“Blackbird,” he said softly, worry dripping from the word.
I didn’t have to force the relief that poured from me when I said, “You’re home.”
But his dark eyes were searching my face, looking for everything I was trying to hide. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head quickly. “I’ve just been worried,” I whispered, at least giving him that truth.
Every day he left had been agony, knowing he was willingly surrounding himself with other men from his world—men who could potentially be on William’s side. Every day had left me unable to fully breathe until he came home.
But he had to keep up pretenses.
In the last two months, I’d only been alone while the driver took Lucas to and from work or anything else business related. The driver returned to the house to protect me, making himself invisible while I stayed inside and trained or read, so I wouldn’t feel suffocated—as I had before.
Today had been the last day Lucas would go into work. Today had been the last day he would have to leave me for any reason. And even though I was so thankful for that—so thankful I wouldn’t have to worry for hours upon hours—I dreaded the next two and a half days.
It had felt nearly impossible to keep what was happening inside me from this man the last two weeks, but he’d been distracted enough with work and all the planning with David that it had been doable. But I could feel the anxiety and restlessness that these remaining days created. I could feel his need to spend every second with me as if it might be our last, because it was just doubling my own anxiety and reinforcing my decision to keep this from him.
He would do anything . . . anything to keep me safe.
But he wouldn’t be able to think clearly if he knew, and he would get himself killed.
His fingers trailed lightly over my cheek, then he cupped my face in his large hand. “Briar, I’ve been thinking . . .”
My heart fell into my stomach at his tone and the defeated look in his eyes.
“I don’t want you to go to the cele—”
“No,” I said quickly. “Lucas, no.”
“Briar, listen—”
“No, don’t tell me to listen,” I said through gritted teeth, and pushed him away so I could sit up on the bed. “I know what you’re doing, and you can’t do this to me. Not after all we’ve been through to make it here.” Tears were already falling down my face, but I didn’t bother to try to stop them. He was breaking my heart.
“Blackbird,” he said in a soft, soothing tone as he reached for me again.
I stopped him from touching me and kept my shaking hand in the air. “I’ve heard every conversation you’ve had with David over the last two months. I know what this would mean.”
Lucas’s face fell, but he didn’t attempt to placate me.
“You told him that once one of you buys a woman, you’re not just allowed to go to this annual gathering, but you have to. Your entire house has to—which means me. I know why David wouldn’t let you get me out of here. It was because of this night. If I’m not there, I know it will make a statement you can’t afford to make.”
“I can take care of myself,” he said in a calm tone that grated on me.
“I can’t let you die.”
My words snapped something inside him, and he reached for me quickly, cradling my face in his hands. “I can’t save you from something I can’t see coming,” his deep voice boomed. He looked like he was being tortured, but he was holding me as if I was precious. When he spoke again, his words were rough, his breaths uneven. “Don’t you understand, Briar? If you’re there, he will try to kill you. He knows I’ll be watching you, and watching every move he makes. So he’ll do it silently, without ever coming near you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said, his words twisted with grief. “And I’d rather die than live without you.” He sat back, releasing me so he could reach into his pocket. He pulled out an envelope and slowly handed it to me.
My eyebrows pulled together when I pulled out a black, square card. It looked like a paint chip, but was so thick it would’ve taken an actual effort to bend it. “I don’t . . .” I trailed off when I turned it over and saw the writing.
“The second auction of the year always immediately follows the celebration. I had to buy a ticket for appearances.”
I already knew what he was telling me, but that didn’t explain what I was holding in my hand. “What is this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“It doesn’t look like much, but that card you’re holding is worth ten thousand dollars . . .” he began.
My stomach rolled, and I had to swallow back my hatred and disgust for the men who lived in this world—who spent this kind of money just to sit in on an auction.
“. . . and the chip inside it is how we get into the auctions. It was delivered to me today.” Lucas tapped a finger on the silver-written note and growled, “That was already there.”
I didn’t need to ask who the message was from. The writing was exactly like I’d seen on the cards from the men who’d come to kill me.
Time to start over . . .
“I figured we wouldn’t hear from William because he’d failed at both attempts to take you, and he would be recovering. I had no idea he’d plan something for the celebration.”
I read the words over and over again, not realizing that my free hand had gone to my stomach at some point. But Lucas didn’t say anything. If he noticed, he probably guessed it was due to my fear.
“Maybe he means the two of you . . .”
“You know he doesn’t,” Lucas said as frustration seeped from him. “William doesn’t do anything without thinking it through. He could have called or put the message on the invitation to the celebration. He chose this—he’s sending a message. He’s knocking in the rhythm of a heartbeat, Briar.”
“Let him.” I dropped what I was holding and crawled onto his lap so I could cradle his face the way he had done mine earlier. His face blurred, so I shut my eyes and pressed my forehead to his, whispering, “Only a man who wants to die would knock on the Reaper’s door.”
Chapter 44
Day 182 with Blackbird
Lucas
I stood in the doorway of the bedroom and time seemed to get lost around me. It felt like days and seconds all at once as I watched my blackbird sleep, unaware of the war that raged inside me.
I wanted to scoop her into my arms, press my mouth to hers, and beg her to let me take her away. I wanted to wake her so I could spend one last hour worshipping her body, committing it to memory. I wanted to run before she woke so she couldn’t try to talk me out of what I knew I had to do.
She’d asked me to finish this—and that’s what I was going to do. But there was no way to win.
There had been times in my life I was sure I was going to die, but in that moment, I felt it in my bones. This was an end I was walking toward. My luck—as Briar had called it—had run out.