“Hello, Chloe.” The voice is frustratingly polite. “I thought it time for us to talk, just you and I.”

I shove the rest of the hotdog in my mouth and eye Jens Belladonna suspiciously. He has, after weeks of personal surveillance, finally approached me now that I’m out by myself. I guess I thought it’d be under better circumstances than me gorging myself in public, but that’s the thing about an ambush. If you could predict it, it wouldn’t be a blindside.

A small bit of disgust flares in his eyes—over me and my supposedly murderous nature or my gluttonous exhibition, I don’t know. “Shall we sit down?” He points to a bench nearby.

I swallow my overly large bite and nod. Caleb orders me to stay in full view of the hot dog cart; the Gnomes running it know me well. Once we are seated, Jens says, “I do love Annar at this time of year.”

My head tilts towards him in amazement. He wants to talk about the weather?

“There’s change in the air,” he continues. “The turning of seasons. So subtle at first, yet before you know it, one has left and another is upon us, and the two are nothing alike. So similar to life, is it not?” He smiles, but it’s not a friendly one. It’s . . . indulgent. Calculated, even.

“If you’re talking about you losing your job,” I begin, but he talks over me.

“I ran the Guard for a long time, Creator. It’s who I am.” His smile grows. “The Council doesn’t truly understand the Guard, I’m afraid. Whereas you are part of a political beast, the Guard is more of a . . .” He considers his word choice. “Family. Nobody can come in and banish a member of a family. Our ties are strong.”

“You accused me of murder.” I’m angry, more so than I’ve been in a long time. “You don’t even know me, spoke at most ten words before today, and you accused me of doing something so horrible that—” I cut myself off. How can he think that of me?

“That, what?” Jens asks mildly. “That your kind isn’t capable of such atrocities? Let me ask you something. How many Techs do you know of who’ve gone on killing sprees?”

The truth is, I have no idea, but I’m not going to clue him in on my ignorance.

He rattles off a dozen more crafts before saying, “The point being, murder within our community is rare. There are isolated incidents over the years, true—but there’s a pattern with Creators. No other craft can claim such a thing.”

Damn him for being smart enough to do his homework before jumping me. “Two do not make a pattern,” I grind out.

“No,” he agrees. “Two do not. But when Creators are so rare, and five have been found guilty of murdering their own kind over the last thousand years, I’d call that a pattern.”

FIVE? But, Etienne told me about two . . .?

“I understand it, you know. We call you Creators, but you are also Destroyers. Think about how many things you have destroyed over the last year alone for the Council. It’s . . . alluring, I suspect, to wield such power. To have such control over something, someone’s existence.”

I am horrified by his logic. “Destroying atolls and abandoned hilltop cities aren’t the same as killing people!”

He leans back against the green slats of the bench behind us. “Tell that to the people in the locations you obliterated.”

My mind goes splinter still for a moment. Is he accusing me of killing nons, too?

“Did you know that there were hikers in the Gnomish cliff dwellings that you destroyed?” he asks in a terribly conversational tone. “Two. They died of injuries sustained from the cliff’s collapse days afterwards.”

Caleb tries to calm me down, but it’s no good. I am outside, and there is not enough air to pull in my lungs. “I . . . I . . .” I turn and face him. “I had no idea they were there. The cliffs were supposed to be deserted!”

“Fifty-two nons died over the years at the hands of Kleeshawnall Rushfire,” Jens continues. “Intentional or not, those deaths are his responsibility.” Jens’ elegant fingers tent in front of his chest for several seconds. I watch them, so still. He is so sure.

“Other crafts . . . they cause deaths. Hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanoes—” My voice cracks. This can’t be. He has to be lying.

“I’m not saying they don’t. I’m simply pointing out that your protests of innocence are worthless in light of how you’ve already caused the deaths of two nons in less than a year.”

I’m beyond queasy. My eyes flood with bitter tears. Why did no one tell me this? Even worse, how could I not know instinctually? I should know if someone’s life was extinguished because of me.

Shouldn’t I?

I should have scouted the locations personally before destroying them. I should’ve—

“Nividita’s wedding was supposed to be two days ago,” Jens continues, unrelenting. “Did you know that? Or that Harou’s best friend just had a baby, and he was to be godfather? Or that Earle recently lost his husband, and was struggling to reclaim normalcy in his life?”

“Stop—” I gasp, because it’s too much. It’s all too much.

“Would it have helped, had you known these things?” Jens presses, and I’m flat out shivering now, unable to even get the words out to defend myself.

