“I know, but spice is the variety of life… or whatever.” Her brow creased in concern as she added, “I heard about the attack. How are you?”

Harper wasn’t surprised that the news was getting around. The demonic grapevine worked at a seriously fast speed. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll feel even better if you give me my latte.”

Wren smiled. “Not scared of a little milk, are you?”

Harper felt her lips quirk. “You can be weird sometimes, you know.”

Wren’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe we’re twins.”

Harper laughed. “Maybe.” A whistle made her look over her shoulder. Devon was stood at the condiment trolley, tapping her watch impatiently. Harper rolled her eyes and turned back to Wren. “I’ll try the damn milk.” She took a cautious sip. Harper had always been a caramel girl, but the frothed vanilla tasted super good. Even better, it seemed to soothe her burning tongue. Still, Harper made a put-out huff. “Fine, I’ll take it.”

Wren chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lifting the tray, Harper headed to Devon, who then quickly helped her add sugar, milk, and other toppings to the drinks.

“I’ll carry the tray,” said Devon. “You waited in the line.”

Fine with that, Harper turned… and almost bumped right into none other than Carla. Well, fuck a freaking duck.

Her inner demon hissed, having no time or patience for this woman who’d abandoned them. It was the first time Harper had come face to face with her since before Roan’s death. The resentful glitter in her eyes told her that Carla wasn’t there to check that she’d recovered from the hunters’ attack. No surprise there.

Harper was conscious that the chatter had died down and everyone was watching, waiting to see how it would play out. Carla would no doubt be thrilled about that. She did so love being the center of attention… such was the life of a narcissist.

Part of Harper felt sorry for this person who was so emotionally stunted that she was still stuck at the infantile age where her own wants and needs were more important than those of others. Because of the gaping emotional hole inside her, she’d always perpetually seek the attention that she needed just as intensely as an addict needed crack. And Carla’s drug of choice seemed to be sympathy. She was a never-ending victim, and drama made her feel alive somehow. As such, she was milking whatever sympathy she could get for having lost her son.

Maybe Harper’s thoughts should have shown a little more sensitivity to Carla’s current situation. After all, the woman was grieving. But, honestly, Harper didn’t believe that Carla could experience grief the way others did. She just didn’t seem truly capable of forming an emotional connection with anyone. Neither of her sons had a kind word to say about her, which was telling. And loving a person often meant putting them first, and Carla was far too self-absorbed to put anyone before herself.

Tanner was instantly at Harper’s side, his stance protective. There an issue here?

There could be, Harper replied.

“I wouldn’t advise you to say whatever it is that’s going through your mind, Carla,” said Devon. None of the girls had ever liked Carla, particularly Khloë, who insisted on referring to both Harper’s parents as merely her “primary blood relations”.

Carla’s shoulders lifted as she took in a long breath. Apart from their small figure, pointed chin, and dark hair, they didn’t share much resemblance at all. It was something Harper, petty though it might be, was thankful for. “I just want to say one thing.”

Harper doubted she would only say one thing. Carla loved the sound of her own voice.

“Roan… he had his faults,” Carla continued. “He wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. But he wouldn’t ever have considered being part of some scheme to see the US Primes overthrown. It doesn’t even make sense – he would never have benefitted from it.”

“Okay.”

Carla blinked. “Okay?”

“There’s nothing at all that I could say that would appease you. If you wish to believe he wasn’t part of it, who am I to interfere with that?” Harper had no intention of giving the woman the argument she was looking for.

“But you don’t agree with me,” Carla pushed.

“It’s possible that he was lying, but I don’t see why he would have.”

“But maybe you’re the one who’s lying.”

Harper’s demon snarled. “And would I?”

“Maybe you’re jealous that I kept him but I gave you away.”

Harper couldn’t help it; she laughed. But it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Oh yeah, Carla, you got me there,” she said dryly. There were a few snickers.

Carla’s expression was hard as stone. “Doesn’t it bother you that you killed your own brother?”

Did it bother Harper that she’d been in a position where she’d had to kill him or be killed by him? Yes. Did it bother her that he was dead? No. Roan had conspired against the US Primes. Worse, he’d wanted Knox dead. That was something Harper would never forgive or excuse.

“You might not have liked him, but I loved him. I —”

Harper took a single step toward her, eating up her personal space. “Do you know what he did while I was tied to a table? He took a pair of scissors, and he cut into my earlobe… claiming you’d once done the same thing to him.”

Carla’s eyes flickered. The twisted bitch had done it.

“From what he told me, that wasn’t an isolated incident. You’d hurt him before that and you hurt him again afterward. Play the devastated, crumbling mother if you want, Carla, but don’t expect me to buy it.”

There was a huff, and then another voice spoke. “You never could resist causing a scene, could you, Carla?”

Harper peered over Carla’s shoulder to see a small old woman in a gypsy dress. It was Nora, the grandmother of one of the Primes, Dario. Harper had only met her once before, when they learned that Nora had premonitions. To be specific, she knew and felt events that would soon occur.

It was through Nora that Harper and Knox had learned about the Four Horsemen. Nora hadn’t seen Roan’s face, but she’d known through her ability what his motivations were. She’d warned them that the person pulling Crow’s strings was cold and power-hungry with a void that would always leave him unsatisfied with life.

Frowning at Carla in both disappointment and impatience, Nora added, “Do you not think you’ve done enough to this girl?”

Looking like she was sucking on a lemon, Carla said, “She killed —”

“A son you mistreated and controlled, from what I heard,” Nora finished. “A son you didn’t see as a person in his own right – he was only ever an extension of you. It was little wonder he grew to be greedy for power. He spent so many years under your rule that he needed the greatest power possible to feel in control. Or, at least, that is what everyone is speculating.”

Cheeks reddening, Carla hissed, “He was not one of the Horsemen, if the Horsemen even exist.”

“Oh, they exist. And he was one of them – never doubt it. The only person at fault for his death is Roan. He made his choices. They were bad choices that could only ever have resulted in his own demise.”

Before Carla could say another word in her son’s defense, Tanner forced her to step aside and said, “You’ve said your piece. Now it’s over. Get the fuck out of our way.”

Once Carla shuffled to the side, Nora gestured for Harper to move forward and then linked her arm through hers. Instead of escorting Harper to the bistro table, Nora headed straight out the door with Tanner close behind them.

Outside, Nora said, “There. Now take a breath.”

Harper settled her hands on her hips as she inhaled deeply, urging her pissed-the-fuck-off demon to calm down. The entity despised Carla and always would.

Nora patted her back. “You were right to believe there’s nothing you can say that will appease her. She’ll never accept that Roan was virtually responsible for his own death.”