The air turns somber.
“She’s right,” Everett says gruffly, breaking the silence. “We can’t risk sending her back. That means no killing around her.”
“No killingaroundher?” Rafe asks.
“Correct.”
Rafe focuses on Thea. “Do you remember the bar you were at?”
“Ummm. Yeah. It was called Lacey’s Jugs or something along those lines. About twenty minutes in a car.”
“I’ll be back,” Rafe says darkly, stalking out of the room and towards the borrowed—stolen—car.
Thea watches him leave with a quizzical expression, but I quickly reclaim her attention before she can ask questions.
“And you’re okay, right? Besides your face, of course.” I didn’t see any other injuries on her, though it’s hard to tell with her clothes so baggy.
“I promise I’m fine.” She tries to smile, though I can tell it causes her pain. “I’ll be good as new by tomorrow.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her it’ll take at least a week to heal.
“And I don’t blame you, Krystian,” she adds, glancing at the sullen elf. “You know that, don’t you?”
Krystian lowers his eyes to his feet, seemingly unable to meet her penetrating gaze.
“Krystian…” Her voice is a growl.
“You never should’ve been there in the first place,” Krystian finally explodes, snapping his head up to stare at her. “If I was still in control…”
He can’t seem to find the words to finish that sentence.
“You want to know the biggest difference between the two of you?” Thea asks, canting her head to the side. She doesn’t wait for Krystian to respond before continuing. “You both look after and protect me, but Krys doesn’t treat me as breakable. I think you know, at least subconsciously, that a tiny punch to the face won’t get rid of me that easily.”
An uneasy silence permeates the air as we all process her dogmatic proclamation.
A punch may not have gotten rid of Thea…but that only begs the question—what will?
How can we protect her from threats we can’t even begin to comprehend?
We need to find Aphrodite, and fast. If anyone will have answers, it’ll be her.
I just pray we won’t be too late.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THEA
Krystian and Everett both excuse themselves, leaving me alone with Zaid.
He repositions the ice pack on my face after about ten minutes, and I wince as a shooting pain reverberates through me.
“Sorry.” He blanches. “I know it hurts.”
“Just a smidge.” I place my thumb and pointer finger a millimeter apart, trying to smile.
“Here. Hold this for a second.”
I take the ice pack from Zaid, and he moves to a suitcase on the floor in the room. He reappears a second later with two orange pills in his hand.