But Alex can, because he’s suddenly standing in front of us, murder in his own eyes. For all of his surveillance, Jens must’ve miscalculated the time I was supposed to meet with my friend this afternoon, ironically to discuss him of all things. “Get the hell away from her,” he barks.

Jens stands up and brushes away imaginary lint from his slacks. “We were simply talking.”

Alex’s eyes narrow. “Right. Well, go talk to somebody else, asshole.”

The former head of the Guard gives me another of his calculated smiles. “Think about what I’ve said.” And then he walks away.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, sitting in his spot. I shake my head, and Alex throws an arm around my shoulders. “I swear, Chloe. We will find a way to neutralize this guy.”

But Jens Belladonna is the least of my concerns now. There are two other people who’ve taken his place.

Astrid and Callie are at Jonah’s when I get home after heading to a drugstore first to obtain ibuprofen for another raging headache. Kellan’s here, too. They’re all laughing while sitting around, drinking tea and coffee, and the sight of this forces me to paste a smile on my face that is one of the fakest I’ve ever managed.

“Chloe!” Astrid stands up to hug me. Normally I’d soak up this bit of affection for all its worth, but I can’t stand the thought of anyone touching me. Caring for me. Not after what I’ve done. Two lives. Two. “I was hoping to catch you before we left,” she’s saying. Both boys’ attentions immediately laser in on me, no doubt as a result of my unsteady psyche. But I ignore them and their concern and choose, instead, to sit next to Callie, who has isolated herself as far away from Jonah as she can possibly get. I can’t explain it, but she feels like the safest choice here.

I build up an emotional shield around me. I’m so stupid. I should have done it before I even walked through the door. I don’t want Jonah worrying about this. He has enough on his plate nowadays, what with his recent elevation and responsibilities in the Council.

Callie gives me an assessing look over before turning back to the conversation at hand. Jonah attempts to ask me what’s wrong, but Callie bulldozes right over his question with a breakdown of sales she’s noticed over the weekend. It shuts Jonah up, but it doesn’t do anything for the worry in his eyes.

I choose to ignore it. I ignore the mirrored reflection in Kellan’s as well; at least he has the grace to not try to drag anything out of me in front of Astrid and Callie. “We were hoping to have a family dinner tonight,” Astrid is saying once Callie’s finished with her blessedly lengthy report. It takes me a moment to realize she’s directed her statement at me.

“That’d be great,” I say at the same time Jonah says, “I don’t think—”

“We used to do weekly family dinners,” Astrid continues. “To ensure everyone was caught up with what everyone else was doing. But that fell to the wayside once the boys moved to California. Now that everyone is back in the same city, I’m afraid I’m insisting on reinstating the tradition or I may never know what my loved ones are up to.”

“There’s this amazing invention called a telephone,” Callie mutters from next to me. “Better yet, there’s email.”

“Yes, well, phone calls are all well and good, but I prefer seeing for myself how you’re all doing.” As if on cue, Astrid’s phone goes off at that very moment. She pulls it out of her purse and sighs. Her three kids make pointed comments about this irony before she moves off to the kitchen to answer it.

“Chloe,” Jonah tries again, but Callie once more cuts him off.

“I was thinking of hitting up the boutique a block south from here. There’s a skirt there that I’ve been eyeing for a couple weeks now. Want to come along?” she asks me.

“Yes,” I say right away. I stand up at the same time Callie does. I can’t do what he wants. I can’t talk about this yet.

“We’ll see you guys at the restaurant,” Callie says for the both of us. She grabs her purse and leans down to say something to Kellan. I take the moment to press a quick kiss against Jonah’s cheek.

“Chloe,” he tries for a third time, reaching for my arm, but I evade his grasp. And then I leave.

Callie doesn’t ask why I’m upset, even though she’d have to be blind and heavily concussed not to notice. I’m back to shaking now that I don’t have to pretend. And my head feels like it’s underwater, there’s so much pressure there. Despite all of this, it’s pleasantly surprising and kind when she says, “Emotionals can be a real pain in the ass when you’re putting on a brave face,” before leaving us in silence for the rest of the walk.

We do not end up going to a store. Instead, Callie takes me to a pub half a mile away. She orders us two shots apiece as we sit on stools at the bar, which we down quickly. Caleb disapproves, but I tell him to leave me alone.

“So,” Callie finally says. “Can I tell you something?”

Our shot glasses form a neat row in front of us. “Sure.”

