"That evil piss-stain," Will growled, low and fierce. He'd treated her like an animal. Less than an animal; like an appliance. Will had known it all along, through Patrick's updates, but it never stopped making him sick.
A savage part of him still wished he could get his hands around Martin's neck. Apollo hadn't said much of anything to him, but he'd read the local news bulletin – suspicious fire in a vacant apartment building, one casualty – and he could guess the rest. Nobody had come to Martin's rescue, not even his vile parents. Good. He hoped the hateful fuck had woken before the end. He hoped he'd suffered.
But Will kept that to himself, letting the ripple of anger pass. Clio'd had enough of ugliness. "Your voice," he said, "is the sweetest damn sound in the world. It was hardly an exaggeration in this moment. For ten long days, he'd been living in a silent house, dreading what was happening to her, fearing he'd never see her again. To have those rooms filled with the sound of her voice again— no, he couldn't think of anything better than that. "You can give me a running commentary. You can read me the dictionary if you like. Anything you have to say, I'll listen."