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“Doesn’t she have her own?”
“Yeah, she does.”
“Then why—” Perceptive as always, he stops abruptly. “Shit. Is she okay? Are you?”
“Hunky-fucking-dory.” He doesn’t say anything to my acerbic reply.
We both remain quiet. Leo probably trying to figure out what to say like he always does. Always operating with the mentality that everything will be okay.
Flashes of our conversation at Cassie’s hospital bedside roll through my mind along with Benedict’s words.
And the conclusion right now is the same as it was six months ago.
Nothing is okay.
Neither will it be, not until comeuppance is had and graves are dug.
I’m done following rules. I’m done feeding every other fucker’s dreams. I’m done being a motherfucking pawn.
I’m the king, and it’s about time I checkmate this shit.
“Change of plans. We’re going north.”
Opening my MacBook, I type a quick group message to Casper and Freddie, including Leo on it.
Christopher: Time to hunt.
Chapter 26
Arabella
The phone feels so heavy and hot in my hands. I can’t stop looking at the photo, and at the same time I can’t bear to see it one more time. I want to hate Christopher for being so cruel as to keep it from me, and I want to hate him for being so cruel as to show it to me.
He’s given my pain a face. An existence.
God, I want to hate him.
I want to kill him.
I want to cut him open and watch him bleed.
But the want is pointless when my need for him trumps it all. My love for him goes beyond all this hate and misery. It’s tangled and woven with my grief, and although I needed time and space to crack and crumble, I need him to help me fix this. Because looking at this photo of our little girl in his hand…I feel the soul-searing pain his love has endured.
It’s my pain too.
Our pain.
And as such, we are the only ones that can make it just.
The way his thumb is blurred over her tiny leg, stroking and caring, it makes my heart squeeze painfully with relief and sorrow that he was there to comfort her and that I didn’t get to.
The knock at the door has me burrowing deeper onto the duvet, pressing the phone tighter to my chest.
A crack of light cuts through the carpet with Christopher’s unmistakable shadow silhouetting the floor. My heart hammers in my chest, pounding hot lava through my body, as his silent footsteps come closer. The crack of light gets thinner as the door behind him closes with the draft from the open windows, until darkness reigns again.
“Belles…” Murmuring as he sits at the foot of the bed, his hand squeezes one of my feet, nail raking the arch. I can’t help the whimper that escapes me as my skin pimples in a heated wave.
Time to hunt.
