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Then he whirled toward me.

“Léonie! Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Hugo was stumbling toward Mano, checking his throat for a pulse.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Étienne slammed his fist into the wall as he looked at the bloody, broken bodies of Placidie and Réjean.

“I enabled this. I should have foreseen it. I swear to all the ancestors, Léonie, that I thought your family would be furious at me. That they’d want to protect you.”

“That was foolish,” I said. “I could have told you they didn’t have the regard for me you thought. If you’d only asked me.”

He pulled me into his arms.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. All this fucking bullshit about our family honor—it went too far. No more. No more. We aren’t doing this shit anymore.”

He smelled wild but comforting, his strong arms around me and I almost melted into them. . .

Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t been on edge, if some deep mother-instinct hadn’t made me sensitive to sounds.

But I heard, from somewhere in the other wing. . . a thump. Like a door opening and shutting.

And some primal sense of danger prickled my skin and I turned and raced from the room.

As soon as I moved my husband was already running too, his speed outpacing mine as we ran toward Ciel’s room.

There were screams from somewhere in the house. The sound of a revving engine.

But my baby had been safely asleep—Réjean hadn’t been in here—Placidie was dead⁠—

And then, his room—the door—stumbling inside to find⁠—

The crib was empty.

CHAPTER 24

Léonie

Inever knew how I decided which way to go. There were so many entrances and exits to the great house.

Where had they taken him

Some sixth primal sense sent me east.

Some primal sense kept me quiet as my feet raced, my mind pulsing with sheer animal panic.

There was only my need to find him. Protect him.

And then—shadowed in the easternmost door was Faustine.

And she had my baby.

In her hand was a car seat and she was hurrying down the path to where the gate stood wide open, with an SUV running in front of it.

And I realized then that more than one person knew exactly what Étienne felt for his family.

And more than one person’s hopes had been dashed at his reaction to my death.