“Enough! She’s not yourloveand I don’t give a damn about your gratitudes!” David cut in, fuming, the words sharper than the sword he held. “The only thing I care about isher.”A finger stabbed toward me.“The one person you carelessly put in danger tonight—who would have died, if not for our arrival!”
A fire blazed behind his eyes, the kind that leveled cities to the ground.
“Whatever job arrangement you have with these thugs,” David spat, stepping toward me. “And whateverelseis going on—ends now!”
The look he shot Lochlainn was that of a gun, taking aim.
“Honey,” he snapped. “Take her to the house.”
How dare he! I was far past being a child. He had no right to command me away. Especially after revealing another one of his lies.
The look on his face had my stomached tightening. I didn’t know what he would say,or do, to them after dragging me away. I knew David, and he wasn’t cruel. But this man in front of me—the Lord of Loveland—I was completely unfamiliar with.
Yes, I made a mistake tonight.
Yes, I put myself in danger.
Yes, Ialmost died.
But it wasn’t entirely their faults—it was mostly my own recklessness. My stupid, horrible luck that there just so happened to be some psycho monster lurking in the woods.
He came here when I needed him, saved me. And Godknows I love him even more for that, but love isn’t a leash. And I refuse to be dragged away like a toddler. Another tactic to avoid having to give me answers, no doubt.
“Wait!” I gently pushed Honey’s hand away. “You don’t get to do this!” My voice broke. “Youdon’tget to dictate my life.”
I wore my stubbornness like armor.
“That creature—what happened—wasn’t their fault! Don’t take it out on them. They didtryto help me!”
Right?I hadn’t imagined their frantic yells, the gunshots, Pogue blasting the beast away . . .
The hurt in my body began to throb. Or maybe it was my heart.
Pain laced with confusion, but it wasn’t only from tonight. No, it went much deeper. It was the agony of always being blindsided by lies dressed up as protection, the constant limits placed on my life, the warning that people would always want to hurt me while never telling mewhy, the pain of never fitting in no matter where I was, of never being good enough, of never being trusted to take care of myself. It was too much. There was no room to breathe, to grow.
It was all . . . too . . . much . . .
Tears welled in my eyes, but not sad tears. This time, these were the worst kind—the kind you didn’twantto cry. The kind that came when your soul was beyond sadness. Born of frustration so deep it crackled under my skin.
A few feet away, Finley looked torn, like he could see the war waging inside me. He cautiously moved closer, raising a hand as if offering safe passage off a rickety rope bridge that was about to collapse.
“No!” David protested, voice cleaving the moment in half. His gaze cut down Finley like an axe, right before he craned his neck toward me.
“Maybe some meant well . . . but look around you. Look atthe situation they put you in. The damage done to your body. Damage that could have beenavoidedif some hadn’t selfishly cowered away in fear!”
The look he gave Pogue was firing.
“Their pockets will always be deeper than any care they claim to have for you. Selfishness and greed willalwayscome first.”
He softened when he looked at me.
“These aren’t friends. They’re opportunists.” Then, he nodded once to Honey.
I opened my mouth, but the words never came.
Opportunists. And I, the opportunity.
Blinding white light rifted us away.
