia wheezes, her legs kicking, one heel slamming against the center console. She claws at my arm, fingernails digging into my skin. It’s desperate. Panicked.
“Go to sleep,” I mutter as I keep my grip.
My heart thunders, but my mind is clear. Keep the pressure. Don’t crush her windpipe. Don’t let her talk. Just hold.
Five seconds.
