Sabah could not have denied that Acid was objectively handsome. With a pelt of flashy gold and white, emerald eyes and a confident stride that advertised his youth and health, she did not doubt that he caught many a mare's eye. But as he materialized out of the falling snow, the only thing Sabah felt was a sickly feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach. Beneath the glitz and glamor, there was a wrongness to the stallion: a suggestion of malice; of poison.

And she had willingly drunk that poison.

Sabah waited at the edge of the tree line, still as a mouse, her mismatched eyed watching Acid's progress through the flurries toward her. She flinched at his brazen call, her gaze darting beyond him for any stir of interest from the rest of the Brotherhood. Damn him. Damn him and everything he was—everything he stood for. The last thing she needed was more hungry eyes looking at her like a prime cut of meat.

By the time Acid reached her, her heart was thundering in her ears and her knees were trembling. It took all her willpower not to turn and flee.

"Welcome home," he said, and she glowered at him, a haunted look in her eyes. She remained frozen as he circled her, with only her ears turning to take in his taunting. She did not reply immediately; her mouth was a hard line, and her chest rose and fell with hurried, shallow breaths.

"I fulfilled my part of our deal. I want to see him. Where is he?"