Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) - By Jenna Black Page 0,96

without using me as his messenger service. After all, Anderson couldn’t kill the messenger over the phone.

I hesitated when I reached the hallway leading to Anderson’s wing. We were forbidden from going into the east wing past his study, except in case of emergency. This was an emergency, but that didn’t exactly make me eager to trespass. Not with the message I bore.

I gave myself a swift kick in the pants and reminded myself once again that I didn’t have time for hesitation. I needed to be at my hunting best, and that meant I needed the moon.

Heart throbbing in my chest, I hurried down the hall. I wasn’t sure which room was his bedroom, but I made an educated guess that it would be next to the bathroom he’d stuck his head out of the other day. I didn’t know how I was going to break the news, and I didn’t have time to come up with a carefully worded plan.

I knocked on the door, rapping hard because I assumed Anderson would be fast asleep. “Anderson!” I called, hoping I wasn’t shouting so loud I’d wake the entire house. “Wake up! I need to talk to you.”

“I’m not asleep,” he answered, startling me, and moments later there was a glow of light around the edges of the door and the sound of approaching footsteps.

The door swung open. Anderson was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and a quick glance over his shoulder showed me that his bed was neatly made. I didn’t know what he’d been doing sitting around in his room in the dark, but I didn’t wonder enough to ask. He looked even more rumpled than usual, his beard bristling with scraggly whiskers he hadn’t bothered to shave, his shaggy hair standing up straight in places and lying flat in others. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was a faint scent of stale alcohol clinging to him. That answered my question about what he’d been doing alone and awake in the dark.

“What is it?” he asked, and he didn’t sound as alarmed as a knock on the door at this hour of the morning should make him. He just sounded resigned and very, very tired.

I wished like hell I could turn around and leave him to his grieving. I wished I didn’t have to make him feel worse than he already did. Yesterday, I had wanted him to feel bad for what I saw as his cold-bloodedness, but now I wished I could spare him.

I decided to ease my way into the conversation by telling him the easy part first.

“I just got a phone call from Cyrus.”

A crease of worry appeared between Anderson’s brows. “That was . . . unexpected.”

No kidding. “Someone tried to murder him in his sleep.”

Anderson no longer looked so weary and apathetic. I didn’t know if that would turn out to be a good thing or a bad thing for me, though I supposed even if he’d remained flat and dull-eyed, he would be fully roused and ready to embrace his Fury heritage by the time I was finished.

“Come in,” he said, turning his back abruptly and heading toward an armchair in the corner. I reluctantly followed as he sat and grabbed the pair of battered sneakers lying beside the chair. “Cyrus wouldn’t call you just to report an attempt on his life,” he said, shoving one foot into a sneaker. “Tell me what’s going on.”

I wanted to sit down. My knees were a little weak and trembly. But Anderson was sitting in the only chair, and sitting on the edge of his bed seemed too familiar and informal. I settled for grabbing one of the bedposts to steady myself, gripping it harder than was strictly necessary. Why the hell was I the one who had to have this conversation with Anderson? I swallowed hard.

“The guy who tried to kill Cyrus was a Descendant. One of Konstantin’s cronies.”

Anderson looked up from tying his sneakers. “You say that like it’s some kind of surprise. I told you Konstantin has never trusted his children. I’m frankly surprised Cyrus has lived as long as he has. It might have seemed natural to him to step into his father’s shoes, but it was probably the worst possible thing he could have done if he wanted Konstantin to keep him alive. Having his child usurp his ‘throne’ is one of his biggest fears, which is why he’s killed all the others before Cyrus.”

“But Cyrus took over in name only,” I

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