I sit back, giving her space as she approaches the tree. She kneels beside it, her fingers reaching out to brush the earth at its base.
“Elias,” she whispers, and the name hangs in the air between us.
I remain still. I’m not sure if it's my place to intrude. Yet she’s chosen to share this with me.
“This is where I buried him last year,” she says after a long silence.
The image of her carrying him alone through the woods, single-handedly, digging his grave, then letting him go, of everything that meant something to her, tightens a knot in my stomach.
“He was the only person who ever saw me,” she continues, her fingers still moving through the soil as if seeking a connection with what lies beneath. “Not what I could do for him, or what he could make me into. Just me.”
I taste blood and realize I’ve bitten the inside of my cheek. I rage at the implication that I don’t see her, that I wouldn’t give everything for her. But I understand she doesn’t trust me completely, just like I don’t trust her.
“Why show me this?” I ask, unable to hide the discomfort her words have just caused.
She looks up at me, moisture gathering at the corners of her eye. “Because you need to understand what drives me. What I am willing to do.” Her gaze is unflinching, like she’s trying to hold back. “He would have liked you. You would have probably been the only guy I’ve ever been with that he would callrightfor me… If things were different. Maybe in another world.”
Her statement catches me off guard. I’m not usually at a loss for words, but I find myself speechless. The vulnerable honesty coming from her is more disarming than any weapon she could use against me.
“I’m not him,” I finally say, my words coming out more harshly than I intended.
She smiles, or at least tries to. “No. You’re not.”
She rises then, her hand lingering on the tree as she steps away. Whatever emotion has briefly surfaced is hidden nowbehind the armor she wears so well. But I know the true her. The depth of her capacity for love, for loyalty. It changes nothing and everything.
She tries to leave, but I stop her. She was alone the last time she was here. Now she needs to know she will never be alone again. “Little curse,” I say, wrapping my arms around her, “just because I let you keep your façade, let you feel brave, doesn’t mean I don’t feel what’s inside. Whether you like it or not, now you have someone to turn to for everything.” She turns her face away from me, probably so I won’t see her crying.
I keep her there for a few more moments, kissing her hair. “I will kill every single one of them. I promise,” I whisper, then I let her go, and she storms ahead of me, following the path back to the car.
We walk back through the forest, ending up side-by-side now rather than one following the other. Something has changed between us. It’s not trust exactly, but understanding. Or recognition of mutual goals that drive us. The hunt has taken on a new meaning now, not just protecting what’s mine. It’s about vengeance for what was taken from her.
twenty-three
-Ares-
It’s been a week, and 404 has managed to get us McAllister’s schedule. That puts us right on his trail and into a fancy restaurant downtown.
I adjust the cuffs of my tailored suit, studying everyone present here tonight. Across from me, Brynn sips her water, her designer black dress wrapping perfectly around her, making things difficult for me as always.
We chose our table perfectly, with a clear sightline to the entrance and close enough to the kitchen for a secondary escape if needed. I don’t think it will be the case tonight because McAllister doesn’t suspect us, but all these habits have kept me alive for centuries, so I’m not going to dismiss them now.
“He’s usually punctual,” I murmur, checking my watch, the damn thing on my wrist costs more than most people earn in years, but it’s a necessary prop in this theater of affluence. “He should be arriving in the next ten minutes.”
My little curse nods, her fingers tracing the stem of her glass, impatient to see how things play out.
I’m gonna play the friendship card rather than the direct assault since I don’t plan on torturing him in the middle of the restaurant, and his schedule for the next few days brings him only to public places. However, I’m not sure how long I can keep Ashford in that apartment without McAllister realizing something’s wrong.
Brynn checks the knife strapped to her thigh, same for the small blade nestled between her breasts, which I plan to personally remove later tonight.
I scan the rest of the room, nothing here, but old money families, and the occasional businessman with his wife. They take their mistresses to another place since this is a very public spot. The elite of Seattle gorging themselves on tiny portions of overpriced food. At least it helps them save on liposuction.
The maitre d’ approaches the front entrance, straightening his posture, which tells me someone important has arrived. I don’t need to fully turn to know it’s McAllister. I just lean back in my chair, putting on a mask of relaxed pleasure, as if this meeting is nothing but a fortunate coincidence rather than the orchestrated trap I’m setting. By now, I know McAllister’s dining preferences, his workout routine, and even the brand of toothpaste he orders online.
Knowledge is power in my world. And power is something I’ve cultivated since before civilization existed.
McAllister enters, flanked by two men. Security, of course. Their jacket cuts reveal the subtle bulge of shoulder holsters. The same false smile on my face is mirrored on his as he plays his role of a beloved public servant, nodding and smiling to everyone around.
It takes him a few moments before his gaze passes over our table, then he nods a couple of times again, and then his expression shifts to genuine surprise.
