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“She sounds like a spirited little girl.”
“She is. She’s the troublemaker, the adventurer. She has to right the wrongs of the world. My son is more cautious, he’s the protector.”
My ovaries ache listening to him talk about his children. That’s when I realize he isn’t being kind by sharing facts about his children with me. He’s rubbing it in that he gets to be with his children, while I will never see my child again. It’s torture.
I pull the jacket tighter around me like a hug. Even though the jacket belongs to Langston, it still makes me feel comforted.
I feel Langston’s eyes on me—he’s watching me, trying to read my emotions in the dark. He doesn’t have to look at me to feel my torment—it’s in the air between us.
He’s going to say something else cruel and heartless. Right now, I can’t handle it.
“Don’t. I know I’ve hurt you, and you’ve hurt me, but just don’t. I can’t right now,” I say.
He doesn’t speak. I close my eyes to try and block out the pain.
I feel a brush against my hand, and then his fingers wrap around mine until he’s holding my hand, comforting me.
“Why are you being nice?” I whisper, my eyes still closed. I’m too afraid if I open them that the tears will spill, and he’ll see how weak I am.
“Seeing my kids reminded me of the kids we once were before everything got so damn complicated. Sometimes I wish we could go back to that time and change everything.”
I open my eyes. “Me too.”
He nods.
“Do you regret setting me up in the game on the yacht, knowing that I killed Waylon?” he asks.
I frown; my answer could reveal too much. It could lead to more questions I’m not ready to answer.
“Do you regret killing Waylon?” I ask, stalling.
His eyes dance left then right across my face, trying to read what I’m not telling him.
“No, I don’t regret killing Waylon,” he answers.
“I don’t regret setting you up, even though I knew the outcome.”
He blinks rapidly, like I surprised him.
I guess I did.
“What now?” I ask. We are still holding hands like old friends instead of the enemies we have become.
“We have one month to figure that out.”
One month—Langston doesn’t have to spell it out for me. We have one month to learn each other’s secrets, and then he’ll kill me. He’ll kill me for whatever sin he thinks I committed against him in the past. And even if he learns that wasn’t true, he can’t let me live for what I did to Siren.
And I can’t let him live for what he did to Waylon.
I yawn. I don’t know what time it is, but based on how I feel, I’m guessing the middle of the night.
“Sleep, huntress. Tomorrow we fight. Tonight we sleep.”
I sink down onto the pillow, knowing that Langston will sleep next to me. I shouldn’t feel safe next to him, and yet it’s the safest place I could be. He won’t kill me until our month together is up. Until then, he’ll protect me from every danger.
I drift to sleep, knowing it’s the most peaceful sleep I’ll be able to get.
Until a loud bang wakes me up.