She makes a face before rubbing at her hair. It goes static-y for the briefest of moments, making her look as haggard as I feel. “It’s hard to be around your boyfriend. Or should I say, my brother? ‘Cause that’s all he is now.”

I stare at her for a couple of seconds before a bubble of laughter escapes my lips. Her grimace turns upwards in a rueful grin that could mirror her mother’s. “I know. Pathetic, right?”

“No,” I tell her. “You’re just . . . I’d say Human, but you’re an Elf, too.”

It’s her turn to laugh, all throaty and warm. “Is it wrong that I make sure he feels just how uncomfortable I am with all of this? How . . . mad, I guess, and hurt, I still am?” She puts a finger up for another shot but then thinks twice about it, explaining her mother will kill her if we show up tanked at dinner.

I think about what she’s said, though, grateful to focus on somebody else’s problems. “No. He was your first love. What would be weird would be you two completely at ease with one another this soon.” Which sounds like the right thing to say, but as my experience with love is limited, too, and even more messed up than hers, I can’t be a hundred percent certain I’m telling her the truth.

“Between me and Jonah,” she says, propping her head up on a bent elbow and fist, “and you and Kellan, tonight is going to be a real blast.” She chuckles under her breath. “If there’s ever been a messed up family made for a daytime talk show, it’d be our incestuous one.”

I snort and then giggle at the ridiculous noise.

She grins, her silvery hair spilling down against the sticky bar—but she doesn’t care. I like that about her, envy, even. She seems comfortable in her skin, despite what she’s just said. And even though she’s talking to me about my Connection, the man I’m going to marry, I can tell she feels lighter now that she’s told me this and I’m glad for it.

“Can I tell you something?” She nods, and there’s an urge in me to confide in her, too. It doesn’t make sense, and is probably the worst idea ever, but Callie—bristly, gorgeous, damaged Callie Lotus—suddenly feels like one of the safest people to talk to. “Being a Creator sucks.”

She considers this. “I should imagine it does.”

So many people are always asking me what’s wrong; but not her. I like how she takes what I have to offer and doesn’t press for more details.

I don’t ask her any questions about Jonah. She doesn’t ask me anything else, either. We stay in the pub for the rest of the hour, sitting next to each other in silence, and it’s exactly what I need.

“How was shopping?” Jonah asks me at dinner. He’s like a hawk, this boy. Nothing gets by him.

I shrug and say, “Fine,” which is basically girl-speak for NOT FINE. His brows knit in concern at the same time Kellan asks Callie about her afternoon.

“Since when do you give two shits about shopping?” she snarls, but it’s all bark and no bite. Astrid admonishes her, but Kellan merely smiles in return.

It’s then I notice Jens Belladonna at a table across the restaurant. He holds up his wine glass in a silent toast to me. Two of the glasses of water on our table explode in my anguish. Jonah shoves me back before my lap is soaked; his jeans, though, do not manage to escape. A waiter hurries over and mops up the mess, apologizing like he’d somehow caused the glasses to crack rather than my continued lack of control over my emotions. While Jonah and Astrid repeatedly assure the young man he has nothing to apologize for, Callie catches my eye.

I debate not telling her, but I tilt my head slightly in Jens’ direction anyway.

Her focus swivels to him. He’s now talking to the person at his table, another Guard who Alex informed me earlier is one of his more loyal cronies. Once her glance is over, Callie pounds a fist in her other open hand. Eyebrows rise questioningly.

I choke down a gasp of hysteria. It’d almost be worth it just to see this girl—calm, collected and smooth Callie Lotus—deck a guy in the face. But I end up shaking my head.

She shrugs but pounds her fist one more time. Despite the circumstances of how we came into each other’s orbits, my heart kind of grows in that moment.

“This table is fine,” Astrid is telling the waiter. “We can stay here; it’s no problem.”

“Get lost already,” Kellan snaps at the guy, his fingers drumming against the table. He’s clearly on edge, because he wouldn’t normally be so rude in public like this.

The waiter scurries away, and Astrid rounds on Kellan immediately. “Between you and Callie, I think I’ve had my fill of piss poor behavior today, thank you very much.”

Callie rolls her eyes. Kellan begins to, but apparently thinks better of it. Jonah says nothing while he gets to work dabbing a napkin against his wet knees.

“Tonight is supposed to be a return to normalcy,” Astrid continues, her pale lavender eyes narrowing dangerously.

“It’s normal for us to act like assholes,” Callie mutters. “Or have you forgotten?”

