EMBER’S POV

“Get your hands off me—” Marjorie wrenches free of Daxon, breathing hard, and rounds on me, and her eyes are wet and blazing, and there’s something in them I can’t read. “You have no idea what you’ve just done. No idea. You think you’ve saved them. You think you’re the hero of this, don’t you, riding in with your guards—”

“I think you’re doing something to vulnerable women that you refuse to explain,” I say coldly, “and I think an innocent person doesn’t fight three people to keep it hidden. So here’s what happens now, Marjorie. The girls stay inside. And you—” I hold her furious gaze, and...