“Any secret messages from Cheryl in your blood bag today?” Crow asked, though he already knew the answer. He just liked to keep up conversation. I think it worried him when I got too quiet and withdrawn.
Three days ago, I’d gotten a hidden note inside a blood bag from my eccentric, self-centered friend. I was certain that Stiles arranged it. The guard that delivered it wasn’t our usual, and I’d been keeping an eye out for him ever since, but I hadn’t spotted him.
“No,” I replied with a slump of my shoulders.
“It’s probably for the best,” Crow replied. “I’m really not in the mood for another monologue about how angry she is at us for being on television for the trial and not bothering to put makeup on.”
I snorted before reading the letter again.
Dear Motley, Stiles says I need to keep this short, but there’s way too much to say. I saw you on the news, and I have to be honest, it wasn’t your best day. The TV didn’t just add ten pounds, hun, it added pasty skin and under eye circles too. I won’t get started on your hair. I don’t have the room on this paper. You should’ve really asked Vick to get you and your mates some makeup for the event. At least try to get the public to like you, you know? All they’ve seen otherwise is you going all murder-y and killing, like, a hundred people. Concealer would’ve been a big plus.
Anyway, Stiles got us out. I’m not allowed to say where, just in case this note gets confiscated, but right now, I’m drinking a mai tai, and I’m working on my tan. Some of the others are here, but most of them split up and went their own ways. Stiles was really strict about them lying low for awhile though, which is awful because I was really hoping to invite everyone over for an engagement party once Stiles and I get settled. A winter wedding would just be divine, don’t you think? And—
Hey, Motley. Stiles here. Sorry about...all of the above writing. When I told Cheryl we could smuggle in a letter, I didn’t think she’d start blabbering, but I should’ve known better. I’ve been pardoned for my superior blood line. It’s a bunch of fucking shit. I signed a contract to never use my powers and to work for the council. A few other paragons and influential members of society were privately given the same deal. Cheryl also was pardoned because of our engagement and her family’s standing in the community. She bragged about her family until she was blue in the face, but what else is new? I guess they didn’t want to publicly show preference for the elite. Twenty-three of us made it out. We lost...a lot. But twenty-three lives counts for something.
I tried to break you and your mates out, but I couldn’t get to you. They want to make an example of you. We all know the real enemy, Motley, and I won’t rest until they’re punished. I’m so sorry I know I’ve been a shit brother all your life, and our father was even shittier. By the way, if you’re worried that I’m angry with you about our father’s death, I’m not. He had it coming.
Hang in there, okay? I need a week, and then I can get you guys out. I have a plan.
—Stiles
I looked over at Crow. “I don’t want him getting caught trying to break us out of here. That could go really badly for him.”
Crow just shrugged and pushed his blue hair out of his face, clearly not as concerned with Stiles’s safety as I was. “He’s an adult, and he’s on the outside. If he thinks there’s a way to get to us, then he can have at it. There’s no use worrying over something you have no control over.”
I knew Crow was right, but I still didn’t like the idea that Stiles would get caught and then killed because of me. I also wasn’t a martyr. I didn’t want to be left behind, but I knew that enforcers were crawling all over this place. Security was even tighter than Spector.
Crow’s thumb came up, dragging my bottom lip out from between my gnawing teeth. “Don’t bite that lip of yours off. I like it too much,” he said quietly before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on my mouth.
Pulling back, he moved his thumb up between my brows. “And this frown. I don’t like seeing this frown on my mate,” he murmured, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the spot until the tension left my brows.
“That’s better,” he said before placing a kiss there.
His hands went back to kneading my feet and warming my toes until I was practically melted against him. “Why are you so good to me?” I asked, placing my hand against his chest as I rested my head on his shoulder.
“You’re my mate,” he said simply.
My heart swelled at those simple words, and I traced the lines of his muscled chest, thinking about everything we’d been through. “Crow, when you escaped Spector the first time, how did you do it?” I asked curiously.
He tensed beneath me, and I looked up at him curiously. “It’s not a nice story, Little Spider.”
“Please tell me?” I asked.
He let out a sigh, and his hands went back to his ministrations on my feet. “I can’t help but think what would have happened if I’d been able to save you that night during Thibault’s ritual,” he said. “My demon knew that his mate was there. Even if I didn’t understand it yet, my birds knew.”
“You
