Opposition

I chose my words carefully. “What I want is a home where my family is safe, and only we can provide that. We come first.”

Rolland’s head tilted to the side, his gaze never leaving my face. “We do. And soon you will have that safe home for your family. It is already well under way.”

I wanted to ask exactly how it was well under way, because all I had seen from them so far was a lot of nasty killing.

Tension-filled silence stretched out between us, and then he flicked his hand at the door. “Go do what you need to do, but please do not throw Sadi at anything. She has her uses that I might want to partake in later.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I spun around and started for the door.

“Oh. And Daemon?”

Shit. I stopped, turning to him.

The damn smile was on his face, the same smile he’d worn when he addressed the public earlier in the day over the local news. When he’d told the city, or whatever was left of it, that everything would be fine, that mankind would prevail and a whole load more crap he’d actually made sound believable.

“Don’t make me regret not snuffing out your life in the clearing, because if you are a trataaie,” he said, slipping into our native tongue, “it will not be me you will fear, but the senitraaie. You will not only lose your family, but that little girl up there will suffer a very slow and very painful death, and her horror will be the last thing you see. Inteliaaie?”

Back stiff, I nodded again. “I am not a traitor and I only answer to our leader. I understand.”

“Good,” he said, raising his hand. A remote flew from the desk into it. “Remember. No throwing Sadi.”

Dismissed with the bite-in-the-ass kind of warning, I left the office and nearly plowed right into my sister as I exited the atrium.

She gripped my arm, her fingers digging into my skin. “What in the hell were you thinking?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be getting him a late-night snack?”

Her eyes flashed. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed in there protecting her.”

I stared at her for a moment, searching for something, anything in her, and came up with nothing. I gently removed her hand. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Daemon.”

Ignoring her, I headed through a sitting area and then took the steps two at a time. When I reached the second landing, I could already hear the shouting coming from the third floor.

Jesus.

Something shattered above me, and I took off, hauling ass. I reached the last door on the third floor in less than a second. Pushing it open, I scanned the bedroom as I wondered how I was going to stop myself from throwing Sadi through something.

The bedroom was empty, but it looked like a tornado had gone through it. The olive-green armchair was toppled over onto its side, one of the wooden legs broken. The white curtains had been pulled down from the window. The dirtied and bloodied pillows were strewn across the floor.

And the shirt she had been wearing—my shirt—rested in shredded tatters at the foot of the bed. What in the hell?

My gaze whipped toward the bathroom door when I heard what sounded like a body bouncing off it, and then a shriek blasted the room.

I kicked open the bathroom door and came to a complete stop. The room was large, the kind that had a separate tub and shower, but this room, too, had seen better days. The mirror above the double sink was broken. Multiple bottles had been tipped open. White cream covered the floor in milky pools.

She stood in front of the large tub, her hair a tangled mess around her flushed face. Gray eyes snapped fire as she stood with her legs spread wide. A trickle of blood ran from her nose. In her hand she held a jagged piece of glass.

And she was only in her bra and jeans—a white bra with little yellow daises on it. Her chest heaved with indignation and fury.

Apparently, Sadi had taken the cleaning thing to a whole different level.

My gaze crept to where Sadi stood only a few feet from her, breathing heavily. Her white blouse was torn. Buttons popped and missing. Her normally coiffed hair looked like she’d been inside a wind tunnel, but the best part?

Fingernail marks were etched down the side of Sadi’s face and reddish-blue blood had been drawn. A disturbing level of pride rippled through me.

Kitten got claws and then some.

“She doesn’t play nice with others,” Sadi huffed out. “So I’m in the process of adjusting her attitude.”

“And I’m in the process of getting ready to cut out your heart, bitch.”

In spite of everything that was so damn messed up, my lips twitched into a small smile. “Get out.”

Sadi turned her hateful gaze on me. “I’m—”

“Get the hell out.” When Sadi didn’t move, I stalked over to where she stood, picked her up, and shoved her out of the bathroom. She caught herself and started back toward us. “Rolland has a use for you tonight, so if you want to be able to come through for him, don’t take one more step toward me.”

Her nostrils flared as her cheeks mottled with anger, but she stopped as her hands curled into claws. A second passed and she didn’t move from the doorway. Sadi was going to test me—she seriously was.

I slammed the bathroom door shut in Sadi’s face and then whipped around. Heart hammering, I saw her again and immediately forgot about Sadi.

She still stood in front of the garden tub, the piece of glass in her hand, and she stared back at me like an animal cornered. In that moment she didn’t remind me of a harmless little kitten.