Harper couldn’t deny it. If it hadn’t been for the reassuring pressure of Knox’s warm hands, she would have undoubtedly snapped at someone by now. If his fingers weren’t splayed on her back, they were cupping her elbow or massaging her nape. Sometimes he kept his arm curled around her waist, as if suspecting that she wanted to bolt – which she did. He also laid the occasional soothing kiss on her temple, palm, hair, or wrist.

Each touch was a reminder that he was there; a reassurance that she was doing fine; and a reward for not complaining. Those touches and kisses also helped keep her demon at ease. It didn’t like crowds or mingling any more than Harper did.

At that moment, the concierge appeared and spoke quietly into Knox’s ear. He then gave him a helpless shrug and waited patiently.

Sighing, Knox turned to Harper. “I’ll be back in just a minute.” You’ll be all right?

“Okay.” I’ll be fine. I need to go pee anyway. Too much water.

Mouth curving into a smile, he kissed her. “I won’t be long.”

Her demon hissed at the sight of him leaving, feeling abandoned. Harper turned to Larkin. “Restroom?”

The harpy gestured ahead of them. “This way.”

Harper followed her, trying not to make eye contact with anyone for fear that they saw it as an invitation to approach. But, sadly, it wasn’t enough. Mere steps away from the restroom, a small woman with a beehive appeared in her path. Harper recognized Polly as a regular at the coffeehouse. She was nice enough, but she was also a terrible gossip.

“Congratulations!” said Polly, beaming. “I’m just so happy for you. When is the baby due?”

Harper had been asked that question so many times throughout the night that she found herself grinding her teeth. “I have eight weeks left to go.”

“Eight weeks?” Polly’s eyes widened. “Really?” She assessed Harper carefully. “Your belly is quite small for someone so far along.”

It wasn’t a compliment; it was a judgement… like Harper was deliberately depriving her child of the nutrition it needed or something. At her side, Tanner stiffened, so Harper put a hand on his arm to stay him.

Polly smiled at her again. “I’ll bet you’re hoping it’s a little girl.”

Um no, Harper was just hoping the baby was healthy.

“Are you scared about… you know… the labor?”

Of course she was, but she’d obviously rather not discuss it with someone who was essentially a stranger.

Polly moved closer and spoke in a low voice. “I won’t lie, it’s not a walk in the park. I told myself that I wouldn’t have any pain relief and I’d do it all natural. But God, the pain! Honey, I don’t envy you at all, you poor thing.” She patted Harper’s hand. “My Aliyah – her head was huge – tore me right open until my vagina and anus was just one big hole. I had to have so many stitches, I could hardly walk afterwards. What made it worse was that I lost so much blood, I had to have a transaction.”

“A transfusion,” Harper corrected.

“That, too. Don’t you worry none about putting on weight. Some men… well, they like a woman with a bit more cushion.”

Harper forced a smile. “That is a comfort. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to use the restroom.”

“Oh, of course, I apologize for keeping you.”

“Have a good evening.” Harper raced to the door. Tanner then leaned his back against the wall, on guard, as she and Larkin headed inside. Larkin entered first, and she’d only taken three steps when she came to an abrupt halt. “Well, well, well. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Harper peered around her, and inwardly cursed as she saw Carla leaning over the sink, chest heaving. Her demon hissed, wanting to claw the bitch. Carla stood upright, her movements stiff and awkward, eyes flaring.

In all the times she’d come across Carla over the years, Harper hadn’t seen the woman experience any real depth of emotion. Oh, she’d seen flashes of feelings such as irritation or anxiety in Carla’s eyes, but nothing deep. Right then, however, Carla was seething. And that, Harper thought, was bad. A narcissist in a rage was an irrational creature… though perhaps not as irrational as a she-demon that had an unborn child to protect.

Not wanting to appear as though she was cowering behind the sentinel, Harper moved to Larkin’s side. The harpy went rigid, not liking it, but she didn’t argue. Harper was their Prime; it was her right to deal with whatever came next. She was about to advise Carla to scamper when she spoke.

“I came because I needed to know if you’d found out something about the real Horsemen – I want my son’s name cleared. Imagine my fucking surprise when I heard that you’re…” Carla cut off, as if the sentence would be too hard to finish.

Larkin jutted out her chin. “You should leave.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Carla gave a mocking smile. “But I should be part of the celebrations, right? I’ll be a grandmother,” she said bitterly.

Larkin arched a brow. “How can you be a grandmother when you’re not even a mother?”

Carla flushed, and her gaze cut to Harper. “Nothing to say?” She huffed. “Well, that’s a first.”

“Larkin’s right,” said Harper, tone flat. “You need to leave.” Harper might not have particularly wanted to make a public announcement, but she sure didn’t want anyone spoiling the evening.

Fingers flexing, Carla crossed to Harper. “You took my baby from me.” Her lips trembled and then pressed into a flat line. “How is it fair that you now get to have your own?”

Fair? The woman wanted to talk about “fair”?

“And I was your baby once,” began Harper, “but you gave me away – you sold me… but that was only after aborting me and trapping my soul in a jar didn’t work. So, with all that in mind, how is it fair that you would think to judge me for anything?”

Carla scowled. There was no flicker of guilt, no ounce of regret, just sheer fury. “Roan —”

“This isn’t about him,” Harper scoffed, voice hoarse as she fought her demon from surfacing. “Oh, I’m not denying that you’re upset by his death – he was your son, you cared about him in your way. But this isn’t why you’re standing here, shaking with rage. No. You’re pissed because you wanted the lair to turn against me for killing Roan, but they didn’t.”

Carla’s eyes flickered.

“You want, as the grieving mother, to be the center of attention, but you’re not. For you, that’s hell in its purest form.” Because Carla needed attention like she needed to breathe – it gave her a feeling of worth that nothing else ever would. “Especially since the person getting the attention you desperately want is me – someone who sees right through your bullshit. Isn’t that right, Mother?”

Just as the concierge had said, Malden and one of his sentinels were waiting near the boardroom where Knox had held a meeting with the Primes only weeks ago. He gave Knox and Levi a courteous nod, lines of strain marking his face. “Knox, I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed anything. I heard you were here and hoped I might have the chance to speak with you. It’s important.”

“All right.” Knox swiped his key in the door lock and opened it, allowing all four of them to slip inside the boardroom. Closing the door, he turned to Malden. “What can I help you with?”

Malden hesitated. “I’ve been arguing with myself for weeks about whether or not to tell you this.”

Knox’s brows lifted. “Tell me what?”

Again, Malden hesitated. “I know what Jonas wants from Lucifer.”

Knox hid his surprise. “Go on.”

Malden sighed, looking sad. “I’ve known Jonas a long time. I’ve always respected him as a person and a fellow Prime. We often have dinner together at each other’s homes. A few months ago, we had dinner and drank a little too much hard liquor. We got to talking about the Horsemen. Like Thatcher, Jonas is not convinced that they’re real. He said no one would be stupid enough to go up against you without having the kind of back-up that you could never hope to fight. I’ll admit, I thought he made a valid point.”