Page 126 of Outcast’s Vow

Baptiste was supposed to be my husband. My protector. He promised he wouldn’t cheat. He knew what the pain of my past meant to me. And yet he went along and did it.

I don’t know. I don’t know what he’s potentially done. Part of me wishes he didn’t do it, and part of me believes that every man eventually does.

I think it’s his silence. That’s what seals the deal.

His silence is what damns my husband.

I could beat myself up all night. I dared to dream Baptiste would be different, that he was not like the other men who've tried dating me simply because of who my father is. Baptiste promised he wasn’t like them.

He promised he wasn't a cheater.

Well, it turns out he is just like Ethan.

Baptiste put his career and his fun little secret society and his cock ahead of me.

Fuck the Castaways.

I wish I had never been part of it. I wish I hadn't been born into it. I wish I could live a life totally ignorant of the Order.

A tear runs down my cheek, and then another. The salt stings my hands as the tears fall, dropping onto the worn library carpet like rain.

I thought he was perfect. I thought he was mine. I thought I could let my barriers down for this man.

What’s next for me now? I don’t have a clue.

Baptiste will have to come home at some point. He’ll have to explain himself to me. And I’d be expected to take it on the chin like any good Castaways wife. God knows I can’t let my father down, no matter how much I hate the Order.

My hands, and my mind, start to numb.

I'm stripped of any choices. I have no way out. Divorce is not an option, not in the Castaways. Not after the Chase. I'll forever be trapped to a man who's stamped on my dignity, forced to live in a prison of marriage. It’s even worse than my worst nightmares.

My phone rings, the sudden noise jolting through the quiet library and through my grieving body.

It might be him. I won’t answer if it is.

But another name flashes on my phone screen.

Father.

What could this mean?

I accept the call.

“Sylvie?”

His voice is even darker than usual. Even colder. Even more authoritative.

“Yes, Father?”

“I need to see you,” he says. “Now.”

“Now? It’s not a good time…”

“Cancel everything. Come to my office. I need you to be here in the next thirty minutes.”

48

SYLVIE