“Cec—” he croaks, clearing his throat and trying again. “Cecilia?”
“I’m here, baby.” I fuss over him for long, precious minutes we don’t have, then set to work untying the ropes. Darian stares at my face as though I’m an apparition.
“Is it really you?” he asks.
My hands tremble violently, and I have to inhale a few deep breaths to steady the adrenaline rush of seeing him in this vulnerable state. Darian has always been indestructible and larger than life. Nothing could touch him. I’m furious, I realize, as I meet his gaze. Furious that anyone would hurt him like this. Furious that someone tried to keep us apart.
“I’ll get you out of here.”
“Cecilia,” he says, and I stop trying to untie the rope around his ankle to wipe the tears from my eyes. It’s hard to look at him because it makes me want to murder whoever did this to him. “I thought…”
The haunted quality of his voice grips my aching heart in a vise. I raise my gaze, struck by the sincerity in his. He lifts his free hand and cups my cheek, touching me with a reverence I’ve never felt before. “You thought what?” I ask.
“I thought I might never see you again.” His chin wobbles as he strokes his thumb through the salty tears on my cheeks. “I thought…”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it.”
He thought they were hurting me while he was tied to a chair and hidden away in a closet, unable to save me.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him as I finish freeing him from the chair, the ropes falling to the floor. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
We exit the wardrobe, and I look back and take his hand. Darian pulls me to a stop and sweeps me up in his arms, his nose buried in my neck. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, breathing me in. “I swear if they hurt you, I will?—”
“No one hurt me.” I dig my fingers into the expanse of his back through his slightly damp shirt, confused for a moment as I ease back. “Why are your clothes wet?”
Before he can respond, my eyes widen as I remember his injury. “Your back… The crossbow… Are you okay?”
He reaches for my hand, and we cross the room. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” I say, noting the dried blood on his shirt.
It’s a lot of blood.
He presses a finger to his lips in a silent command to stay quiet and then releases my hand to open the door carefully. I wait patiently while he sticks his head outside, my palms clammy with nerves. Someone will come to check on us soon. I’m surprised no one has sounded the alarm yet, though there’s a football game on the TV. They’re always laxer on game night.
When the coast is clear, we exit the room. Darian is surprisingly light on his feet for such a large man, and I admire his agility as we turn the corner in sync.
We hurry downstairs, descending the staircase as silently as we can. Darian pauses on the second to the last step, listeningintently, and then we’re on the move again, running across the hallway.
As we turn another corner, Lauren appears and whacks Darian in the head with a baseball bat. He falls to the floor with a sickening thud, and my heart stalls at seeing him incapacitated.
Lauren sneers down at him, teetering on her heels. “Why do you always get the good parts?” she asks me as she lifts her gaze. “Is it because you’re a precious van der Meer? A runaway princess. Just because you were born into privilege, the rest of us should settle for less? Is that it? Well, I’ve got news for you, princess. The Antichrist wants nothing to do with your kind. You’re the abomination we’re fighting against. Just because you were let into our folds doesn’t mean you’re one of us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, inching back.
“Sure you don’t. The moment you were conceived, you were destined for grandeur. Isn’t that so? You were meant to lead at the top with the next generation Bishop.” Nostrils flaring, she steps over Darian’s unconscious body. “The futurequeen.”
“We were friends, you and I,” I say shakily, hating how scared I sound.
“We were never friends.”
One step closer.
I glance down at the bat in her hands, the end smeared with blood, and my throat jumps.
“I am done playing the role of your keeper. It’s time we do this my way.”
“Your way?” I gulp, inching away.
