It doesn’t matter. I can’t stop myself from reaching out—
“Dante, this thing is really freaking me out,” Aspen says.
I’m so close to Charlie’s soul, so close I can feel the warmth it radiates even from inside the orb.
Aspen’s words continue to reach me, though I’m hardly listening. “This thing is saying that there are—”
Wait, what?
I jerk my hand back from Charlie’s soul as a current of energy courses through me. “Aspen, are you saying you can read the scroll?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve read it three times. It’s freaky as shit.”
Though every part of me aches to take Charlie’s soul, I hurry toward Aspen. I come to stand beside her, positive that this is another faux scroll. But when I see it, the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
There aren’t any words.
I place my hand on the glass case and narrow my eyes. “Are you sure you see words?”
Aspen glances at me like I’m crazy. “What, are you blind? It’s right there.”
“I see the scroll,” I say. “I just don’t see any words.”
Aspen takes three steps back from the case. “Stop messing around.”
I turn and look at her. Aspen’s green eyes are round with worry. But there’s something else there, too—excitement. “The first time I read it, I sort of knew it was true.”
“What does it say?” I ask, my pulse pounding.
Instead of answering, she stands stock-still, staring over my shoulder. I follow her gaze.
A collector steps out from the shadows.
40 
Wicked Little Rose
I recognize him immediately. It’s the same collector who has haunted my dreams ever since the night he struck Charlie and killed Blue.
“Rector,” I hiss.
The collector bows his shaved head in acknowledgement. A close-lipped smile stretches his mouth as he brushes off the front of his navy-blue starched shirt. Always with the formality, from his clipped words to his militaristic air. Rector waves his hand forward, and Kincaid steps beside him. The two of them now stand ten feet in front from me, and Aspen is an arm’s length behind me.
“Is that it?” I ask.
Rector’s grin widens. “Patrick is here, too. Everyone else is working above ground.”
“Actually, Patrick is drowning with the water demons,” I say.
His smile falters, but not for long. “No matter. You are here, and that is all we need.”
“I brought a friend,” I say.
Rector rolls his shoulders. “I see that.”
“She and I are going to kick your ass, old man. Then we’re going to take Charlie’s soul.”
Beside Rector, Kincaid laughs. “Nice plan you got there.”
Kincaid is the newest collector on my old team. He pulls on his short blond ponytail like he’s prepping to tango. His nose is too big for his face and his eyes too small. He has a birthmark along his right cheekbone. It’s like a beacon for my fist.
Aspen steps close to me and puffs out her chest. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
“I think we do,” Rector says, his dark eyes searching her face.
Aspen sucks in a breath. The way she does it seems like I’m missing something important. “Are you the one who stole Charlie’s soul from Dante?”
Rector folds his hands together like we’re moments away from enjoying tea and crumpets. “Dear child—”
“Don’t you dare call me that. I’m not your daughter, asshole.”
Oh, smack! Rector done hit a nerve.
“Let me try again,” Rector says. “The two of you are not leaving here. But I do have a proposal.”
Fury builds in my chest. A proposal? From him? Screw that. I suddenly remember with painful clarity the way this dick hurt my girlfriend. I remember that he’s the reason everyone I care about has been put in danger. He took Charlie’s soul from me, but tonight I steal it back.
“Hey, Rector,” I growl. He glances in my direction. “Let’s play instead.”
I lunge. My mind splits open as I tackle him to the ground. Thoughts of Charlie flash in my head each time my knuckles crack into his jaw. Kincaid lands his heel directly into my side, but it does nothing to tear me from the collector beneath me. Kincaid raises his leg again for another blow—
And Aspen is on him.
She leaps onto his back and wraps her legs around his waist. Her hand covers his eyes. Kincaid stumbles around blind as Aspen uses her other hand to grip his right ear. She rips downward, and Kincaid roars.
Rector wraps his hands around my throat, but I remember everything Kraven taught me. Instead of trying to pull his hands away, I go straight for his eyes. They squish beneath my thumbs, and he jerks his head back. He releases my throat, and I bring my knee up between his legs.
Rector curls into himself and I shove him to the ground. Then I spring on top of him. He manages to rise onto his hands and knees before I land on his back like I would a horse.
“Giddy up, shithole,” I yell.
Aspen laughs from where she’s fighting Kincaid, which makes him furious. He rushes toward her, blood gushing from his ear and down his neck. He almost grabs her around the middle, but Aspen leaps to the side. She’s a snake one moment, a rabbit the next. She’ll throw her weight into one of his vital organs, then hop out of his grasp. Aspen seems to know she can’t take on a man if he falls to the ground. So she stays upright no matter what. I’ve seen her stumble more than once, but she shoots back up like a life vest beneath the sea.
Under me, Rector drops to his stomach and rolls quickly to his right. I don’t expect the maneuver, and I lose my hold on him. He pulls himself up and lands a fist directly into my gut. I groan and cover my stomach. Wrong move. Kraven would have told me to ignore the pain and protect myself at all times.
Rector’s hand whips across my face.
Holy crap. The dude just backhanded me like a dirty-ass pimp.
Anger bubbles inside of me until I fear I’ll explode. A snarl builds in my chest. Rector must sense the change because he takes two quick steps back. I race at him like a Mack Truck, and he seeks cover behind a row of souls. I’m almost to him when I notice the row rocking back and forth.
I stop cold and try to retreat. But it’s too late. The towering shelf comes crashing down. From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Aspen reaching out to me. Seconds later, Kincaid takes advantage of her diverted attention and tackles her to the ground.
The shelf lands on me, and I’m out.
…
When I come around, Rector is standing over me. “That is it? A few seconds? I thought you would be out for at least a day or so, Mr. Walker.”
Aspen chokes on a sob. The sound is half sorrow, half relief. Kincaid has his arm around her waist. I know she could escape his hold, but she must have decided that Rector is too close to my body. That he could do too much harm to me if she struggled now.
Rector rubs his hands together as pain spreads through my legs. The shelf has fallen on my pelvis, pinning me to the ground. I try to push it off and cry out when the enormous shelf doesn’t move a hair. All around, souls pepper the floor, twinkling like white Christmas lights. Numbness bites at my stomach as I fall back and stop struggling.
Rector squats down. I contemplate driving my fist into his knee, but just the thought of attempting it sends a fresh wave of agony over my lower half. The pain becomes a living, breathing thing; it eats away at my muscles—at my mind—like a virus.
“It took so little to take you down,” Rector says, his nose wrinkled.
I lock eyes with Aspen, and even though I’m filled with fury, my pulse slows. She’s waiting for my direction, but she won’t want to hear what I have to say. She could fight her way past Rector and Kincaid, I think, but she’d have to leave me behind, and maybe Charlie’s soul, too.