The wine cellar is dead quiet except for the drip of a leaky barrel somewhere behind us. Gideon steps fully into the dim red glow of the emergency light, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes burning holes straight through me.
"What the fuck did I just listen to?" His voice is ice.
I smooth the front of my dress like it's armour and meet his stare. "None of your business. What are you doing hiding in Devon's cellar?"
"Answer my question!" he snaps, stepping closer.
I don't flinch. "Don't yell at me, Gideon. I'm not one of your warriors."
He scoffs, bitter laugh scraping his throat. "Right. Because the Irene I knew wouldn't let that bastard finger-fuck her against a wall while the council waits upstairs. What was that, Irene? Huh? 'Who else?'" He mimics Devon's growl, disgust twisting his face. "You begged him to fuck you. In front of your own father last time, now this? Have you forgotten who he is?"
"I haven't forgotten anything," I say, voice low and steady.
