It’s a cruel fate that Anna showed up at my gig that night last summer. It’s cruel that I opened my heart for the first time in my life to the one person who could so utterly annihilate me with her goodness. It’s a cruel fate that I pushed her away to keep her safe, only to lose her anyhow.

But she does have the hilt—the Sword of Righteousness that the nun gave her. I wonder what kind of damage she could do with it tonight. How many Dukes could she kill before she’s taken down? Does she have it in her?

We’re momentarily halted by a load of people spilling out of a club. Anna’s arm brushes mine, and I feel the back of her hand against my palm, then her pinkie winds around mine, deliberately connecting us while it’s too crowded for anyone to notice.

I am flooded with a blinding sense of joy at this simple contact from Anna—this small gesture that shows I still mean something to her. Recklessness overcomes me, and while the street is too crowded for anyone to notice, I pull Anna by the pinkie and she follows easily. I’m holding my breath, so hungry for this moment I can hardly stand it.

I lead her quickly into a small alcove stairway where we rush down, away from the others. It’s dark and smells of damp earth as I turn her to face me and press my mouth to hers. She doesn’t push me away; she pulls me closer. She meets my fierceness with her own, and together we heat each other in the icy air. Our frozen noses and cheeks thaw. Even the air around us steams with warmth. We cling and taste and breathe each other’s breaths.

This stolen kiss tells me everything I need to know. Anna still wants me. Still cares for me. Still needs me.

We break the kiss and I press my forehead to hers. Our breath clouds around us, too hot for the winter air. I watch her as she touches my face, and I can’t understand how anyone could want to hurt her. I don’t want to live in a world where someone like Anna Whitt is in danger for being who she is.

I would trade places with her if I could. In fact, if Anna is to die tonight, so will I. I won’t let her die alone.

When Ginger orders us up from the stairwell, back to reality, everything is a blur. I take a long draw from the flask, relishing the burn and how it dulls my senses. Is this what it’s like, when you know you’re going to die? I’m a zombie as we make our way down into the comedy club for the summit. A dead man walking.

The six of us sit as far from the Dukes as possible. The Aussie Neph guarding the door doesn’t find the knives hidden in the compartments of my boots. I bend down at our table while everyone’s busy and take them out, sliding them into my pockets. Blake notices, his jaw tightening. He won’t look directly at me, but he’s blinking and I know he wants to ask me what the hell I’m thinking.

I lace my fingers over my abdomen and lean back. When the time comes, I don’t want him involved. I don’t expect anyone to try to save me.

I drink more.

Father takes the stage and I stare without expression as he cordially welcomes the Dukes and Legionnaires and Azael, the personal messenger of Lucifer who might’ve been the spirit circling Anna at that party before Belial showed—still don’t know what that was about. Father welcomes Rahab, the Duke of Pride, to the stage, and I feel the burn of bile and bourbon rising as Rahab reminds all of us Neph of our place in the world.

“Your life is not your own. You were bred to serve us. . . . There is one among you who has been warned, and yet still chooses poorly.”

Has been warned? Was Anna ever warned? I wait for the bomb to drop, but Rahab never even looks toward Anna. He stares toward a middle table full of Neph.

“Gerlinda. Daughter of Kobal.”

Bloody hell. My eyes shoot around the room as it all becomes clear.

It’s not about Anna. They’re after another Neph.

I school my body and my face not to react. I must not exhale loudly or slump with relief. I sit rigidly and take a celebratory sip of bourbon, though I’m quite buzzed enough to block any bond from showing.

I lean forward and steal a glance toward Anna, and the look on her face punctures my heart, deflating my relief.

She is staring at the stage and the Neph Gerlinda with unguarded horror, as if she might scream or cry as the Dukes begin to heckle.

No, Anna, I want to say. Sit silent and be grateful. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. You don’t even bloody know her . . . but since when has that mattered to Anna? She is a bleeding heart for injustice, and I know it will scar her to witness this. I don’t particularly want to view this show myself, so I know it’s a million times worse for her.

Shite, she needs to just stare at the wall and try to block it out or something. But every time I glance down she’s fervently watching, even moving her lips.

Please, Anna, please. For the love of God, keep your damn mouth shut.

She is making me so nervous. If she can just make it through this, we’ll all be all right. I know it’s cruel of me, but I don’t care about Gerlinda or what’s happening to her onstage. I can block it out. I can only hope Belial has taught this skill to Anna.

I’m beginning to sweat in this stupid button-up shirt. It’s freezing outside, but a thousand degrees in here. I undo the next button on my shirt and take another drink. Gin shoots me a “stay still” glare.

The entire room tenses and I look up for the first time, allowing myself to fully see what’s happening. Rahab has raised the gun to the Neph woman’s head. I’ve never seen anyone die before. I start to shift my eyes away when I hear a lovely voice call out from several seats down, and my heart stops.

“No!” Anna shouts.

Oh, my God. Her voice rings in my ears, echoing. No, no, no . . .

Everyone turns toward our tables, staring in shock. Rahab yells, “Which of you dares to speak out at this sacred summit?”

This cannot be happening. Why, Anna, why? Why can’t you be a silent bystander just once?

The room begins to spin as they bring Anna to the stage. My stomach rolls. I move to the edge of my seat, and I see Kopano grip the table edge in front of him. All eyes in the room are on Anna, but Belial slightly turns and eyes our group of Neph in the corner. With one hand at his side he cups it downward and presses down as if to say Stay seated.

Does he have a plan?

It’s taking every ounce of my energy to remain seated while Anna is up there under Rahab’s scrutiny. I have no idea how she can manage to appear both fragile and strong all at once.

Father waves a hand in the air, and my stomach drops when he speaks. “Good Hades, Belial! She’s still a virgin!”

The room gasps in unison. Blake flinches next to me, and Kope scoots forward. Marna covers her mouth, but Ginger slaps her hand quickly down.

The Dukes argue about how to deal with Anna and why she is still pure. All I can do is stare at her face, at the fear in her creased brow. By now, Rahab is furious that his show’s been interrupted by an insolent Neph, and he’s ready to punish her with or without her father’s permission. He shoves Gerlinda out of the way and hits Anna in the side of the head. My hand is in my pocket and I’m halfway to my feet before Blake grabs my arm like a steel vise and yanks me back down.

Anna gets up again, standing strong as she takes yet another hit. The sound of her involuntary cry makes me struggle to take in air. I want her to reach for the hilt and murder him. I want him dead. Why isn’t she using the sword?

Rahab points to the gun on the table and snarls at Anna. “To make amends for disrupting our session, you will complete it for us. You will kill her yourself.”

Shite. She will not pull that trigger. And he knows it. Everything with these bastards is a test or a game. And the rules are always stacked to ensure our failure.