He hadn’t been prepared for the surge of anger he’d felt upon learning about Tariq’s obsession with Vera. Despite her assurances, the mercenaryhadhurt her. Frightened her.Touchedher.
That made his vision haze.
Wilf sending him on a walk had been a good thing. But it hadn’t granted him enough time to wrestle his emotions into submission, and so he really wasn’t prepared for Vera insisting they talk about what had happened in Wexon.
Fates, he didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not in that charged moment when he wasn’t thinking clearly.
He didn’t want Vera to remember her reasons for rejecting him.
At least that hadn’t happened. While Vera hadn’t rescinded any of her words from that night, shehadapologized for hurting him. Not for the words themselves; just for how they’d impacted him.
It was something. Frankly, it had been enough to stun him to silence. Because if she was sorry for his pain, then maybe—in time—she could grow to care for him again. If she was willing to leave Wexon in the past, then maybe he had a chance of winning her back.
The way she’d shouted his name at the fountain, and the fierce way she’d held him . . . It had made him think—hope—that perhaps, somehow, shedidstill care for him. Perhaps not love, but any degree of care was better than the cool disdain she’d shown him before her abduction. In Wexon, she’d made it clear that she blamed him for Ivonne’s death. Rationally, he knew that wasn’t entirely fair, yet he couldn’t blame her for how she felt. And it was true: if he’d caught the Rose earlier, the assassin wouldn’t have been able to kill Ivonne.
He hated that he didn’t have an argument.Love me anywaywasn’t good enough.
Motion outside the grimy common room window drew his eye. A small group of men had ridden up to the Black Scorpion, but with his tangled thoughts, he dismissed them almost at once.
Then he glimpsed one of the riders, and shock and disbelief blasted him.
Bennick?
He jerked into motion, running for the door. By the time he’d darted out of the inn, Bennick’s back was turned as he swung off the horse. His boots landed hard on the ground and he gripped the saddle tightly, not turning.
It seemed impossible. How was Bennick here—riding a horse—after being run through only weeks ago?
“Bennick?”
The travel-worn man looked over his shoulder, and the ugly knots of emotion that had been strangling Venn snapped with sheer relief.
His best friend stared back at him, breathing and whole.
“Fates, you’re alive!” Venn rushed forward.
Bennick tensed, and that show of his pain stopped Venn from embracing him. He still grasped his shoulder. “Are you all right? Should you be riding?”
“I’m fine.” His words were too hard to be believed, but any argument dried on Venn’s tongue as Bennick grabbed his arm. Desperation lived in his eyes as well as his tone. “Have you found them?”
Guilt soured in his stomach and he squeezed Bennick’s shoulder. “We have Vera. Clare helped her escape three days ago.”
His eyes flared with agony. “Clare is still with them?”
“Yes.” He would have given anything to change that answer. To give Bennick the relief Venn had, knowing Vera wasn’t with the mercenaries anymore.
Bennick’s spine stiffened, and Venn didn’t miss the way his hand ghosted across his injured side. “Do we know where she is?”
“She must still be in the city. The Rose has some ideas.” Venn led the way into the inn; Bennick needed to sit down, whether he acknowledged it or not.
He led Bennick to one of the bedrooms upstairs, and then he told his friend everything.
By the time they’d finished exchanging stories, it was clear that Bennick had reached a new level of torture.
He’d just learned that the woman he loved thought he was dead. That Clare had been mourning him the entire time she’d suffered at the hands of ruthless men. She didn’t know he was desperately fighting to save her—that he was coming for her.
He looked utterly destroyed.
Venn took pity on him, giving him a moment of privacy while he excused himself to find food for them. It was obvious Bennick was exhausted and hungry, though Venn doubted he had much of an appetite.
