Page 167 of Outcast’s Vow

“An Elder?”

“I know you’re angry with them…”

“You’re too good for them, Baptiste. And they’re falling apart.”

“It’s up to you, Sylvie. I won’t have anything to do with the Castaways if you don’t want it. They asked me to help, but I can say no.”

“You’d really do that? Even though being an Elder is everything you’ve worked for? You’d walk away for me?”

“Haven’t I proved enough that you are the most important thing in my life, woman?”

Sylvie softly smiles. With the very tip of her finger, she strokes the edge of her name inked in my flesh. She’s thinking about it, and she thinks long and hard.

And I wait for her answer. Because I will do whatever she wills.

“They asked you to help with the Masked Killer,” she finally says, “so you should. You need to stop him. I may despise the Order and their constant... taking from us, but you need to do this if it’s going to save our future. On the inside, you can protect us. You’ll have leverage. You need to become an Elder.”

67

SYLVIE

I walk through the front door of the penthouse to the sound of soft music greeting my ears.

“What’s this?” I ask my husband as I enter.

I’ve been at university all day today, finishing up the semester. One more to do, and then I’ll be done with Social Entrepreneurship. And then I’ll be launched into the real world.

I even got a surprise phone call from Eleanor Whitmore yesterday. Her dulcet tones echoed as I answered the call to the anonymous number. There was no need for her to even introduce herself.

“My eyes and ears have told me you’re close to completing your studies, Mrs. Tremblay.”

“Your eyes and ears are correct,” I replied.

“Hm. When you’re done, give me a call. I have a few friends in the charity space. A female-led organization investing in technology to improve the lives of disadvantaged women. They’re looking at having someone with a certain joie de vivre join their team, which, after our little encounter, I believe you possess. I could connect you with the founders.”

“That,” I whispered, “would be pretty damn cool.”

“Yes, indeed.”

I will take her up on her offer.

But no matter what happens, I feel free. More than at any other time in my life.

And there is one man solely responsible for that feeling, and he’s currently standing in the middle of the penthouse living room waiting for me to walk through the door.

It has been a week since New Orleans, and since then, everything’s changed with the Castaways. The Order has spiraled into emergency mode. Father has locked down with the other Elders. They are intent on finding this Masked Killer. And Baptiste is now involved. The world is still not safe, but inside the walls of our penthouse, with him, I am.

But he’s not doing it for them. He’s doing it for me.

He’s my man. And he loves me. And, Lord knows, I have enough proof that he’ll do anything for me.

Baptiste has been home today while I’ve been on campus, and he has transformed the penthouse into something out of a romance fairytale. Candles flicker. I smell vanilla in the air.

And my husband is wearing a soft linen shirt, with tousled hair and a cheeky smile on his lips. In front of him, resting against his body and steadied by his hands, is a large rectangle about the size of a table, covered in a long white sheet.

“What are you doing, Baptiste?” I ask him, gleefully suspicious.

“I have a surprise for you, Highness.”