A Drake car was idling just outside.

I reached it first as Celestina swung around to watch our backs. I climbed in, my heart racing as Celestina jumped in after me and slammed the door shut.

“Go!” she barked.

The car tires squealed, and I was thrown back against my seat when it shot forward.

I opened my mouth, intending to start a rant, but I noticed Celestina’s pinched expression.

She didn’t know what was going on either. That meant she probably didn’t know if it was Mason, or the Night Court, and she obviously hadn’t sensed them or she would have blocked the paint ball.

And that, more than the actual experience, terrified me.

When we arrived back at Drake Hall, things were in an uproar. Like, Killian must have called in the rest of the Drake Family because vampires I had never seen before walked the hallways with flinty expressions.

Training was still canceled—we didn’t even have the regular dinner that night—so I spent most of my time hanging around the kitchen talking to the staff I knew and attempting to pry news from any familiar vampires who passed through.

Apparently—from the little pieces of news I managed to get—the shooter was a Night Court fae who had been caught, but then killed himself with a magic ring before he could be questioned.

The identity of the paint ball shooter didn’t shock anyone, but the entire situation made all the vampires jumpy, and I can’t say I liked it much more. I mean…why would you try to shoot me with a paint ball?

The vampires ran a sample of the paint ball through a lab, and it was exactly that—paint. Queen Nyte sent one of her fae in—and he died—just to shoot me with a paint ball?

Killian summoned me to his office with a text around noon the following day. For a vampire that was an almost ungodly hour to rise, but I didn’t think anything about it as I impatiently yanked the door open, until I saw him.

Between the crumpled blood pouches on his desk, his lack of his black suitcoat and perfect tie, and the way his skin seemed extra pale, I was almost positive Killian hadn’t slept since the paint ball incident—maybe not even since before the Summer’s End Ball.

I hesitated in the doorway. “Killian, are you okay?”

Killian glanced at me, and the blackness of his eyes felt sharp like a sword. “Come in.”

I slipped inside and noticed Josh standing just inside the door. The weapon-loving vampire’s eyes were fixated on some point across the room, and he didn’t blink when I passed in front of him.

Was he sleeping while standing upright or something?

I approached Killian’s desk, my eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I heard about the confirmed attacker—and his…demise,” I said.

Killian shrugged and stared at what looked like a fancy, handwritten letter based on the creamy color and thickness of the paper.

“Did Queen Nyte send you a nastygram about that?” I asked.

Killian stood so fast he knocked his chair back. “What?”

“I asked if Queen Nyte sent you a nastygram—a letter of complaint,” I carefully said.

It was unlike Killian to not know modern slang—even if he didn’t use it. But it was probably just another sign of how tired he was.

The door clicked, and I twisted around just long enough to see that it was Celestina before Killian walked around his desk, redrawing my attention.

He stopped just short of invading my space. When he raised his hands and reached in my direction I thought he meant to drape them over my shoulders or something, but instead he folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes.

I kind of wanted to smack him. The last time I saw him we’d kissed, and now he was acting like a caged animal. “Killian, what is it?”

Killian glanced at the letter he’d left facedown on his desk, then he returned his eyes to mine. “Leave.”

I let out a nasally sigh. “Did you seriously call me all the way to your office just to send me right back out?”

“No.” Killian smirked—the one he used when closing a trap on someone. “I called you here to banish you from Drake Hall.”

Chapter Eighteen

Hazel

I blinked as I tried to process what he had said. “Did you fall on your head after I left the ball yesterday?”

“We’re finished.” Killian’s smirk had an edge of smugness to it. “You are no longer allowed in Drake Hall, nor are you to be treated like a member of the Drake Family. You will leave the premise immediately.” His voice was the dangerously-charming voice I’d heard him use when meeting politicians and people he didn’t like—it held more raw vampire power than usual.

What is he trying to do?

I pressed my lips together. “Killian, knock it off, and tell me what’s going on. After everything I’ve gone through, your big-bad-vampire routine isn’t frightening.” Much.

Killian made an amused noise at the back of his throat. “Fine, then maybe you’ll understand this: you are no longer worth the investment.”

That caught my attention.

