“Half the offshore accounts are yours. I’ll be a part of your team but only if you get to walk away with something.”
I tilt my head, coaxing the surprise back from my features.
“I do not need your pity. Or your money.”
“It’s fifty percent of the inheritance you would have gotten in the first place. I wouldn’t call it a pity share.”
“And yet that offer does not stand for the rest of our team members.”
“You’re taking care of them, and I…”
He stops himself too late, the words tumbling silently from his mouth.
And I’m taking care of you.
“I’m not a part of your crew.”
It’s a harsh reminder, one that feels just as cruel escaping my lips.
“This is a one-time deal, Devil. We’re teaming up for a common goal and after it’s accomplished we go our separate ways. A temporary arrangement meant to be forgotten.”
I stab at the blooming hope until it withers and dies. Collapses into itself until there’s nothing but the cold empty pieces that make up the organ inside my chest.
Christopher watches me slaughter the moment with an inkling of remorse shuttering across his face.
“I’ll be a part of your team, Miss Drache.” He lets out a long breath, “But I won’t be able to forget you. Not before and certainly not after this is over.”
I watch him glance at my scars one last time. Listen to the sharp intake of breath as he takes in the damage careless men left behind.
The hesitation in his step before he turns and walks away.
An uncomfortable weight settles on my chest as I watch him leave. The metallic scent of blood lingers in the air, the bitter memories of my childhood washing away the warmth of his presence.
By the time Christopher is gone, there are nothing but chills wreaking havoc on my body.
The steady drip of poison spreading across my tongue.
The stench of death staining my flesh.
Pulling the silver charm from my wrist, I blow into it and wait for my baby to rejoin me. Together, we leave the fractured fairytale and return to our reality, the empty manor that doubles as a prison.
The place I’m forced to call home.
Chapter 27
CHRISTOPHER
She didn’t cover her scars.
It’s the thought that’s been haunting me the last twenty-four hours. The sight that kept me tossing and turning, the image of Calista’s toned legs riddled with secrets far heavier than my own.
They were ugly scars. Grotesque and hideous, they screamed out from the bottom of her spandex shorts, the battle wounds waiting beneath the dragon draped across her torso.
A fierce, beautiful creature who isn’t half as powerful as the woman it belongs to.
The woman who wears her scars with pride.
The same ugly scar tissue I try and hide.
