Page 80 of When the Duke Met His Match

Once her back hit the far wall, she began to wonder if she deserved every moment of her distress. It was painful, not knowing if she or Theophilus would make it out alive despite their promises to one another. She had been a rebel once, and while she began to regret it the moment he showed his commitment to her, she couldn’t take it back.

She had been a participant in the French rebellion, and it was a past she couldn’t escape.

A figure emerged from her right, and Odette froze. She gasped quietly at the sight of Pierre with his sword drawn. Blood smeared against the corner of his mouth, but he looked exhilarated.

Heart racing, she tried to appeal to him. “Pierre, stop this madness!”

Her shout caught his attention, and he cocked a brow as he approached her. Tucked behind an ornate column and out of sight from the rest of the fight, his gaze narrowed. He scoffed at her. “So, it was you. I had the feeling.”

Odette could hardly believe her eyes. Standing before her was a man she had known and trusted. Once a young boy she had spent many days with, he’d turned into a monster fueled by the prospect of spilling blood and exacting his revenge on the English crown.

Although she may not have reciprocated his feelings, she had once held him in high esteem. She envisioned a future where they would both expand and improve upon their childhood experiences. However, it appeared they both became fixated on reclaiming what they believed was rightfully theirs.

She fought against the raging emotions inside her chest and the waver in her voice. “Please, I’m begging you.”

Pierre only wiped at his mouth and shook his head.

Odette hated watching him become something too fearsome to change, a man unwilling to set aside his grief and try to move forward. She knew she would’ve been just like him if she hadn’t seen things differently if she didn’t have Theophilus to encourage her beyond the life of a rebel and traitor.

She couldn’t push away the emotion that ebbed into her words. “Stop this while you still can. Do it for me, Pierre.”

He chuckled darkly and took another step forward, which forced her to press into the stone wall. “Why would I do anything for you, Odette?”

Sucking in a deep breath, her whole body shook no matter how hard she tried to fight it. “Because we were friends once. We spent our young lives together.”

Pain moved across his eyes. “Yet, I wasn’t enough for you. Now, this is bigger than you. It’s far more complex than you could begin to understand.”

Unable to form words, she could only focus on the blade in his grasp, afraid of what he might do with it.

Pierre’s face hardened, and he pointed where the king had been before the room was sent into complete disarray. “You know what these people cost us, what they took from us—our loved ones, our land, and our country. You had aligned with our cause once. Surely you could see the English crown for what they really are again.”

Odette shook her head, deeply ashamed of the role she once played. “It isn’t worth it.” she murmured, eyes stinging with emotions.

While she hoped he would see some sense in her words, it seemed to do the opposite.

Pierre’s expression fell before he laughed bitterly in her face. “You must be aware by now that one of your so-called friends gave you up, right?”

Furrowing her brows at him, she tried to understand.

Surely aware of her confusion, his cold look smoothed into one of harsh amusement. “That’s right, even your own accomplices squealed on you because they knew you would crack under the pressure of our plans eventually. In fact, it was Zack who organized it. He hired someone to give up your name to the crown, which got them off our trail for a time and got you out of our hair. It seems he was right. And here you are, begging while you still have the chance.”

The room seemed to spin as she grappled with the knowledge. Theophilus never told her who gave her up. She thought he was bluffing when he said it had been one of her own, but he had been right.

She couldn't trust any of them if she supported them once and found a friend in Pierre.

“Killing the king will be the grand finale of my efforts,” he jeered, looking more and more, unlike the man she once knew. “How does it feel to know all your work and contributions amounted to nothing? The men who willingly accepted your aid once had used and discarded you. Your resistance to seeking revenge will leave you with nothing.”

“It was a mistake to believe in any of you,” she muttered, shaken by the idea of her hand in everything. She regretted throwing her own comfortable life away to fight alongside those willing to give her up to further their hidden cause. “I thought I was helping my country by aiding you and the others, but I was only hurting myself as you are doing now and will continue to until you are inevitably caught.”

Pierre offered her nothing more than his disdain, but a pained groan caught her attention.

Not far from her place, she spotted Theophilus on the floor, legs sprawled out. He was off to the side enough that the others ignored him, surely assuming he was already dead.

Her skin grew cold at the thought, and her heart stilled. He was clearly injured, but she needed to check what had happened.

Forgetting about Pierre, she hurried over to her fallen lover and found his eyes closed. Blood seeped from a thin cut on his left leg, and when she placed her palm against the back of his head, it felt warm and slick.

Her pulse thundered in her ears, and she panicked at his side.