"You ungrateful bitch. I keep a roof over your head, and this is the thanks I get?"
"You could have killed her," I retort, trying to muster up confidence that I don't possess. "What if she goes to the cops, Dad? That bruise on her face is enough to...
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"This is your apartment?" I do a three-sixty, taking in the spacious, well-decorated studio. "Quite an upgrade from your tiny bedroom at the Bishop's house."
"I'm basically Harry Potter. I went from living underneath the stairs to inside a castle." Zane flashes his trademark smirk and takes a seat on the L-shaped sofa. "You look good, Layla. Really good."
Next to me, Damian clears his throat. "How do I look, Zane?"
Zane humors him by eyeing him up and down before shaking his head. "Eh, not the best. Have you put on weight?"
"Asshole," Damian mutters.
"Anyway, what are you guys doing in Chicago?" Zane asks. "When I went to pick up breakfast this morning, I wasn't expecting to see you two outside of my favorite diner."
"Jessica's touring a college," Damian explains. "We just tagged along."
"I guess I'm lucky I ran into you when I did." Zane's dark eyes linger on me, causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise. "I've actually been meaning to get in touch with you."
"You have?"
"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about Bradley."
"What about him? He isn't bothering you, is he?" I demand, my adrenaline spiking. "Because if he is—"
"Relax, spitfire," Zane interrupts. "He and Taisley paid me a visit about a month ago. Apparently, their plan worked. Once again, my step-father is mortal. He even has the achy joints to prove it."
"Good for him," I mumble, rolling my eyes. "He's a lunatic who kidnapped me and my grandmother, but I'm so pleased that he got what he wanted."
"You're missing the point," Zane says. "His plan worked. You gave Taisley a fake blood sample, didn't you?"
Damian and I exchange a look, the point smacking us both across the face.
"In order for his evil scheme to be successful," Zane continues, "he needed blood from five different metahumans, except he only had four."
"Or so we thought," I whisper. I can barely hear my voice over the sound of my own heartbeat. "Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe four was enough, after all."
Zane shakes his head. "Bradley is all about logistics. He doesn't make mistakes like that."
"You gave him your blood," Damian says to me, his blue eyes turning into saucers as he processes Zane's words. "Layla, that means—"
"It doesn't mean anything!" I snap.
"It explains a lot, actually," Zane replies. "Like the fact that Taisley and I were immediately drawn to you. The connection you and Damian share. Hell, didn't you tell me you had a friend who could talk to ghosts?"
