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Prologue
Fielder
Watching Rosalind Sweeney leave Septem Stellae might be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It takes everything in me to let her leave, to stay put and let her get on the bus to the ferry. All I really want is to wrap her up in my arms and make sure nothing hurts her ever again.
I hate that I’m the one that did this. That I’m the one that turned her into an emotionless robot for the last two weeks. That I’m the one that used her most closely guarded secret against her.
I’m not the only one that hates it.
“This is fucking bullshit,” Gideon mutters from next to me.
He hasn’t forgiven me. None of them have. I can’t blame them either. I kept this from them, kept that I was still digging, still searching for a way to get Rosalind out of Septem Stellae and off the island. Not that I want her to leave. Fuck, Ineverwanted her to leave.
But I didn’t have a choice. They should know that.
She wasn’t safe here. She will never be safe anywhere near us.
They made the threat on her life clear to me, and no matter how careful we were or how many protections and redundancies we put in place to make her safe, it would never be enough.
Now that she’s gone, we can keep an eye on her from a distance, make sure she stays safe, and eventually, hopefully, reach out to her again and see if she’s forgiven us. Try to go somewhere with this fucked up relationship we’ve started.
I snort at the thought.
There is no way in hell Rosalind Sweeney is ever going to forgive me for what I’ve done. My stomach clenches uncomfortably at that realization. I force it aside. I’d rather have her be safe, to not have another life bloodying my hands, then to have her forgiveness.
That she walked out of here alive is all I fucking need.
The memory of Rosalind on my lap panting and moaning as I fingered her hits hard and fast. God, she’d been perfect. Her light brown hair tumbling around her shoulders, her eyes and cheeks red first from crying, and then arousal, the roll of her hips against me. I’d wanted nothing more than to thrust my dick so fucking deep inside her, but taking what I wanted from her, using her that way before breaking her? That would have been truly unforgivable.
No, I’m an asshole, but not that much of an asshole. So getting her off, seeing what she looks like when she reaches her peak and tumbles off while denying myself the same pleasure had been as close as I’ll ever get to fucking Rosalind Sweeney.
My hand flexes at my side. Weeks later, I can still feel her, feel how wet she was for me, the way she clamped down on my fingers. I would give almost anything to feel that again. Almost anything to feel her do the same to my cock.
But I wouldn’t give her life for that, which is why she has to go.
As Rosalind throws her rolling suitcase into the luggage compartment, my phone vibrates in my inner jacket pocket. Knowing who it is already, I ignore it, even when Ezra glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “You gonna get that?”
I shake my head, lips thin. “Nope.”
“What the bloody hell is he doing?” Hardin growls, and for a moment I think he means me, but when I look back at the bus, I see fucking Cohen Faulkner standing next to Rosalind. Next tomyfucking girl.
I hate that he’s anywhere near her. He’s been sniffing around her skirts all year and it took enormous willpower to not hex him to within an inch of his life to get him to stay the fuck away from her.
But as much as it pains me to admit it, he’d been one of a handful of people who’d taken it upon themselves to help her. To protect her. To be her friend. And I didn’t want to take that from her.
Even if I hate the casual way the handsome bastard touches her. The way sheletshim touch her.
I watch now as she wraps her arms around him in a hug, pressing every inch of her luscious body to his while he holds her closer. His mouth gets far too close to her neck for that to be a simple, friendly hug. No, my bet is when he steps away from her, he’s going to have one massive hard-on, if he’s not already grinding it into her belly.
“I’m going to kill him,” Hardin mutters. “Rip his fucking hands from his body for touching what doesn’t belong to him, and then kill him. I can do that, right?”
I shake my head and run a weary hand down my face. “No. We don’t need unnecessary bloodshed.”
“Who says it would be unnecessary?” Gideon’s voice is hard, furious.
Fuck. EvenEzra’sface is a mask of murderous rage. And he’s the most levelheaded of all of us.
We all watch as Rosalind pulls back and Cohen’s hands move up to cup her face, saying something that has her nodding. Both of their faces are serious, and I’m dying to know what the hell they’re talking about.
