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“Of course she’d lie to you about it,” Benedict spits. “Of course she’d tell you it didn’t happen. Just look at her. Does she look like a woman who’s been held captive?”
She ignores him this time and whips around to face me. “Ilarion, I promise you, it’s not true. He did treat me well. But I was still a prisoner. I couldn’t leave or take calls. He would come and talk to me every day and I…I listened, but—”
“Enough.” I hold up my hand.
She immediately falls silent. Her eyes churn with fear. She’s not scared for her life, though.
No, she’s scared of losingme.
I can hear the promise I made to her mother echoing in the back of my head. I swore that oath in good faith, and I’m not about to renege on it now. Not just because I’ve discovered I’m more human than I once believed.
Tears cascade down her cheeks as Celine waits for me to say something. I have one eye on Benedict, who’s still smiling maniacally, convinced that he’s managed to drive a wedge between us.
He’ll be very disappointed in just a moment.
“I believe you, Celine,” I tell her.
Her face twists with relief at the same time that Benedict’s face flushes with anger. “You’re lying.”
I shake my head and look him in the eye. “Do I look like I’m lying?” I laugh. “You know why I asked Celine to marry me? Because I knew that I could trust her.”
His eyes glow like tiny embers. His sweaty hand grips and re-grips the gun again and again, like all his problems will be solved if he just holds it right.
“You want to believe it,” he growls. “That’s why—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I believe Celine. In any case, I can rest easy knowing that after a woman has been with me, she’s not about to settle for anything less. And you, Benedict Bellasio, are far less.”
His teeth grind together. “You motherfucker—”
He jabs his gun at me just as Celine lunges toward him to stay between us. I’m lunging along right after her, roaring, ready to drag her to the ground and blanket myself on top of, when all of the sudden—
BANG!
The gunshot rings through the air.
Celine falls against my chest, a horrified gasp caught in her throat. I look up, expecting to see the smoking tip of Benedict’s gun, the last thing I’ll see before he ends my life.
But it’s not there.
His hand is empty. His weapon is on the floor.
He’s not the one who fired the shot.
He’s not even standing anymore. He’s sprawled on the floor, groaning incoherently, while blood wells between the fingers clasped to the meat of his shoulder. And above him, standing framed in the doorway with her jaw wide open and a pistol clutched inexpertly in both hands…
Taylor.
44
TAYLOR
For a moment, nothing moves. Not space, not time, not the beating of my heart.
I hear my sister’s voice. I see her standing in front of Ilarion, like a soldier ready to lay her life on the line. I see a skeletally thin, dark-haired man with his back to me and his gun pointed at Celine.
And I act on instinct.
I have no real idea how to handle a gun, but Mila gave me a quick lesson while we were waiting out in the forest. She hadn’t actually expected me to use it. Hell, I never actually expected to use it, but when chaos descended down on us, I couldn’t just sit in the armored car and wait for someone to bring me my sister.
