Xander walks into the kitchen holding today’s mail in his hand, and my heart sinks. Today’s the day we discover the true depth of her betrayal.
“Is that it?” I nod at the advanced copy of the magazine that was FedExed here at my request.
His knuckles are white around the glossy pages. “Yeah,” he rasps. “I almost opened it, but I …” He shakes his head and runs his free hand through his hair.
Zeke steps up beside me, arms folded across his chest. “Open it, Fitch. Let’s see what the hell she wrote about us,” he says, his voice little more than a throaty growl.
Xander swallows, his eyes darting between mine and Zeke’s.
“Do it,” I bark, ready to get this over with. I can’t assess exactly how much damage control will be needed until I see what she wrote, and I want to get a jump start on that before it hits the shelves tomorrow.
Xander’s fingers tremble as he unfurls the pages and opens the magazine. He scans the contents section, a frown pinching his dark brows together.
Zeke rocks on the balls of his feet. “You see it?”
Xander grunts and flicks through the pages, frantically searching for the evidence of Lily’s betrayal.
My heart is in my fucking throat, blood thundering in my ears, and all I can do is wait. My fingers twitch with the effort of not tearing the magazine from Xander’s hands. When his blue eyes widen and his skin turns whiter than snow, I’m forced to swallow the bile that burns my esophagus.
Zeke bristles.
“How bad is it?” I force out the words.
Xander’s eyes remain fixed on the page, and his mouth opens but nothing comes out. A look of horror twists his features. What the fuck did she say about us?
“Fitch!” Zeke’s harsh tone doesn’t seem to penetrate Xander’s haze. His knees buckle and he sinks to the floor. The pages of the magazine rustle loudly in his trembling grip, and Zeke snatches it away. Xander drops his head into his hands and lets out an anguished wail.
Concerned for him but needing to know what elicited such a reaction, I jerk my chin at Zeke. He holds up the offending article so we can both read it. The headline stands out in neon pink writing.
The True Horror of the New York City Puppy Trade
The words blur together, and I nearly join Xander on the floor. “What the fuck?” I whisper.
“Nothing …” Xander groans, his voice muffled by his hands. “Not a single fucking word about us.”
Blinking to clear my vision, I quickly scan the article, looking for any mention of us. Any justification at all for the way we treated her. But Xander’s right. There’s nothing.
My eyes drift to the bottom of the second page—by Lily Sloane.
My Lily. Our sweet, beautiful Lily.
What the fuck have we done?
