Finale

his living room didn’t
appear to improve his mood.
    He regarded us with dark, evaluating eyes. “This can’t be good.”
    “I’ll go first,” Dabria began, sucking in a rattling breath.
    “Not even close,” I shot back. I faced Patch directly, cutting Dabria out of the conversation. “She kissed you! And Dante, who’s been tailing you, by the way, caught it
on camera. Imagine my surprise when
that’s
what I got an eyeful of earlier tonight. Did you even think to tell me?”
    “I told her
I
kissed you, and that you pushed me away,” Dabria protested shrilly.
    “What are you still doing here?” I exploded at Dabria. “This is between me and Patch. Leave already!”
    “What
are
you doing here?” Patch echoed to Dabria, his tone sharpening.
    “I—broke in,” she sputtered. “I was scared. I couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Hanoth and the other Nephilim.”
    “You have
got
to be kidding me,” I said. I looked to Patch for corroboration, hoping he wasn’t going to fall for her damsel-in-distress ploy. Dabria had come here
tonight looking for one particular brand of comfort, and I didn’t approve. Not one bit.
    “Go back to the safe house,” Patch ordered Dabria. “If you’d stay there, you’d be safe.” Despite his exhaustion, his words adopted a harsh note. “This
is the last time I’m going to tell you to keep your head down and stay out of trouble.”
    “For how long?” Dabria practically whimpered. “I’m lonely there. Everyone else in the house is human. They look at me funny.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “I
can help you. This time I won’t make any mistakes. If you let me stay here—”
    “Go,” Patch commanded her sharply. “You’ve stirred up enough trouble already. With Nora, and with the Nephilim you followed. We can’t be sure what conclusions
they’ve drawn, but one thing is certain. They know you’re after Blakely. If they have any brains at all, they’ve also figured out that means you know why Blakely is vital to their
operation, and what he’s doing in that secret lab of his, wherever it is. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve moved the whole operation. And we’re back at square one, no
closer to finding Blakely and disabling devilcraft,” Patch added with frustration.
    “I was only trying to help,” Dabria whispered, her lips trembling. With one last look at Patch that resembled that of a scolded puppy, she saw herself out.
    That left Patch and me alone. He strode across the room without hesitating, even though I was sure my expression was far from inviting. He rested his forehead against mine and shut his eyes. He
exhaled, long and slow, as if weighed down by an invisible force.
    “I’m sorry,” he said quietly and with genuine remorse.
    The bitter words, “Sorry about the kiss, or merely sorry I saw it?” balanced on the tip of my tongue, ready to spring, but I swallowed them back. I was tired of dragging around my
own invisible weight—comprising jealousy and doubt.
    Patch’s regret was so sharp it was nearly tangible. As much as I disliked and distrusted Dabria, I couldn’t blame him for saving her butt. He was a better man than he gave himself
credit for. I suspected that years ago, a very different Patch would have responded to the situation in another way. He was giving Dabria a second chance—something he, too, fought for
daily.
    “I’m sorry too,” I murmured into Patch’s chest. His strong arms folded me into an embrace. “I saw the pictures, and I’ve never been so upset or scared. The
thought of losing you was—unimaginable. I was so angry at her. I still am. She kissed you when she shouldn’t have. For all I know, she’ll try it again.”
    “She won’t, because I’m going to make it very clear how things are to be between us from now on. She crossed a line, and I’ll make her think twice about doing it
again,” Patch said with resolve. He tipped my chin up and kissed me, letting his lips linger when he spoke. “I wasn’t expecting to come home to you, but now that you’re
here, I have no intention of letting you leave.”
    Hot, aching guilt swept through me. I couldn’t be close to Patch and not feel my lies hanging between us. I’d lied to him about devilcraft. I was still lying. How could I have done
it? Self-disgust boiled up in me, filled with shame and loathing. I wanted to confess everything, but where to start? I’d been so negligent, letting the lies blaze out of