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He huffed. “Fine. Yes. You weren’t meant to be here, and like I already said, I’m sorry for dragging you along with me. This was never meant to be your task, just mine.”
“Task?”
He hung his head, exhaustion lining his eyes. “Yes. And I’m already fucking it up.”
Everything he’d said scattered like puzzle pieces. The longer we stood there, the more the edges filled in and the colours of his confessions began to paint a picture…a blurry picture slowly coming into focus, word by word.
“Fucking what up?” I murmured.
“This!” he whisper-hissed. “You. Me. If Victor guesses who I truly am—”
“Who you truly are?” My heart pitter-pattered. “Who is that exactly?”
“Christ, not that question again.” Pressing his forehead to mine, he breathed, “I’m merely trying to do the right thing, alright? That’s all.”
“The right thing being…”
“To help.” He closed his eyes. “I’m merely trying to help.”
And there it was.
The elusive clue, the final piece.
Every moment since we’d met in the Rockin’ Rabbit nightclub flashed before my eyes. His obvious discomfort tangled with his true nature. The need in him tempered by morals. The commitment to doing something that only seemed to cause him grief, all while a deeper force drove him. A force that looked so familiar because I felt it too.
Obligation.
A burden to someone you valued. A bond to what they needed.
I adored my brother above all things, but being his sister was a duty I would never be free of. I would always carry a debt of affection to keep him safe, well, and happy.
He’s here for someone else.
God, how had I been so stupid?
How had I not seen!
The nightclub.
It all makes sense now.
His unwillingness, the stiffness, the avoidance of me the moment he got me into that room with the table from hell. He hadn’t wanted to rape me. He’d thrown back drink after drink, almost as if he’d rather hurt himself than hurt me.
Ever since our eyes had met—in bad fortune or guided fate—his had been masked with lies so no one ever saw his true intentions.
But I saw them now.
Before I lost my nerve or second-guessed my wild epiphany, I grabbed his shirt and yanked him into me. His eyes flared as I stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his ear. “You’re undercover. Aren’t you? That’s why I keep getting mixed signals. Why you said you’re meant to come? Why it’s your task? You were sent here to save the jewels. Y-You’re a cop?”
“What?” He reared back, shooting a look at one of the cameras. As quickly as he backed away, he crowded me again, mirroring what I’d done. His lips grazed the shell of my ear, sending pinwheels over my skin.
“Saying such things will end badly,” he hissed. “For both of us. So don’t.”
For the first time, I felt a glimmer of salvation.
He didn’t deny it.
He didn’t laugh or hit me.
