The maid paled.

“Get my phone! What are you doing?”

Assail nodded in the direction of the iPhone, which was vibrating on the marble counter well within Naasha’s reach.

The maid went to pick the thing up, fumbled it, and took a verbal lashing as she scrambled to retrieve the cell from the floor.

“Finally—hello? Oh, hello, darling, how kind of you to call. I am devastated, simply devastated. . . .”

Assail crooked his finger at the maid, beckoning her over. The poor thing was statued in panic, however—until Assail mouthed you and safe.

The female came across haltingly. As Naasha continued to play the role of bereft widow, Assail whispered, “Go out the front door. Keep running until you see the others at the bottom of the driveway. Do not come back into this house for any reason. Am I clear?”

The maid nodded and offered a trembling curtsy—and then she was off like the wind, out of the room.

Assail stalked his way over and waited patiently as Naasha continued to talk whilst she trailed her finger across the screen of her iPad. Looming behind her, he was a Grim Reaper who had fucked her—and was about to fuck her again.

When she finally hung up, she said, “Where are you? Where the hell are—”

Assail clamped a hand on the hair on top of Naasha’s head and yanked back. As she dropped the phone, and the tablet scattered to the floor, she started to struggle in earnest—until he put the barrel of the gun into her mouth and stepped off to the side.

Terrified eyes met his.

“This is for Markcus,” he growled.

* * *

“So how’d he do?” Mary asked as Rhym came into her office at Safe Place.

“Your hellren is quite a thing—and he did wonderfully.” The female sat down with a smile, arranging her coat over her legs. “He truly did. He’s got a huge heart.”

“The biggest.” There was a pause, and Mary leaned in over her paperwork. “And you can say it . . . I’m not going to be weird about it. I have to live with him, remember?”

“I don’t know what you’re . . .” Rhym threw her hands up. “Okay, fine. I mean, he’s just ridiculous looking. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mary had to laugh. “I know, I know. And the good news is that he doesn’t particularly care. He’s aware of it, sure, but, jeez, if he took that stuff seriously, his head would be so big, you couldn’t fit him indoors.”

Rhym nodded. “Too right. So, are you ready?”

“Always.” Mary got up and went to shut the door. “Anything you want to know.”

“I’m sorry, I should have done that.”

Mary swiped the air with her hand. “Not to worry.”

Back at her desk, she sat down again and acknowledged, at least to herself, that she was nervous.

Rhym shucked that coat. And then stared at the urn by the lamp. “Is that . . .”

“Yes.” Mary took a deep breath. “That’s Annalye. Originally, Bitty was saying that she wanted to save the ashes for when her uncle came, but now . . .”

“About the uncle. Have you heard anything on him? At all?”

“Not a thing. Rhage even had one of his Brothers search for him. We’ve come up with absolutely nothing.”

Rhym shrugged. “The issue, for me, is how long does the notification period last? Marissa and I agree, this has to be a foster situation while Bitty adjusts and while whatever relations she might have have an opportunity to get in contact with her. But that can’t go on forever. Is it a month? Six months? A year? And how do we do the notifications? What’s fair?”

Mary’s heart jumped off the diving board of her rib cage, somersaulted, and hit her stomach badly, belly-flopping all over the place. Oh, God, a year. Of not knowing for sure. Of wondering every night if they were going to lose her.

Even a month of that seemed like torture.

“Whatever you think is best,” she said as she tried to keep her wince to herself. “But I have to tell you, I’m not a good person to weigh in on all that. As much as I try to be objective, the reality is . . . I just want her for our own.”

“The Old Laws are not really helpful in this regard, although I did check to see what the humans do. When it comes to terminating parental rights, it’s clear that there is a very high standard to be met. But for other relations and next of kin? It depends on state and local law how it’s all handled. Accordingly, I’m going to leave it up to the King—it’s exactly the sort of thing we need him to weigh in on. Plus, because of Rhage’s station, the two of you would have to get his sign-off anyway.”

“That sounds very fair. And I really want to make sure we do this right. It’s too important to cut any corners on.”

“I’m glad you agree—and I’m not surprised.” Rhym sat back. “So tell me about your relationship with Bitty. I’ve seen glimpses of it, but I’d like to get a sense from you not as a professional, but as a person.”

Mary picked up a pen and wove it in and out between her fingers, the way she had when she’d been in college. “I’ve known her ever since she came to the house. I’ve been her primary caseworker the entire time, as you know, and honestly, she was so reserved and self-protective, I thought I was never going to get through to her. I’m aware that this whole adoption thing seems to have just come up since her mother died, but the truth of it is that Bitty’s been on my mind and in my heart for the last two years. I refused to look too close at the opportunity, though. I just . . . as you know, I can’t have children, and when that’s your reality? You don’t want to touch that closed door. All there is, on the other side, are flames that will burn your house down.”