I feel Calanthe standing at my back, contemplative and steady.
“Charlotte,” Alexander says.
I want to growl that the woman’s name isn’t important. What’s important is whether she produced an offspring with her first husband.
“Yes. They had a son. One who either died or left the organization a few months after we got Charlotte and Dominic.”
“What was his name?” I whisper, hoping, praying that my gut is wrong. That the man I’m falling for isn’t?—
“Reeve,” Alexander answers.
“What’s Quinn’s maiden name?” My words are barely louder than my breaths.
I guess the letter it will start with before Gael confirms it. “Hayes.”
RR??QH
Reeve Rafferty.
Quinn Hayes.
What does the broken, bleeding heart even symbolize? His unrequited love for Quinn Hayes? Or was—isit requited in spite of who she chose to marry?
A restless swarm moves across my skin. “Do we have any visuals of this Reeve?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Gael says. “Alexander?”
My brother shakes his head, which agitates his short ponytail.
I suddenly see Cillian stepping out of the gym shower, his torso festooned with scars. Scars and a necklace… “Alexander, can you pull up all known pictures of the mom from when she was married to Levy?”
Gael’s brow furrows. “Why?”
“Because I need to see her engagement ring.”
Alexander manages to find a picture of Charlotte from before her husband entered the service of the Holy Hunters. She’s sitting at a table outside a lobster shack, wearing a straw hat that she holds in place with her left hand.
I steal the tablet from Alexander’s hands and pinch the screen until the small ring becomes so large I can count the number of stones and decipher their color.
I want to toss the tablet out the plane window.
Malachi was right. Cillian wasn’t with me forme. He was with me for…for I don’t know what reason, but I plan to find out.
“Gael, tell your pilot to turn back immediately,” I growl, my heart feeling as torn as the one on Calanthe’s T-shirt and Cillian’s—Reeve’sshoe.
My lash line burns, but I refuse to let the tears fall.
I hate Malachi for being right, but not as much as I hate—with every cell in my being—Reeve…fucking…Rafferty.
Chapter 43
Reeve
Iwake to the smell of bacon, cinnamon, and fried capers. An odd combination until I open the door separating the bedroom from the sitting area and uncover a breakfast spread fit for a small family. There are a dozen plates, two jugs, and one thermos.
Although my stomach rumbles, I leave the food behind to go in search of Electra. I check the bathroom. Find it empty. I try to call her, but my phone’s battery is dead, so I call the reception instead and find out she left in a cab three hours ago.
I’m not usually a heavy sleeper, which leads me to leap to an insane theory—that Electra somehow found my text to Trenton, or recognized Lara, and put two and two together, and drugged me.
