Claimed by Sarah Fine

happened less than ten minutes ago.”
    Galena’s whole body went tight with dread. “Was anybody hurt?”
    “Paramedics and fire crews are on scene. We’ll have more information tomorrow.” Dec sighed, and he looked down at her hand, the one that might have borne a ring if this had been real, if they were actually in love, if this wasn’t a tragic joke on the both of them. “But it’s obvious that whoever’s after you isn’t giving up.”
    She was glad he was holding her hand, glad for his solid strength. “What does this mean?”
    His fingers curled over hers, and he pulled her to her feet. “The risk to you—and to the fabric of fate, the future and everything that’s meant to be—is too great for us to wait around and get to know each other,” he said. “The wedding has to take place tonight.”

CHAPTER TEN
    D ec stood on the sidewalk outside Psychopomps headquarters, scowling at the text h e’d just gotten from Trevor:
    Sorry, not up for it.
    “What the fuck, Trev?” he muttered, then hit Trevor’s number.
    “Dec, my answer is no,” Trevor said as soon as he answered.
    “I need you to be there,” said Dec. “What is up with you?”
    Trevor sighed. “I’ve just been off lately, man, and I didn’t want to bother you with it.”
    “Bother me? We’ve been friends for thirty years. You helped me reattach my arm a few weeks ago.” Motherfucking Shades had almost torn it clean off.
    There was a long, heavy pause. “I know, man. I know.” Trevor’s deep-bass voice rumbled with regret. “What’s the occasion, though? Your messages were awfully cryptic.”
    Dec gritted his teeth. Aislin had insisted that no one outside of immediate family know about the wedding before it happened to prevent last-minute desperation-driven attacks on Galena. But sh e’d agreed to let him have Trevor as his witness, and Dec had been counting on him being here, a steady presence at his side. “It’s a pretty big deal,” he finally said. “Can’t say more than that until you’re at HQ.”
    “Psychopomps headquarters. Yeah. No, thanks.”
    Dec frowned at the uncharacteristic contempt and anger in the Ker’s voice. “At what point are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Has something happened? Are things with Greg okay?”
    “We broke up last week. And good riddance. All we did was fight.”
    Dec’s eyebrows shot up. Trevor had really liked the guy, and up until a week or so ago, h e’d told Dec the y’d been getting along great. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    “Remember when you told me I should consider taking a vacation? That’s what I’m doing. I just need to step away from it, man. I’m tired. I’m pissed at Moros. I need to get some distance. Can you let me do that?”
    “Sure,” he said. But it stung. “Before I let you go, I need to ask you something. It’s important.”
    “Shoot.”
    “Moros said you Marked a guy named Jian Lee, and he was a research assistant for Galena Margolis. Can you tell me anything about him?”
    Trevor grunted. “You know I also Marked your father’s killer, right? This felt like the same thing. Justice.”
    And Trevor had willed Jian to commit suicide, something he hadn’t done in all the years Dec had known him. “That bad, huh?”
    “This is exactly why I need a break. I’m fed up with the whole game, and my part in it.” There was a long pause. “Good luck tonight. I gotta go.” Trevor hung up.
    Dec cursed. Something was up with Trev, but he had absolutely zero time to deal with it. The last several hours had passed in a haze. H e’d taken Galena back to Cacy’s apartment and gone back to his place to crash for an hour. His dreams had been filled with her face—the way it had looked when Aislin had told her that the marriage must be consummated for Galena to become immortal. H e’d woken up feeling sick. What the hell had he agreed to?
    Last night, h e’d acted on impulse, out of a pure, compelling desire to make this easier for Galena.