Oskar’s gut knotted with fury. His grip tightened on the hilt of his dagger hidden beneath his cloak. “Stay away from her. If I ever catch ye or yer crew near Lily, there willnae be enough left of ye to tell tales.”
Bryn’s laughter swelled. “Oh, Oskar, do ye think ye frighten us? Ye are but a shadow of the man ye used to be. I remember when ye were feared on these streets, when men trembled at the mention of yer name. Now look at ye, reduced to playing nursemaid to a fragile little flower. A flower that is ripe for plucking.”
Oskar’s vision clouded with rage. Unsheathing his dagger in one swift motion, he attacked like lightning, driving the blade into Bryn’s shoulder. The man grunted in pain but Oskar didn’t let up. He landed a punch to Bryn’s jaw, sending him sprawling onto the cobblestones.
The other men hesitated, their eyes wide with shock at the sudden display of violence. But his actions had unleashed something primal within him—an urge to survive that had been born on these streets. These men thought he was weak? That he had lost his touch? He’d show them otherwise.
He yanked his dagger from Bryn’s shoulder, straddled the man’s chest, and pressed the knife to his throat. Bryn’s gang watched on, all bravado gone at seeing their leader so easily incapacitated.
“Go near Lily and I will kill ye,” Oskar hissed, pushing his face close to Bryn’s and putting just enough pressure on the knife that it sent a line of blood running down Bryn’s skin. “And it willnae be quick. I will carve ye into pieces and then toss them in the river for the fish. Do ye understand?”
“Aye, he understands!” one of Bryn’s men cried. “Now let him up, will ye?”
Oskar held Bryn’s gaze for a second longer, then removed his dagger and climbed to his feet. Bryn scrambled up. He glared at Oskar, his eyes burning with hatred. Oskar rocked onto the balls of his feet, ready for a fight.
Do it, he thought.Do it.
Bryn’s men grabbed him and began pulling him away.
“Another time,” Bryn snarled.
“I look forward to it,” Oskar replied.
Bryn and his gang disappeared into the shadows, leaving Oskar standing alone in the middle of the street. With trembling hands, he wiped the blood off his dagger and sheathed it back at his waist. As the adrenaline slowly dissipated, he felt the familiar itch of shame creeping up on him. He had thought himself better than this, but the streets had a way of pulling him back in no matter how hard he tried to escape. It seemed that it didn’t take much for the monster to resurface again, no matter how much he tried to bury it beneath the honor and ideals of the Order of the Osprey.
With a heavy sigh, he began to make his way back to his townhouse. It was getting dark and the temperature was dropping as he retraced his steps and his thoughts were elsewhere as he opened the door to the townhouse and stepped inside. A wall of heat hit him, a welcome respite to the chill outside. Pulling off his cloak, he hung it on a peg in the hall where it dripped water onto the flagstone floor, then pushed open the door to the main room—and froze.
Lily was sitting in a chair in front of the fire, brushing her shimmering dark hair. Her delicate features were flushed with warmth, the remnants of her recent bath still lingering on her skin. She wore a simple white dress that must have been in the bundle that Hamish had given them. It clung to her body in allthe right places, emphasizing her curves—and sending a flush to Oskar’s cheeks.
She turned as the door opened and rose to her feet. She smiled brightly at the sight of him, firelight dancing in her eyes, but her smile faltered as she caught sight of his expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Has something happened to Magnus and Emeric?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “There’s no word of them.”
“Then what is it?” she said, stepping closer. “Has something else happened?”
How had she learned to read him so easily? He thought he’d schooled his expression to blandness. Clearly, he had not.
Has something happened?he wanted to say.Aye, you could say that. I’ve had a rude reminder of who I really am, is what.
“Nothing ye need to worry about,” he muttered, hoping she would drop it.
She didn’t.
She squinted at him suspiciously, her hands on her hips. A lock of dark hair fell over her eyes and she flicked it away irritably.
“Oskar,” she said. “I’m not an idiot. I can tell when something’s bothering you.”
“I ran into some...trouble,” he admitted grudgingly, avoiding her gaze.
Lily’s hand unconsciously clasped her chest. “Were you hurt?”
“No,” he said quickly.
I was the one that did all the hurting.
Bryn’s taunting words echoed in his head.Once a villain, always a villain. Ye are still the black-hearted bastard ye have always been.
