The Fury sent her a flat look. “No. Get behind me.”
Hah. All these brothers were the same! Stubborn to a fault. “Arm me and I’ll get behind you!”
His jaw ticked, but he still pulled a dagger from his pocket and offered it to her. Just how many daggers did he have on him?
She snatched the thing from him and moved behind him, her eyes narrowing on the “dagger” when it felt odd to the touch. She turned the thing over in her hand, running her thumb along the edge. The edge that was, notably, not an edge at all. “What’s this thing? Did you give me...” her voice pitched in belated disbelief at the man, “a wooden dagger?”
“Drake would kill me if you got hurt.”
“Drake can’t kill you! You have a no killing code!”
She sensed him pause.
“Well,” she pressed.
“He would make it so I’d wish death would come,” he corrected.
Violet opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked down at the wooden dagger. She supposed that was, in its own way, begrudgingly sweet, and something warm and unexpected stirred in her chest at this fierce, unquestioned protection. This was the loyalty of these brothers, and what she had always believed brothers were meant to offer and always yearned forfrom her own brother. True family. And this man guarded her as though she belonged among them.
She turned her back to him without thinking, thrusting the ridiculous wooden dagger outward, guarding his back.
Violet held her position, every nerve alight, the disarray of the warehouse rushing around her in disjointed bursts. Shouts swallowed by the hollow place, the pounding of boots, the crash of something through glass. She did not look back, but she did sense a scuffle. A few seconds later, something struck the floor with a dull, final thud.
“Come,” Dagger said close behind her, stepping around her. “Let’s go.”
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, not surprised to see the men unconscious on the floor. “Where are we going? To your lair?”
“Lair?” He cast her a quick glance. “Yes.”
“Will Drake be there yet?” she couldn’t help asking.
“That depends.”
“On what?” Violet asked.
“Whether they got out safely.”
Reginald.
She hadn’t seen her brother in the crowd, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been there. Her eyes were on Drake at the time. His brother did not slow. He cut through the passages without hesitation, turning corners before she thought to question them, as if the route were etched into his bones. They weren’t heading to the front of the warehouse. Violet was pretty sure this was the back. Or perhaps they had been at the back but were advancing toward the front.
Everything appeared skewed to her.
She kept close, skirts gathered in one hand, the ridiculous wooden dagger still clutched in the other, her pulse only just beginning to slow.
They arrived at a door at the back of the corridor, its hinges protesting softly as he wrenched it open. Cold air rushed in at once, carrying the salty bite of the sea. Violet stumbled over the threshold and into the drizzling night, darkness enclosing them, so relieved she nearly fell to the ground and gave it a grateful kiss. All that was missing was her brute.
She lifted her face up to the sky, welcoming the prickling drops.
“Come.”
Violet glanced at Drake’s brother and nodded.
They had gone no more than a few paces when a voice cut through the night.
“Evangeline.”
Violet cringed.