Her mother is appalled. Jonah dabs at the stain harder, like he’s fully aware he’s the cause of Callie’s bad attitude. As Callie and Astrid bicker about appropriate restaurant behavior now that all at the table are officially adults, I can’t help but peek at Jens’ table.

He’s back to watching me, that smug smile that I now know I definitely loathe on his face. I look away quickly, jerking an arm up to do—well, I don’t know, anything, just to keep busy, and manage to knock over my new glass of water. As luck would have it, it dumps right onto Jonah’s lap. He jerks away; horrified, I grab my napkin to help dry him off, but this only serves to send my silverware straight at the table next to us. Startled, the couple sitting there leaps out of their seats.

GODS. REALLY? CAN ANYTHING ELSE GO WRONG?

“It’s fine, Chloe,” Jonah murmurs, taking the napkin away from me before I rip a hole in his jeans from rubbing too hard. It’s then I realize just how close I am to a place I definitely should not be rubbing in public. My cheeks erupt in flames as I slam back into my chair. Thankfully, he excuses himself to go to the restroom before I can wreak any more havoc or continue to feel him up in the middle of a restaurant. In front of his mother. And ex-girlfriend. And brother, who I have also felt up in the past.

This is clearly a nightmare of epic proportions. I want nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed. Find some more medicine for this headache. Gods, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I get rid of these headaches?

Astrid is embarrassingly sympathetic with her reassurances that everything is all right to me and the couple next to us before paging the waiter for yet another glass of water. “I, uh . . .” I stammer, thinking I ought to say something, but then I shut my mouth and decide silence is my best ally.

I need to go to the Library. Find out if what Jens said is true. I wonder if anyone would notice if I went to the bathroom and just didn’t come back?

“Family dinners are the best,” Callie says. To the waiter gingerly placing a noticeably smaller glass of water near me, she orders a bottle of wine. And then, upon consideration, doubles the order.

Astrid sighs and drops her chin into a propped up hand.

Jonah reappears five minutes later, jeans mostly dry. Everyone else at the table is drinking their wine, engaging in forced chitchat. I have assumed a statue pose, too afraid to move even though I’ve been plotting my escape. He’s just about to sit down when his eyes widen and then narrow sharply.

Kellan’s head whips around in the direction Jonah is staring. What are they—oh. They’ve noticed Jens.

Jonah closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he shoves his chair back in place and marches off towards Jens. “Jonah, wait—” I say, but if he’s heard me, he doesn’t care. Kellan stands up, and I try again. “Kellan, don’t—” But he’s no better than his brother.

“Talk about assholes,” Astrid mutters. “There’s the perfect example of one.”

Her daughter chugs the rest of her wine. I stand up. This is my battle, not theirs. I’m a first tier Creator. I don’t want people thinking I’m hiding behind others. “I should—”

“Do nothing,” Astrid says, laying a hand on my arm. “This is between Jonah and Belladonna.”

I hate to think this of such a nice woman, but . . . is she delusional? “It’s me Jens has a problem with! Not Jonah, and certainly not Kellan.”

“Chloe.” Astrid busts out her serious mother tone. “I must respectfully disagree with you. Now, please—sit down and try to enjoy your salad.”

“Mom always gets her way,” Callie tells me, topping my wine off and then pouring a fresh glass for herself. “Might as well do as she says and watch the fireworks.”

The room around us hushes; it’s common knowledge that Jonah and Jens have gone head to head before with Jonah coming out the victor. A rematch between the two of them would be something the gossips in Annar definitely would not want to miss. “You’ve been ordered to not come within a thousand feet of Chloe,” Jonah is saying. His voice is calm. Measured. “Did you lose your sense of distance along with your job?”

What’s this?

Jens’ smile is oily. “Somebody needs to keep an eye on her, Whitecomb.”

Jonah leans down, palms pressed against the table. “That somebody will never be you.” His voice lowers, but we all can still hear him, clear as day. “You are hereby officially banned from Annar until I decide otherwise.”

Gasps surface throughout the restaurant, including at my table. Jens, though—Jens looks like this is nothing.

Callie leans towards her mother. “He can do that? Just him, without a Council vote?”

I tear my eyes away from Jonah long enough to see Astrid nod. And I’m . . . pissed off, to be honest. That I’m sitting at this table, twiddling my thumbs, while Jonah is going to bat for me against one of the most influential Guard members in the last hundred years.

He’s your Connection, Caleb reminds me. Wouldn’t you do the same for him?

Of course I would—but I’ve been accused for so long of being weak, of being naïve that all of this rescuing from the men in my life, sweet as it can be interpreted, grates against my fragile nerves.

