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I hold on to that.

I have to.

When I reach the top of the stairs, I pause at the door and listen.

Silence.

I slip through the door into the corridor.

The house is dark around me, the sconces dimmed low, portraits watching from the walls. Somewhere far away, a floorboard creaks.

I freeze.

My hand goes to the gun.

Nothing.

No footsteps.

No voice.

I force myself to move.

One step.

Then another.

Toward the garage.

Toward survival.

Toward tomorrow.

But with every silent step, one thought beats harder than all the others.

Nathaniel told me he loves me.

And then I walked away.

42

NATHANIEL

I wish I had the time to run to my suite of rooms, shower, and change into jeans and a sweatshirt. Slippers on my feet. Showing up in Cain’s office looking like I just dug a grave isn’t the smartest thing. But after I took the time to do a final sweep of the guest room, retrieving my belt and making sure Audrey didn’t leave any hair or blood behind, I don’t have that luxury.

I reach the office, knock, and then open the door.

Cain looks up when I enter. He’s dressed perfectly, in black trousers and a white shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled up.

His office suits him. Low lamps. Amber glass. A black marble fireplace. Shelves lined with leather-bound volumes no one reads. Cain’s own chessboard, the pieces carved from onyx and quartz, sits ready.

“Nathaniel,” he says.

“Cain.” I close the door behind me.

I cross the room slowly. Every step is measured. Every breath intentional.

I’m here to buy time.