Page 273 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

Kade looks back at Lachlan, whose wide eyes are fixed on the unconscious man on the ground.

The grip of the blade is warm in Kade’s hand.

He’s itching to bury it in this bastard’s neck.

Vasily tries to speak, but his voice is a strangled mess of swollen, scratchy pain. Kade hears a weak version of Lock, but nothing else distinct.

He touches Lachlan’s face.

The older man flinches hard as if Kade’s touch is electric.

Still no answer, but Vasily is pleading in a pained rasp.

‘Pozhaluysta, ne nado, ne nado, pozhaluysta!’

Please don’t.

Kade draws a deeper breath with which to ask why, but Lachlan speaks first, utterly pale, gaze haunted in a way Kade’s never seen before.

It’s barely more than a whisper.

‘Roman?’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Seven Years Ago

The snow on Christmas Eve is warmer than Julian Penhalyx.

Things have soured between them so significantly that everyone in the house knows something is wrong. Jules barely looks at Lachlan, doesn’t call him Bodyguard anymore.

Word has reached Penhalyx, who makes his approval known by gifting Lachlan an enormous bonus cheque. He mentions, in the same conversation, that several of his friends have children close to Mimi’s age and he intends to bring them to the Estate in summer.

A reward and a warning neatly paired.

A gift for summarily breaking his son’s heart.

Part of Lachlan knows this is for the best.

Whatever exists between them has always been another weapon Penhalyx can use. Jules will take it less hard when Lachlan eventually does what is necessary to get them free and clear of this place. Blaire and Danya will look after him. Vasily will be there. Mimi will have the family Lachlan built for her, and Jules will have people who love him.

He won’t need Lachlan.

It’s better this way.

Lachlan repeats that until the words become meaningless.

The night before Christmas, Jules isn’t in his room.

‘Control, give me a location on Cascade.’

‘Kestrel, be advised Cascade is on the sixth-quadrant balcony in November Sky.’

‘Heard.’

The North Wing is where Penhalyx keeps the parts of his life too valuable to enjoy. Paintings, sculptures, antique furniture no one is permitted to sit on. Whole rooms exist only to exhibit wealth beneath carefully controlled light. A cynical part of Lachlan wonders why Jules’ bedroom was never moved here.

He finds the balcony empty.