I don’t think so.

“If he wants a war,” I say, looking around at our friends, all of whom look like they’ve been to hell and back, “then we’ll bloody well give him a war.”

“With eleven of us?” Liam asks incredulously.

“Yeah, with eleven of us,” I tell him.

“We’ve beat bad odds before,” Mekhi says.

“There are bad odds, and then there are everyone’s-going-to-die odds.” Rafael speaks up for the first time.

“Maybe that’s true. But dear old Dad miscalculated this time,” I say.

“And how’s that exactly?” Macy asks.

“He didn’t kill us on that island,” Jaxon finishes for me as he, too, looks everyone in the eye individually. “And now we’re coming for him.”

“So, what?” Eden asks. “We’re just going to bring this fight to him?”

“We’re going to bring it to his motherfucking door,” Jaxon says. “And then we’re going to burn his shit to the ground.”

“You need her.”

I turn at the tremulous voice to find the guy who used to be the Unkillable Beast staring at us with anxious eyes. “She can save us. You need her.”

“Who?” Macy asks, walking toward him slowly so as not to scare him.

“She can save us,” he repeats.

“Who?” Macy asks again.

He points to Grace, or more specifically, Grace’s hand. “Her. Her. Her.” And then he turns to stone. And, not going to lie, didn’t see that coming. Just great.

As everyone mills around, trying to figure out who “her” is and if there’s another gargoyle around, I can’t help thinking that I need to talk to Grace. Because if this is going the way I think it is—which is straight to hell—it’s probably time I tell her what I saw that night in the laundry room all those weeks ago.

I think it’s time I tell her about her emerald-green string.

END OF BOOK THREE

But wait—there’s more!

Read on for an exclusive look at two chapters from Hudson’s

point of view.

Nothing is as it seems…

Blood Really Is

Thicker than Water

—Hudson—

Grace looks so knackered when we get back to Katmere from visiting the Crone that I want to wrap my arms around her and carry her to my room, but I have no idea if she’ll let me or not. Or how awkward of a position that will put her in with Jaxon if she does.

Though, to be honest, I’ve about reached my capacity to care about awkwardness when it comes to Jaxon. Do I feel bad that the Bloodletter fucked him over? Fuck yeah, I do.

Do I feel bad that he lost his mate? In theory, absolutely. In practice, not so much, considering how things landed.

And finally, do I feel bad that I’ve somehow ended up with the kindest, most beautiful, take-none-of-my-shite mate a bloke could hope for? Not in the bloody slightest.

Grace is a fucking gift, one I’ll be thankful for for the rest of my days.

Still, as we climb the stairs back to school, I can’t help saying one more thing about this whole shite plan. “This is a bad idea.”

“I agree,” she says, shooting me an obviously look. “But I still think we can’t rule it out.”

“Rule it out?” I ask, incredulous. “How can we even rule it in? Tell me you don’t actually trust that woman.”

“‘Trust’ is a pretty strong word.” She makes a face, and I love her. I do. But she is way too calm about this whole situation.

“‘Trust’ is utter recklessness,” I tell her. “She lives in a bloody gingerbread house. I don’t know about you, but I believe in truth in advertising, and I have no interest in being Hansel or fucking Gretel.” Or Snow White, for that matter. Or any of the other eponymous characters in fairy tales with wicked fucking witches. The woman has issues wide enough to fly a dragon through.

But Grace just pulls a face at me. “I really don’t think cannibalism is on the table.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Did you see the way she was looking at Luca?” I lift a brow.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think that had anything to do with cannibalism.”

We both laugh, and I know I’m grinning like a total tosser right now, and I don’t even care. Being with her, making her laugh, it reminds me of the way things used to be. I knew I missed it—I just didn’t know how much until this moment.

“You good?” I ask after a second, just to check in with her.

“Yeah.” She nods. “I am. How about you?”

Fucking ridiculous to get a little moony-eyed about such a throwaway question, but when Grace asks me, it doesn’t feel throwaway. Especially since she’s the only one who’s ever asked and then actually waited around to hear the answer.

Maybe that’s why I say what’s on my mind for once, instead of weighing my options. “I’d be better if you decide to sleep in my room tonight.” Then try to pretend I’m not holding my breath like a lad with his first crush as I wait for an answer.

She rolls her soft brown eyes. “If I decide to sleep in your room tonight, I think we’ll both look like zombies at graduation.”

“I’m okay with that,” I answer with a lift of my brows to let her know just how little sleep actually means to me. Especially if it’s a choice between sleep and having her in my bed.

She tilts her head down so her glorious curls fall in her face. But then she grins and gives me a sexy little side-eye as she says, “Maybe I am, too.”

The fact that she’s twirling her promise ring around her finger as she says it only makes her words that much sweeter. She said yes. The words reverberate in my head. She said yes.

I reach over and brush one of her gorgeous curls out of her face, letting my fingers linger just a little. Her skin is so soft and warm, and it feels so good to be touching her that I think about pulling her against me right here and now and to hell with what anyone else thinks. Instead, I pull back and whisper, “I promise I’ll let you get some sleep. Eventually.”

And then all hell breaks loose.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” my bloody wanker of a brother snarls. “This is all your fault! You and your mating bond are the reason she might die in prison, and you think you’ve got the right to put your filthy fucking hands on her?”

“Whoa, Jaxon.” Mekhi fades over to him, tries to grab his shoulder, but Jaxon isn’t having it.

Big surprise. The boy always was a drama queen.

But then he’s right up in my face, so close I can smell the blood he had for dinner. It makes me want to punch him in the throat, but I settle for giving him a scathing look as I answer, “Well, at least I’m not the tosser who threw his mating bond in the trash, so maybe you shouldn’t be too quick to come at me.”

“You know what? Fuck you!” Jaxon roars. “You’re a sanctimonious prick, and no one likes you. What the fuck are you even doing here?”

His words are a direct hit, but it’s not like I’m going to cry about it. Two Vegas acting like babies are two Vegas too many. Instead, I snarl, “Apparently pissing you off, so I’ll call that a win for the day. And here’s a little advice. Keep acting like a bloody wanker, and no one’s going to like you, either.”

I start to brush past him, livid at the fact that he’s such a fucking child, but then he grabs me and slams me against the wall so hard, my head bounces against the stone. And I lose another notch on my temper.

“Jaxon!” Grace grabs on to him, and the sight of her small hand on his arm makes me see red in a whole new way. “Jaxon, stop!”

“You just going to stand there like a cack-handed bell?” I sneer when he doesn’t even acknowledge her. I’d give anything to have Grace look at me like she looks at him, and he just pisses it away. “Or are you actually going to do something? I haven’t got all bleeding day for you to get your bollocks up.”

“Hudson, stop!” Grace shouts at me. Like this is my fucking fault? He’s the arsehole who can’t get his shite together.

But it’s too late. Captain Pouty-Pants has got his mad on, and out of nowhere, he snaps. He goes for my throat, and then he starts to squeeze just because he’s a total fucking blighter.

“Jaxon! Jaxon, no!” Grace reaches for his hand, and I try to get her attention, to tell her to back off because my little brother is truly in a snit and I don’t want her to get hurt. But she’s not even looking at me—big shock—because she’s too busy trying to placate the baby. I want to suggest she try a pacifier next time, but he’s starting to dig in.

I’m so pissed off at the little prick that part of me wants to slap the shite out of him right here, but there’s another part of me that wants to see how far he’ll go. At least until he starts to use his telekinesis to hold me against the wall.

The little fuck.