Page 79 of Marked

He was right.

And I was…wrong.

I pushed off the wall, removing my blade from his neck. An angry red line decorated the delicate skin.

He gingerly touched the wound on his neck and examined his gloved fingers. The bleeding had already stopped. The wound was a scratch, but a pang of regret stabbed my stomach.

“I was wrong,” I said, the words turning sour on my tongue. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“And?” Ace’s lips twitched. “Are you sorry?”

I shook my head, realizing he was throwing my own words back at me. Apparently, my apologies were as terrible as my brother’s, too. “Would grovelling on my knees make it better?”

A wide grin split Ace’s face. “I’d definitely like to see you on your knees.”

“Pervert.”

“Are we going to go for that drink now or what?” Ace asked.

“Fine, but you’re buying,” I said.

Ace turned toward the alley’s exit. “Phaan that. This isn’t a date. You can pay for yourself. After that stunt you just pulled, you should be buying me drinks.”

“Phaan that. I didn’t bring any money, and this was your idea,” I snapped back as I followed him, sheathing my dagger. “Besides, if you were more upfront and honest with me, instead of continuing to hide information, I wouldn’t distrust you so much.”

He hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll buy the drinks but don’t get any ideas.”

Like I’d ever.

29

I stood outside the rundown two-story bar with wood siding, half expecting it to topple over and crush me where I stood. “This is your bar of choice?”

Ace leaned in. “I come for the booze and to be left alone. This place is perfect.”

“I’m surprised you know of any places in the city. You never used to venture here, and you’ve been away for a long time.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been here.” He left me to gape at him and pulled open the door. The hinges creaked loudly. “I used to live in the city, too, you know.”

Ace held onto his secrets when we were growing up, but he held more now. I wanted to crack his head open like a walnut and read what was inside.

“So many secrets,” I whispered.

“You’re not in any position to criticize. You and your brother were always so secretive. Always too good to trust anyone else.”

It wasn’t that we were too good to trust anyone. It was that we couldn’t risk people discovering our history. They might tie us to the rumours of two street rats surviving injuries that should’ve killed them. And then we’d be asked questions we couldn’t answer without betraying the queen’s orders.

“Paul was your best friend,” I said. “You could trust him.”

“And yet, he didn’t trust me.” Ace straightened. “Well, I have secrets worth protecting, too.”

“Point taken.”

“Come on, Mouse.” Ace held open the door.

Music and the low chatter of patrons spilled into the streets along with the smells of beer, cooked meat, and fried food.

My mouth watered.