Rosalie Winters's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Marcus stayed at the bar after Dante drifted back to his table. He drank the rest of Rosalie's water and set the glass down between them like a marker. "Closing time," he said. "You and me. Back room." Rosalie nodded. The letter in her apron pocket felt heavier than it had an hour ago. She had bought one night. Now she had to pay for it. She found him in the storeroom sitting on a crate of bottles. He did not stand. "Why shouldn't he find out," Marcus said. "Short version." She opened her mouth. The truth was three sentences long and she could not get the first one out. She thought of the way Dante held his mug, thumb on the rim, and how she had watched that for years without a single pull in her chest that belonged to his power instead of to her. "Marcus," she said. "I need another week." He looked at the floor. He looked at her. "No." "Please." "You said you'd tell me why. That was the deal." "I don't have the words yet." "Then I don't have the shield." He stood up. He was not angry. That was worse. "If he comes back through, or another one like him, I'm not sitting down at his table." The back door opened before she could answer. Brenda came in with two mugs, saw their faces, and stopped. "Wrong room," she said. She did not leave. She set one mug in Marcus's hand and one in Rosalie's. "Whatever this is, drink first." Marcus almost smiled. He looked at Brenda a beat too long and then away. Brenda caught it and pretended she hadn't. "She won't tell me," Marcus said to Brenda, because it was easier than saying it to Rosalie. Brenda looked at Rosalie. "Is it going to get her hurt?" "Yes," Rosalie said, before she could stop. Brenda turned to Marcus. "Then give her the week." Marcus set the mug down. "One," he said. "After that I tell Dante myself." He walked out. Rosalie sat down on the crate he had left warm. Outside, past the kitchen door, a small flock of pale birds startled off the eave and settled again. Brenda watched her a moment. "You know I'm going to ask what it is." "I know." "Not tonight." "Thank you." Brenda squeezed her shoulder once and left. Rosalie stepped out into the front room. Dante was gone. In his stool sat a blond man in a clean jacket, watch bright on his wrist, hands folded on the wood as if he had been waiting a while. Ashton Vale did not smile. "I saw you first," he said. "Before he ever looked. I thought you should hear that from me before the week runs out." Rosalie's hand closed on the letter in her pocket. One week. Two men. And now a third who already knew how to count.