Page 143 of Twisting Beauty

Or to me.

42

LIATH

The next morning, in the back seat of the town car, Lorcan sat in the middle, close enough that his thigh brushed mine.

We said nothing as Blackwood town blurred past the tinted windows, a stream of gray stone walls and green trees that barely registered, my focus splintered between the warmth of his thigh against mine and the suffocating silence we both clung to.

The only thing we had agreed on was that silence was safest. That no one could ever know about us. Silence was the cover. Silence was the rule.

I hoped to God I hadn’t just lit my own life on fire by choosing him.

Christ, if it was Deargán’s camera, then he’d seen too much.

The way I had come apart for Lorcan. The way I’d begged him. The way Lorcan had uttered my real name into my mouth.

Anger burned sharp and sudden in my chest, cutting clean through the panic.

Deargán had crossed a line. He had not planted that camera for the mission. My bedroom was not the battleground.

Which means he had planted it for himself.

The only question was, what would he do about what he saw? What he heard?

I had called his burner twice this morning before getting in the car. It was disconnected. Unease crawled under my skin, tightening my chest, making my fingers restless in my lap.

I had to get to him before he escalated.

Before he did something that could not be undone.

Telling him to stand down would not be enough. He would not leave Lorcan alone unless I gave him a reason to.

I needed to reframe this. Make Lorcan something other than a threat. Make him useful enough that even Deargán, vicious and possessive and watching me from the shadows, would have to weigh the cost.

But how?

The problem sat heavy in my chest, unsolved, tightening with every mile that this damned car carried me farther away in the wrong direction.

To get to Deargán, I needed to get out of this car. I needed to get away from Lorcan.

Fuck, he’d practically shadowed me since we’d found the camera yesterday morning, refusing to let me sleep in my own bed. There was no way he was letting me out of his sight at Ravenwood.

How did I get away from him?

“Gray.”

His voice cut through my thoughts.

“What?” I turned to him and clocked too late from his scowl that he had been calling me for some time.

Something dark coiled behind his eyes. “Are you thinking about him while you’re sitting here with me?”

“No,” I said too quickly.

His scowl twisted further, my lie sitting heavy between us, and I braced for the consequences.

His hand slid onto my thigh, pushing the hem of my skirt right up against the crease.