I can feel her eyes on me while I lock the door and cross the room, heading straight to my side of the bed. Since I’m not planning on going back to sleep, there is no need to restrain her. Plus, I don’t want to irritate her skin any further.
Sliding under my blanket, I switch off the light and let my head fall back onto the pillow. I’m wide awake, but I don’t mind just lying here in the dark to think.
Nick was right, Aurora is not what I expected, and that is really making it hard to go through with what I have planned for her. But what other choice do I have now? If I don’t hand her over to Gabriel when the time comes, he is not going to hold up his end of the deal. I have to do this. There is no other choice.
By the time Aurora’s breathing evens out, and I’m sure she is asleep, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. The moonlight from the window is enough to make out her delicate features when I look over at her.
She looks peaceful now, innocent, and young… she won’t be for much longer. Her life is going to change once again, and knowing Gabriel’s reputation, it won’t be pleasant.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, dragging me out of my unwanted thoughts. Sighing, I reach for the device and unlock it. A message from Ethan pops up on the screen.Bad news. None of the bodies recovered at the Blackwell compound matches Donovan’s dental record. He is still alive.
No. This can’t be.
Dread fills my veins as I read the text over and over again, my fingers gripping the phone so tightly I’m surprised it hasn’t cracked yet.
A thousand thoughts run through my mind, but one is a clear front-runner. Relaxing my hand, I type out my reply and hit send.Find him. Now.
13
AURORA
This is bizarre. That’s saying something, considering everything I’ve been through lately.
I feel like I’m standing outside myself, watching as I go through the motions of getting ready for the funeral. Everybody’s going to be watching my every move, the way they always have. They might wonder if I’ll break down, or if I’ll be the strong person my father raised me to be.
There’s not a doubt in my mind they’ll want to see me crack. They might click their tongues and shake their heads and offer condolences the way normal people do at a time like this, but I know this world too well to be fooled. They won’t mean a word of it.
And deep down inside, I would bet most of them are glad he’s gone. The way I am. Still, I’ll pretend, because that’s what the world expects of me. My husband included.
He is waiting for me by the door as I step out of the closet. We haven’t talked much since that night we had tea. He mostly ignores me, but he hasn’t shackled me to the bed either. I just can’t figure him out. He is so hot and cold; it’s giving me whiplash. Either way, I have to be strong. Yes, he was nice to meafter my nightmare, but I can’t forget he is the one who put all of this ugliness into motion.
Besides, leaving me alone so much of the time only makes it easier for me to think and plan. That’s what I’ve been doing, too. Observing carefully. Learning routines. Listening when voices float my way—guards changing shifts, the conversations Liam has with them and with his team. There’s a rhythm to the household, and I’m learning it. Eventually, I’ll find a crack in his armor, and I’ll use it against him the way he would use it against me if he had a chance.
“Do I look like a grieving daughter?” I ask him as we walk to the elevator.
He looks me up and down in a way that makes me feel naked, then nods. “I buy it. Make sure there are tissues in your purse,” he advises. “For the moment when you break down. You might not think it will happen, but there’s something very final about that casket descending into a hole.”
I haven’t cried yet. Not for my father, anyway. “I’m all set,” I murmur as we step onto the elevator. He looks like a million bucks in his fitted black suit, clean-shaven, with a Patek watch gleaming on his wrist. Everything about him screams power, status. It’s a shame he’s so empty inside. He’s careful to hide the code he punches into the panel before the doors slide shut with an almost silent whooshing sound. Then we’re on our way down, where a black SUV waits for us.
Once inside, he pulls out his phone and shuts me out, but that’s fine. I have nothing to say to him, and all he seems to care about is taunting me. Like a sick fuck who gets off on torture.
In other words, he’s a lot like my father. I have to hide a smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth. He would shit a brick if I pointed out their similarities. And then he would take it out on me, which is why I keep my mouth shut. This isn’t my first rodeo.
I’m actually on my way to my father’s funeral. Does it make me a bad person, the fact that I’ve imagined this so many times? Never with any sadness, never with any fear. I looked forward to it the way a kid looks forward to summer vacation, only there was no way to count the days. I could only hope he pissed off the wrong person and wound up with his head blown off.
He might not have had his head blown off, but he definitely made the wrong enemy. Or the right one, depending on how I look at it.
“You don’t have to pretend to be strong,” Liam murmurs. When I glance his way, I see he hasn’t taken his eyes off his phone, thumbs flying over the screen. “You can break down whenever you feel like it. Deep down inside, I know you must miss him. He was the only protector you ever had. Now you’re all alone in the world, and we both know how sheltered you’ve been. You don’t have a fucking chance without him.”
He doesn’t have the first clue. There’s a little bit of satisfaction in that. Knowing he has the totally wrong idea, that he’s operating on an assumption instead of bothering to learn the truth. Maybe he doesn’t have everything worked out as well as he thinks he does. He’s too busy thinking he’s the smartest person around, no matter where he is or who he’s with.
When I turn my head his way, he lifts his eyebrows. The look on my face must speak volumes. “All right, then,” he murmurs, chuckling to himself while I silently seethe. I cannot wait to watch him fail. I’m not sure how it will happen. I only know it needs to. It’s what he deserves—not for killing Dad, but for underestimating me. He’s going to wish he never had.
There’s something else he hasn’t realized, too. Whenever he tries to get a reaction out of me, assuming I would have any kind of feelings toward Dad but hatred and contempt, he shows me more of himself than he means to. He tells me, without knowing it, that he loved his family. He still does. He’s not this cold,heartless machine he pretends to be. He honestly can’t believe it’s possible for me to truly hate the man who gave me life.
I like that. If I pointed it out, he would see it as a weakness. I could throw it in his face, but I think it’ll be smarter to keep it to myself, like tucking it away for later.
We decided against a viewing at the funeral home. There’s not much to view, anyway. I don’t want to think about the condition Dad’s corpse must be in. Not out of love, but out of disgust. I was disgusted by him enough all my life. I don’t need it to continue now that he’s dead.
