Page 71 of The Silversmith

“When have you ever given a shit what that old bastard has to say?”

“I know her.” The words snapped out of him. “And though I wish she could turn a blind eye and say fuck it all, she’s not me. She could never find peace or freedom knowing she left thousands of innocent people to die.” I heard the forceful thump of his glass on the table and the footsteps that followed.

“If peace is what you’ve found, Smyth, then I sure as hell don’t want it.” There was a long pause before Damond continued. “So you’re going to surrender her to Elias Winterton?”

“She’s not a fucking pawn to be surrendered.”

“Smyth,” Damond sighed. “Man, you’ve got to—”

“Enough!” Gavin snapped, low and lethal. “I’ve made my intentions clear: to protect her and teach her. She’s safe with me, she knows it. For now, that will have to be enough.”

I felt nauseous at the implication that there was more.

“Smyth.” Damond’s voice leveled out. “What about—how do you know she’s safe from Molochai?”

“He doesn’t know she exists yet.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because if he knew, he would have come for her already.”

“What are you going to do when he does?” Damond asked, sounding grim. “What are you going to do if he tries to use—”

“Over my dead fucking body.”

I turned away from the door, having heard enough.

Secrets. I kept none from him, but he kept plenty from me. Or at least half-truths that left me wondering if his touch, care, and protection were nothing but a dream or a means to an end. He clearly felt something for me. Wanted me, even if just for sex.

Yet, he had reason enough not to act on it. Gavin Smyth was beholden to no one, certainly not the Wintertons or Simeon. He could take what he wanted, and he said he did exactly that.

I sighed, frustrated as I descended the stairs. It was dark, but I could see the back room was empty, the store room door closed. I would need to go through the bar to the kitchen for a glass of water, which I resented because I was still in my nightgown.

As I turned toward the main room, a familiar woman, loud and full of life, squealed from behind me.

“Ary! What are you doing?” Gemma threw her long arms around my neck and squeezed. Her breath was both sweet and sour from hours of drinking.

I winced but put up with it, unable to suppress a laugh. At least she was sober enough to stand and speak clearly.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“I’m just getting some water.” I leaned back and held her elbows, testing her steadiness, just in case.

“Hmm, well, don’t go through the bar, it’s closing up. Go through that door there.” She pointed to the door on our left. “Go on, quench your thirst and get to bed before you’re seen. The last thing we need is you stealing the heart of some drunken lunatic before Elias can give you a proper ring.”

My stomach churned at the reminder.

“What about you?” I forced a laugh. “Are you coming to bed?”

She clicked her tongue and bit her lip, smiling. “Eventually. I was using the bathroom and am now on my way to spend some time with Finn.”

“Ah.” I smiled. She deserved it. “Good. Be happy.”

Her bright grin widened. She kissed my cheek. “Good night, dear.”

She left, and I made my way to the kitchen. Once I entered, I looked around. It was still dark, but I could see enough to search for glasses. The small kitchen was long and thin. A stove, sink, wood-fire oven on one end, a door on the other, and lined with cabinets between.

I drew some water from the sink and let the drink soothe my dry, scratchy throat.