Good. Let it haunt him.
After Cole leaves, I consider all the things I could say to Alistair.
He beats me to the punch.
“You had to come back, didn’t you?”
“She would have died if I hadn’t.”
“Yeah. I guess I would have done the same.”
“There’s no guessing about it. If anything happened to Britney, you’d move heaven and earth to save her. Even if it meant bartering away your soul.”
“Yeah, because I’m a Keeper.” He chuckles. “I guess you are too.”
The realization hits me like a sharp slap to the face.
I am a Keeper. Same as Alistair and the rest of the paired men of the Keep.
Except I don’t get to keep my Kept woman. I fucked up. Big time.
And now she’s some other man’s Kept.
I could ask him if she’s been claimed. The question is on the tip of my tongue.
But I feel like I would die if I knew the answer.
“So, how long are you in for?” I ask.
He’s quiet. I look over to see him reclined on his cot, hands behind his head.
“It’s not like you’re a threat,” I reason, hoping I’m wrong about his silence.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m a threat. I lied when I said you were dead. Putting me down here is necessary for Cole to regain control of the others.” He snorts in disdain. “And I reckon my absence will help the male-female ratio ever so slightly.”
“Jesus, man, I’m sorry.” They aren’t words I typically say, but I feel them within the depths of my broken soul.
“Save it, because unless you have something insightful to say about the shit that Cole cares about, sorries don’t mean shit.”
Chapter 18
HUNTER
Weeks Later
Sometimes I think Cole is better at torture than I ever was.
It’s not so much that he’s inflicting physical pain. It’s that he’s kept me alive for so long. That might not make sense with how much time I’d spent behind bars before I was recruited to the CP, but when I was incarcerated, I didn’t haveherto think about.
Fiona, with her bright red hair and plush lips that say exactly what I need to hear.
I know she’s alive, starting a new life as someone’s Kept woman. Perhaps she thinks of me. Fleeting thoughts, she pushes to the back of her mind.
What we had was a beautiful sin, not meant to last.
If only I had died before the dead rose, then I wouldn’t be living with the knowledge that there was something better forme. A dark soul that craved the comfort of a sharp blade on soft flesh.
Not her flesh.
