“So you all have different reasons for doing this?”
He nods. “We don’t probe each other’s secrets. Sebastian never told us his reason. Aleksei blames The Association for his family’s death, like I do.” He shakes his head, eyes haunted. “Eventhough he should blame me. I killed his parents. Rafe, I think, wants to save us, but I don’t know why. Ren lost someone close. And Sofia…”
A ragged exhale escapes between his clenched teeth. “I lost her for two years after the fire. She never told me what they did to her, but…”
My breath lodges in my esophagus. I think of my half sister, Taylor, the strongest woman I know, who was raped when she was sixteen at a hotel lounge during an initiation ceremony she walked into.
I squeeze his forearm. “It wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was me—”
“No,” his eyes flash to mine, “never say that. That’s what I tried and failed to tell myself for years. It’s a lie.”
Elias places his hand over my heart. “The most beautiful part of you is your kind heart. And they took advantage of it.”
Voice urgent, he says, “Lana, don’t blame yourself. Let me shoulder it all. Promise me.”
A beat passes by, and I nod, my chest heavy.
“I promise.”
He exhales and lets go. I immediately miss his touch. “There’s a dinner we need to attend next week. The Berishas want to know you better.”
“What for?”
“Gathering intel. Lording their power over me. Your guess is as good as mine. I revealed one too many cards at the Benefaction.”
My gaze darts to his.
He told them how much I meant to him by avenging me.
A muscle twitches in his jaw, and he glances away. “You’ll be thirty-five in a month and a half.”
His words slam down like a butcher’s knife.
“You know what they want from me, don’t you?” I ask.
A flash of something—fear or awareness—crosses his eyes. He nods. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll protect you. They can’t touch you. I’ll get you out of this safely.”
And then what? Send me home afterward? What if I don’t want to go?
Elias cradles my face, and I lean into his touch. “Trust me, I will never let anything happen to you.”
Another heavy beat sits between us. “I trust you.”
And I realize—it’s true. Even when he held me hostage at the vault, there was a gut feeling telling me this man was safe.
He smiles. “Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Don’t know if you’ll like it, but I think I’m good at this.”
“Let me be good at this too.”
Twenty years ago, a sweet boy gave me his coat because he thought I was cold. Twenty years later, a brutal man sheltered me from the cold in front of Hollow Gardens.
He’s good at it—loving me.
“I already love it.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, my fingers brushing his chest.
My eyes sting when I see the bullet wounds and knife scars on his muscles there too.
