Page 164 of Outcast’s Vow

“I’m fine, Sylvie.”

Even bleeding out, he still wants to stand on his own two feet, the stubborn bastard.

“Let’s get you bandaged and let’s get out of here.”

“Sounds like a good plan, Highness.”

As we stumble out of the circular room, my father and Cromwell stay behind us, muttering darkly to each other as their goons scurry away in search of the killer.

“The Masked Killer?” I ask my husband as we enter the banquet hall. “Was it him?”

Baptiste smiles weakly.

“Seeing your face and hearing my name on your pretty lips are all I need. The Castaways might need something else. I don’t want to hang around here, though. I can’t bear their pity.”

Everyone in the banquet hall gawks. Rumors are already being spread. Dread hangs in the air. Someone drops a champagne glass when they see Baptiste covered in blood.

We need to leave. We need to escape.

I want to scream at these people. I want to tell them all that this has happened because of them. Because of this cursed Order.

But years of etiquette training holds me back.

As we pass through the gathered Order, my father speaks to the crowd.

“The night is over,” he announces. “Go back to your homes. Place your trust in us. We will restore our Order. We will find and destroy this so-called Masked Killer.”

But Father’s words are not enough. There are murmurings. He has a rebellion on his hands. Trust is rapidly fading in the leadership of the Order.

This truly could be the end of the Castaways unfolding, but neither Baptiste nor I could care.

I find a medical kit and start to bandage Baptiste’s wound. I can’t think straight.

“Your hands are shaking,” my husband remarks, calmly watching me as I fumble the dressing.

“I thought... I thought you were...”

“It would take a lot more than a knife wound to take me down,” Baptiste replies in that cocky arrogance of his. And even in the midst of despair and fear, he makes me smile.

“I told you we shouldn’t have come back,” I whisper. “I told you.”

“I think you were right,” Baptiste replies.

“This is their fault. They can’t even catch a killer. They’re losing their power.”

Before Baptiste can reply, Father appears by my side, placing a stern hand on my husband’s shoulder.

“We’re going to need you,” he tells him somberly.

My husband looks at me. I look back at him.

“Let me talk to my wife first, Elwood. I do nothing without her.”

66

BAPTISTE

We’re back in the New Orleans hotel I booked before we ventured out to the gothic mansion. Before we were split up. Before I had to face off against a man who was determined to end my life.