“You think you can stalk Chloe for weeks and it not get back to me?” Jonah is saying. “Harass her? Put Trackers on her? Even though the Council has explicitly forbidden you to do so? Do you really think you’re so important, so clever, that you’re above the Council’s reach? Their laws?”

Jonah knew about the Tracker?

Jens remains silent. Muted whispers fill the restaurant. A few people have their cell phones out, videotaping this insanity. As for me, I’m fuming that I’ve been . . . what. Watched? Followed? By not only Jens’ lackeys, but Jonah’s, too?

“I’ve been tolerant, I think,” Jonah continues in that same, calm voice, “of these transgressions out of respect for the service you’ve shown the Guard over the past thirty years. But today . . .” He shakes his head slowly. “You must’ve known I’d hear about what you did at the park.”

Alex is such dead meat.

“All of your efforts to get your job back, spinning your wheels fruitlessly—you can officially kiss that hope goodbye,” Jonah continues. “You’ll never helm the Guard again, let alone work on a single mission for them in the future. You did this to yourself, Belladonna. I gave you ample warning about what I’d do if you went against my orders.”

Jens sets his napkin down and stands up. Despite being an Elf, he is not as tall as Jonah, so he’s forced to look up while talking. “You think you’re so—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kellan suddenly snaps. “You do not get to talk to the Council like this. Remember? It’s what you used to warn us about all the time. Never contradict Council orders. The Council is to be respected at all times.”

Fabulous. Now Kellan is fighting my battles in public. Jens’ focus swivels to him eyebrows high in amusement. “What a good little soldier you are, Kellan Whitecomb.”

Kellan lunges forward, but Jonah holds him back with a single outstretched arm. This keeps getting worse and worse. What do they think they’re going to do, beat Jens up simply because he’s accused me of something they know not to be true?

Just what will they think when they learn I actually have killed? It’s too horrendous, too shameful to even contemplate.

“Your memories of that time you spent with your brother’s fiancée in that cave a few weeks back are most interesting,” Jens is saying to Kellan. His piercing eyes find Jonah. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

My stomach drops onto the floor below me as I can feel the stares of the people surrounding us. “Good call on dinner,” Callie murmurs to her mother.

But Jonah isn’t done. “You’re grasping at straws,” he’s saying. “You have no proof of your allegations, nothing but a three hundred year old grudge the Belladonnas have cultivated. And yet, you continue to persist, thinking you can be the one to avenge the family, especially now you think you’ve found a young Creator to prey upon—and to what end?” Jonah’s smile is cold. “The complete disgrace of the Belladonna name.” He angles his head towards his brother. “Please escort Jens Belladonna to the Transit Station and ensure he goes through a portal. If any Guard are discovered abetting or aiding Belladonna in any way, or facilitate his return to Annar without my explicit permission, they’ll be held to the same punishment.”

The whispering in the room is frenzied. Caleb whistles, Wow. I am a basketful of emotions too mixed up to distinguish any one fully.

“This isn’t over,” Jens tells Jonah. He’s still amazingly unaffected by what just went down. “I will do what’s best for Magical-kind.”

“As will I,” Jonah says in return. And Jens goes quietly, not resisting Kellan in the least. As he passes by my table, five fingers are raised for the briefest of moments. My fists clench into balls at the same time I feel like one finds my gut.

Red wine sloshes across his shirt. And this is the thing, of everything that went down in this room, that finally startles Jens Belladonna. He jerks back in surprise. “Slippery glasses in this restaurant,” Callie says, offering Jens a smirk that is in no way apologetic.

Jens runs his hand across the stain, smearing it. It looks like blood. Kellan shoves him forward before he can say anything to us. “Asshat,” Callie mutters to his retreating back.

“Language!” Astrid exclaims as Jonah makes his way to our table.

Callie rights her glass and fills it. “Hypocrite, thy name is Mother. Didn’t you call him an asshole just ten minutes ago?”

“It’s different,” the Council’s lead Seer mumbles. Jonah sits down next to me and takes my hands.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly. “Do you want to leave? We can leave if you want.”

I can’t believe what just happened. Jens Belladonna just got his ass handed to him, again, by my Connection. Even more, Jonah just made a huge scene in a crowded restaurant while I sat here, in forced helplessness, with his mom and ex-girlfriend. To top it all off, his brother tried to attack his former boss. I don’t know if I ought to be disturbed, grateful, mad, or some kind of mix in between. I decide not to choose.