Killian, with his manipulations and conniving plots, was a lot more likely to pull back if he judged that the bottom line wasn’t worth it. “What do you mean?” I cautiously asked. “I’ve fought my way to your top five vampires.”

Killian leaned against his desk, his dark eyes glittering. “You have plenty of fighting power, but I don’t need more of that. What I wanted was a way in with the wizards. Celestina told me of your conversation with Mason, which means I know you are no longer Adept of House Medeis.”

I curled my hands into fists as I tried to sort through his words. Was this some kind of joke? Or was he serious?

“I considered keeping you on regardless,” he continued. “But the Elite’s reaction made me realize just how useless an endeavor that would be. No one would trust you because of your association with the Drake Family.”

A bitter taste filled my mouth. “I don’t believe you—or any of this. I don’t get what you’re trying to accomplish right now, Killian, so just tell me what’s really going on.”

I thought a muscle jumped around Killian’s left eye, but it was so fast I couldn’t be certain. He stared at me for several long moments, his expression unreadable, then turned his back to me. He sauntered back to his desk chair and plopped down, arranging himself in a lounging position that showed off his vampire grace, then stared at me with cold, hard eyes.

“You certainly show off the wizard trait of stupidity to its fullest potential. Dissatisfied with the explanation? Fine. Not only are you no good to me since your chances of regaining your House have fallen, you are no longer trusted among your own. Therefore, you are useless to me. Admittedly, it was my mistake in backing you so strongly, but what’s done is done. I have no mercy for those I can’t use, so I am removing my offer of protection and ending our contract.”

That felt too possible to write off. I bit my tongue as I tried to hold in the hot burst of emotion that threatened to tear me in half. Rage and hurt seesawed back and forth, each stabbing Killian’s words a little deeper into my heart.

“If this was your big plan, why are you telling me?” I fought to keep my voice strong and calm rather than let my anger or the throb of pain give me away.

Killian stared at me his face expressionless. “Because I know there’s no possible way you can take back House Medeis by yourself. And once it’s known I no longer back you, your fellow wizards will lose all interest in you. You are without friends and family, now. There is no place for you to go, so it doesn’t matter what I tell you.”

Oh, now that was a lie. I swung around, opening my mouth to tell Celestina to back me up.

That was when I realized a backpack hung from her grip. The red of her eyes was the same cold red of glittering rubies—beautiful, but distant. She wasn’t smiling, wasn’t frowning, instead she stared at me as if I were a task she had to complete.

I turned to Josh, but he was just as expressionless and just as cold.

The silence of the office was so suffocating I could hear myself breathe as I slowly turned back to face Killian.

“Celestina has gathered your belongings. Take them and leave, now,” he said.

I stared at him, studying the set of his eyebrows, trying to gauge the blackness of his eyes.

I still didn’t believe it.

Not because I was stupidly optimistic, but because I was a trained wizard. No matter what original purpose Killian had for me, at worst I could still work for him sensing fae magic—something no one except a wizard could do, and something that would be extremely helpful given his ongoing feud with Queen Nyte.

But something had happened. Killian was turning on me out of a lack of trust. He obviously wasn’t willing to tell me everything or ask for help. I didn’t know why he wanted to run me out of Drake Hall, but what hurt me most—what caused the bitter taste in my mouth and the squeezing of my chest—was that after everything I’d done with him, and with the Drake Family, he still didn’t trust me. They didn’t trust me.

It felt stupid that their trust was so important, but it was.

I glanced at Celestina and Josh again—who were still expressionless.

Obviously, I had overestimated our closeness. I’d forgotten that as Killian’s underlings, we couldn’t ever really be friends. Not the way it was with Momoko and Felix. They would serve Killian until every bit of blood ran from their body, and they didn’t care if they had to sacrifice me to do what he wanted.

I’m such an idiot.

“Fine,” I said. I took the backpack from Celestina and started to turn to the door.

Killian scoffed. “Congratulations on finally accepting the obvious.”

“No.” I swung back around and pointed a finger at him. “It’s too late. You can’t hide it from me when you are masking yourself and your actions. I know you. You’re up to something, and you don’t want me around anymore, fine. Whatever. This is a clear wakeup call of exactly how much you trust and value me, and I’m not going to beg to stay where I’m not wanted.”