to, even if he was probably fifteen years older than me.
"Maybe you're made of tougher stuff than I gave you credit for," he murmured, gesturing with his blade. On closer examination, it wasn't the same as Archer’s. Where his had a blood-red blade and charcoal handle, Zane's was mostly black with a shimmer of red in the handle. Still, the shape had to be identical. Surely. It was such a unique design... "Come with me," Zane said, jerking his head in the direction of a fire door. He led the way outside, and I followed, shadowed by one of his silent men.
Once we were outside in the dirty alleyway beside dumpsters overflowing with beer bottles, the other guy took up a post beside the door and Zane lit up a cigarette.
"Talk," he told me, waving his hand impatiently.
I flicked a glance at the silent guy, but Zane was totally ignoring him and I assumed I could do the same. "Are you stalking me?"
Zane's cigarette paused halfway to his lips, and the look he shot me was pure acid.
"Excuse me?"
Tilting my chin up, I met his cool blue eyes unflinchingly. "You heard me. Are you stalking me? Because you're right up there at the top of my list of suspects."
Zane barked a laugh, throwing his head back, but it was hollow and fake. "Why the fuck would I want to stalk you, little girl? I'm no idiot; I won't mess with my brother's business."
I prickled at being called Archer's business. "Not what I've heard," I said instead. "Why was Skunk at my friend’s party if not to mess with Archer's business?"
A cruel but amused smile lit Zane's lips. They were Archer's lips, I’d just noticed, and it sent a weird pang of sadness through me. "Just testing the limits a little. But back to your question. Why would you think I was stalking you?"
My fingers curled into balls, my nails digging painfully into my palms. "You tell me, Zane. Were you stalking my mom?"
He stilled, violent energy sweeping over him as he dropped his cigarette and stomped it out. He took a step closer, and a spark of fear ignited inside me. But instead of hitting me like I’d anticipated, he sighed and swept a hand through his black hair.
"No," he replied after a long, tense silence. "No, I would never have done that shit."
"Then why the hell were you chasing me on Riot Night?" I demanded, pushing on through my fear.
Zane's lips curved up again in a smile. "I'm an opportunist, Madison Kate. The daughter of Shadow Grove's richest citizen waltzes into my lap, I'm not going to pass that up. Besides, any chance I get to hurt Samuel Danvers, I'll take." He spat my father’s name with clear disdain, and it confirmed what I’d already suspected to be the truth. The guys hadn't lied to me.
"Did you kill my mom?" I had to ask. I had to get it off my chest.
I already knew what his answer would be. After I'd woken up in the hospital, after I'd accused Archer of being the one who’d stabbed me and heard from the police that he'd already been investigated and cleared, I'd done my research.
For years I'd been confident in my own memories. I had no need to look at the police reports because I'd witnessed it. But Steele's calm logic the night of Halloween had shaken me and made me question my own mind.
Sure enough, there had been a six-hour gap between my mom's time of death and Zane releasing me from the closet. He hadn't killed her, but he had saved me.
"No," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I didn't kill your mom, Madison Kate."
Neither one of us spoke for a while, and Zane lit up another cigarette. I fidgeted, all the bluster deflated from my sails suddenly, and he sighed.
"Here," he held out his freshly lit cigarette to me, then produced another for himself. "Calm your fucking nerves. You're so tightly wound you're making my skin itch."
I couldn't argue with that assessment, so I took a drag on the cigarette and noted the familiar hint of weed laced into the tobacco.
"So what prompted this visit?" Zane asked after we'd smoked in silence for a few minutes. "I take it you didn't just wake up determined to track down Deb's murderer and start knocking on doors?"
I wrinkled my nose and exhaled the smoke. "Long story," I muttered, "but I'd... forgotten lots of things. Until recently, anyway."
He nodded, not pushing me