Pride swelled in Maxen’s chest so sharp it near knocked him senseless. For a man who’d been called monster more times than he could count, the words struck like salvation. He did not want to stay any longer. He bent, swept Calliope into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather, and strode for the door.
Fitz and Dare stepped aside, the former grave as a judge, the latter with infuriating amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Drake,” Maxen growled, pausing only a heartbeat. “Round up those two and find the other one.”
“Why?” Calliope asked.
“They touched you. Took you from your shop against your will. They’re going to the dungeon.”
Her lips parted, but before she could speak, Reaper chuckled. “I’ll collect the other one,frère. You go make up with your lady.”
Christ yes. He was about to do just that.
Chapter Thirty-One
Calliope’s return toBrighton had been a whirlwind of dazedness, kisses, and untimely interruptions by Reaper. So much had happened that she could scarcely wrap her mind around it all. Prince had found the tavern in her absence, and Holly, her husband, and Violet had also sought Maxen out since her kidnapping had been witnessed. Due to being away on business, Mr. Fitz never received any news until the day Maxen, his brothers, and the Earl of Dare showed up on his doorstep.
Mr. Rollings was apparently alive and well. Retired.
And Mr. Peregrine was Maxen’s half-brother!
And his uncle had ordered her death simply in an attempt to bring Maxen to his knees. Perhaps that would have been more shocking if she didn’t have an evil stepmother. However, the threat of his uncle still loomed over them.
If that did not mean she’d been well and truly claimed by Brighton’s underworld, nothing would.
She could scarcely believe she was back in her shop, and this time with no fear of being dragged off to her old house. That chapter had closed. Nothing else had changed here either. Well, except for one glaringly obvious thing: Maxen Fury had moved into her lodgings.
Speaking of the man . . .
She padded upstairs, Prince faithfully at her heels. “You and I,Prince,” she murmured, “we have come a long way, haven’t we?” He wagged his tail. “We are not alone anymore.”
She was, however, alone at the moment. The rooms were quiet, and Maxen was nowhere in sight.
Her gaze fell on an unassuming little chest set neatly beside the bed. Curious, she crossed the room, lifted the lid, and gasped.
Sun and stars!
Her slippers lay nestled inside, the very ones she had all but forgotten in the chaos of events. So Maxen had found the other one that day she’d left. He hadn’t said a word. Her heart filled with inexplicable sentiment.
He had kept them. As though they were some cherished relic.
“Stars,” she breathed, stroking them. “You ridiculous, impossible man. Who keeps slippers?” she whispered to Prince. “And how am I supposed to resist that?”
She fell even more in love with the man.
Beside them rested a dagger. She traced a finger over it before moving to the final item. A ribbon, worn and faded. She touched it lightly, then lifted it from the box.
“It was my mother’s,” a voice said behind her.
She started, turning to find Maxen leaning against the doorframe.
“I killed her.”
The words should have chilled the air, and Calliope blinked, but she had learned enough of this man to know there was far more to that admission than those three, terrible words.
“Why?” she whispered.
“She was in pain. Beaten near to death by my father, the late Duke of Crane. The doctor said a bone had punctured her lungs, and there was nothing to be done.”
