Page 86 of Power of Shadow

I can see him; I can feel him. Maybe it’s my intuition, or maybe it’s my imagination.

Seeing my shock, Ryker turns on his heel. He mirrors my glance, and I understand the situation is critical. It’s too late. He sees Charles Baker there.

All he does is take a step when I grab him firmly by the arm. We both keep our eyes fixed on the balcony, and we see the man shrouded in darkness turn and leave through the door hidden behind the curtain.

Ryker wants to go after our target, but I grab him even tighter. In that moment, I realize I have to do something.

“What’s wrong, Ash?” Ryker’s questioning gaze falls on me. “He’s there. Let’s finally get him. I want to plunge a knife into his throat.”

“No.” I hold him tighter.

“What do you mean, no? Ash, we have our target within reach.”

“I know, Ryker. I’ll explain everything, but you can’t kill him.”

“Can’t kill him?” The disbelief in his voice is clear. “Why not?”

My throat is as dry as a desert. Thoughts race through my head at the speed of light. Inside, I’m struggling like a caged animal. I don’t know what to do!

Oh, God!

I really hope I won’t regret what I’m about to do.

Don’t let me regret it.

I take a risk and open up a little more to this man. Only then do I answer him. “Because Charles Baker is my father.”

Chapter 19

Ryker

“Would you like something to drink?” I ask as soon as we enter my apartment. “Water, wine, something stronger?”

Ash follows me into the living room, looking around. Even though I’ve lived here for several years, there isn’t much here. I like space and minimalism. Having things just for show irritates me. Maybe it’s because my entire childhood was for show; our whole family, in a way.

Some would say this interior is as cold as my heart. It has no soul or cozy vibe. To me, though, it’s just free of nonsense. Simple, raw. And that suits me.

“Hit me with whatever you like,” she says, and her tone doesn’t sit well with me. It’s shaky and uncertain.

Why do her feelings mirror mine? I can feel them right under my skin.

“Interesting statement.”

As I pour us a few fingers of my favorite whiskey on the rocks, my thoughts can’t stop circling around tonight. What Ash said is like a bomb that changes the course of this total war. It changes everything.

And I don’t understand any of it.

When I finally snapped out of my stupor at the banquet, I suggested we go back to my place. Did she feel obligated to explain it to me? Did she not want the evening to end just as much as I didn’t? As a result, she agreed to my suggestion.

And here we are.

With drinks in hand, I approach the U-shaped couch. I wait for Ash to sit down and take a seat across from her. I want this conversation to be clean so I can watch her. I hand her a drink. She doesn’t even flinch as the first sip goes down her throat.

“This is good,” she praises. “A mildly burnt flavor. You have good taste.”

I nod. “Ash—”

“I know what you want to ask. I owe you an explanation. It’s just that it’s all so confusing that I don’t even know where to start.”