Chapter 15 · The Massacre File

The contact Ella called didn't ask questions. He just gave us an address in Brooklyn and hung up.

Drake's leaning against the passenger window now, eyes closed, but I know he's not sleeping. His jaw's too tight. Every few minutes his hand drifts to his side where the sanctified silver's still burning through his veins. My blood bought him maybe six hours before the next wave hits.

"You gonna tell me who we're meeting?" he asks without opening his eyes.

"Someone who owes me."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting right now."

He cracks one eye open. "You know I just torched my entire career for you, right? Guild's gonna label me rogue. Maybe worse."

"You torched it for Lucas," I correct. "I'm just the contamination they're using as an excuse."

"Same thing." He shifts in his seat, wincing. "They took him because of the blood pact. Because he helped me cover it. Vera's not stupid—she knows Lucas didn't sell me out."

"Then why show you his badge?"

Drake's quiet for a beat. "Because she wants me to come after him. It's bait."

"Obviously.