I wish I was numb. Gods my head hurts.

“Of course she isn’t okay,” Callie tells him. It’s the first time she’s actually directed any words towards Jonah all night. “She’s at the family dinner from hell thanks to you and your brother. You two just acted like cavemen; it’s a wonder you didn’t grab her by the hair and drag her out of here.”

Jonah is ready to argue this, but it’s Astrid who cuts him off. “What Callie is trying to say is that we should try this again another night, sweetling. Besides, Kellan has already left.”

“Because of his high and mighty Council orders,” Callie snorts.

Jonah does say something now. “Jesus, Callie! Will you quit already?”

One of her fingers traces the rim of her glass as she stares back, defiant. And I am suddenly so tired, so just . . . done with all of this. I stand up and grab my damp purse. Jonah’s on his feet immediately.

“Thank you for dinner,” I tell Astrid. The waiter is hovering in the background with a tray of plates. We hadn’t even gotten to the main course.

She stands up and hugs me, telling me she’ll call us tomorrow to check in. Callie sighs and comes around the table and hugs me, too, which is surprising. “Sorry,” she whispers in my ear.

I squeeze her in response.

Jonah is quiet for much of the walk. About a block away from our building, he says, “Can we talk about this?”

I bark out my laughter. “Oh, now you want to talk?”

He sighs. “Chloe—”

I stop mid-stride. “Have you had me followed without my knowledge?”

This surprises him. “No. I had Belladonna followed.” I wait, arms crossed. He continues, “I’m not going to apologize for wanting to keep you safe.”

“Right.” I laugh again. “This was all about keeping me safe. How obvious.”

Now he’s pissed off. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is. I’ve had reliable intel that Belladonna was not going to stop coming after you with his allegations. He planned—”

“Planned what?”

He’s mere inches away now and so angry I can see him vibrating. “To kidnap you.”

I blink, suddenly unsure.

“You don’t understand his family history, Chloe. You don’t know the grudges they’ve held against Creators for a long time.”

I want to scream. “Maybe I would know if, oh yeah, somebody actually told me this stuff!”

“And how would that conversation go?” he asks me. “Should I have said: Hey, Chloe, guess what? I got word that Jens Belladonna, who had a Tracker on you for weeks, is planning on possibly kidnapping you and torturing you soon until you admit to doing something you didn’t do. But, you know—whatever. No big deal.”

“Yes,” I insist, even though I know better. I would have freaked out over him telling me that.

He laughs; it’s bitter. And then he turns away from me and heads in the opposite direction of our apartment. I stay where I am on the sidewalk, utterly confused over what to do. Before I can decide, half a block away, he turns back around and comes back to me. “You know what? No. No. I did the right thing tonight. I am not the only Council member who wants Belladonna’s ass out of Annar. Most of the Guard wanted him gone, too. Had you talked to anyone there, they’d have told you that there’s been dissonance for some time now under his leadership. And no matter what you say, no matter how you complain, I’m not going to ever be sorry that my first instinct in any situation is to protect you.”

But I dig my heels in. “You know how I hate being kept in the dark. You know how it tore me apart when my parents did it to me. And now it’s what you’re doing!”

“Really? That’s how you see it?” he asks, voice cold.

“You keep things from me. Look at the whole Hawaii thing!”

His eyes widen. “Not telling you about a possible kidnapping threat is not the same thing as neglecting to tell you about my real estate portfolio!”

My eyes flood with tears. “Maybe to me it is.”

“Maybe you’re keeping things from me, too,” he counters. “Like whatever happened at the Guard party with Miscanthus and Lightningriver. Like what happened today when you spoke with Belladonna that got you so depressed you could hardly function afterwards. Like what you’re doing with Callie. When did that happen, Chloe? When did you decide that Callie Lotus is a better person to go to than me?”

Touché, Caleb murmurs.

“Are you trying to punish me?” he asks.

“No!”

But he’s totally worked up now. “Because that’s how it feels.”

I guess I hadn’t even thought about what my relationship with Callie might mean for Jonah.

“But like that matters, right?” He shakes his head. “No, of course not. It only matters that I’m the one who’s the open book, that I make sure you’re totally comfortable with everything. Who cares if your secrets and actions hurt me, right?”

This isn’t what I wanted when we started this conversation. “Jonah, I’m . . .” Sorry, is what I want to say. But it seems like I say that phrase way too often to him.

“I’m not going to apologize for what I’ve done tonight,” he says again, more quietly now.

I nod my head slowly, accepting this. We walk home in silence.