“I was planning on having a conversation this week, but now I think tonight may be the best time for it.”
Shit. What do I do? Maybe he did figure out what was going on with the angels. But if that’s the case, and if he truly has lied to me about so much, he’s going to use his talents of persuasion to tell me exactly what I want to hear.
And I can’t let myself be fooled again. I need the space to clear my mind before I can hear out whatever he wants to say.
“Can we wait until after I get back?” I ask, feigning a yawn. “I’m actually a little excited about tomorrow, and I’d like to get to sleep soon so I can leave early.”
He looks conflicted, and his posture deflates slightly when he says, “Okay. Sure. We’ll talk when you get back.”
“Perfect. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Brielle. Come home safe.”
I hold back the tide of emotion that’s threatening to break through the walls I’ve put up, and when I round the corner to head upstairs, I slip Ambrose’s necklace out of its usual place in my purse and set it on the small table beside the doorway.
I won’t be needing it tomorrow—or maybe ever again—but Ambrose won’t realize that until it’s too late. I’ll be gone before he’s awake, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be back.
CHAPTER 42
AMBROSE
November
Every time she leaves, the weight of my lies crushes me a little bit more.
I know I manipulated her into this deal in the first place, but everything inside me wants to tell her the truth—that she doesn’t have to do this anymore—to make her stay here with me away from the danger that these men pose.
The last time she went out to kill on her own, she’d gotten hurt, and I would never be able to forgive myself if something worse happened.
Something seemed different before when she left this time. She was colder, though I can’t figure out why. I would have understood if my professing my love for her last week had pushed her away, but she maintained the same level of affection for days afterward. It’s only this evening that she has started hiding behind feigned smiles.
I don’t know what happened that made her entiredemeanor shift so quickly, but I’m desperately hoping it had nothing to do with me despite the churning in my gut telling me that something is really wrong.
My only options at this point are to continue pretending or to admit I lied about our deal being anything more than eloquent words and my taking advantage of her naiveté. When she finds out this was all a lie, she’ll leave, and I’ll be devastated. Empty. Even now, thinking about it makes my chest ache. But the longer I allow her to put herself in precarious situations to kill these increasingly powerful men, the more I put her at risk.
I need to admit the lie I’ve buried myself in, even if it means letting her go forever.
CHAPTER 43
“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”
—Mary Shelley
Despite my best efforts, I’m unable to sleep, even though I know I’ll desperately need the rest for the day ahead. I’ve spent the entire night tossing and turning, thinking through what I’ll do once I leave here. Where I’ll go. Who I’ll be.
When 4:30 a.m. rolls around and I still haven’t slept, I take a deep breath and brace myself for what’s ahead, the cold numbness growing as I come to terms with my reality.
The floor is frigid beneath my feet as I stand and, as quietly as possible, bundle up in thick layers. Mysuitcase is already packed and waiting by the bedroom door. I cast one last glance around the room to make sure I’m not forgetting anything essential, then grab my suitcase and creep down the stairs, saying a silent prayer that Ambrose stays fast asleep.
When I make it downstairs and to the front door, I turn and take in the sight of the dark, cozy cabin for one last time. A place that once felt like a prison now feels like a home, a refuge.
But I can’t stay, I remind myself. And with that, I shrug my purse over my shoulder, lift my suitcase, and head outside into the brisk November night.
The black sky seems like it might swallow me whole as I walk across the yard to where the Camaro is parked. I sort of wish it would.
I flick the headlights on once I’ve pulled out onto the road, and I take the winding curves slowly. The devastation of leaving Ambrose is one thing, but the dread of where I’m headed is another. But I need to go back one last time.
Once I make it onto the highway, I head southeast. Anytime my thoughts turn to Ambrose and my heart begins to ache, I remind myself why I’m doing this. I need my freedom, and he tricked me into giving it away. Regardless of what he may have lied about, he never should have fooled me into making a deal with him. Especially one that forced me to witness death at the very least, and kill at the very worst.
