I don’t hate Elise for her father’s cowardice, but I know it would make things easier.
Without warning, I rise to my feet. I throw Elise’s glass against the nearest wall and don’t react when a piece nicks my knuckles. When I throw another glass against the window, it drowns out some of the roaring in my ears. For a while, I standin the middle of the debris, blood dripping from my hands, and a loud pounding in my chest.
I don’t realize London is there until she curls herself against my back.
The warm and inviting smell of her, strawberries and vanilla, brings me back to the present.
I can’t afford to wallow in anger when we’ve lost our biggest ally.
Even if Thatcher is innocent, keeping him here and threatening Elise into submission has burned the bridge between us.
I turn toward London and hug her against me. She melts, and I bury my face in her hair. Then, I hoist her up and carry her over to the desk. I set her down, push her legs apart, and nestle between them. London runs her fingers down my back and stops.
I grab the back of her neck and wait for her to look at me. “You’re still here.”
London’s eyes widen. “Yes.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I murmur. “This won’t get any easier. You’ll just get better at shutting it out.”
London angles her head and says nothing.
I cover her mouth with mine and growl.
She tastes like hope and possibilities, everything I’ve spent my life running from.
I want to drown myself in her and forget about the world outside.
Even when a small voice in the back of my mind warns me that we can’t.
When London moves her fingers to my hair, I wrench my lips away. Then, I step out of her embrace and leave a few inches of space between us. London’s face is flushed. She pats down her hair and stares at me through hooded eyes.
“I’ll be up later.”
London lowers herself to the ground and picks her way through the debris from the broken glasses. “What can I do to help?”
“You’re already doing it.” I squeeze her hand on her way past. Then, I cross the room and open the door. Carlisle is on the other side, and he glares at London, who doesn’t look fazed as he leads her back upstairs. Once they’re out of earshot, I shut the door to the study and go off in search of Katia.
She’s in the East wing of the house, which only a handful of people are allowed in.
Noah is tied to a chair in the middle of the basement, with a single light bulb hanging over his head, and the smell of sweat and something else in the air. Katia sees me, and we exchange a quick look. I pause to roll my sleeves to my elbows and study Noah, who is holding himself erect and ignoring the dried blood on the side of his face.
“She’s never going to forget this, you know.”
I stop in front of Noah and tilt my head. “I don’t expect her to forget.”
“You’re only making things worse,” he says.
I reach for one of Katia’s knives and run it along the side of his face. “London might not forget what I have to do, but she will forgive me because she knows it’s necessary.”
Noah’s expression is incredulous. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
I stop at the base of his throat, over his bobbing Adam’s apple. “Why the sudden interest in what I do or don’t do?”
Is he finally understanding who he’s messing with?
Noah shrugs and looks away. “I don’t give a shit, but you know London will. She might have… feelings for you right now, but all the money and power in the world won’t change what you are.”
I dig the knife into his skin and wait for him to flinch. “You’re awfully confident for someone who is at my mercy. Tell me, Noah. Do you honestly believe this will win her back?”
