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“No, we don’t.” I glowered at Ash.
He glared back. “Nope. All good.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” The man lifted a brow.
Shouts and feet hitting the ground right outside the church doors halted us. I waited for the door to swing back open, soldiers discovering us here.
“Come.” He waved us to follow, hurrying through the abbey and entering a private door. We trailed closely behind as he took us down a hallway and to a back room. “It is better you stay hidden until it calms down.” He nodded for us to enter. “You will be safe here. I promise.”
“We need a way out of the city.” Ash came up behind me. “We also need supplies.”
The reverend dipped his head. “I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” I replied before he rushed us in, shutting the door and locking it behind him.
The room was dark and damp; the only light was from a window high above, the snow moving back in, fluttering against the glass. The tall stone walls and floor contained the chill seeping from outside. Glancing around, it looked like a hodgepodge of unused artwork, a table covered in old books and paperwork, damaged stained glass, some cleaning supplies, and a minuscule bathroom, which Ash probably couldn’t even fit in if the door was shut. A single cot was stuffed in a corner, as if it might be used to sneak away for a nap.
Neither of us spoke, the silence dropping like icicles in the already freezing room. Moving around, I checked out the artifacts, distracting myself from the fact that we were locked in this small room together. Adrenaline and anger were slowing down in my veins while fatigue and pain nipped at the edges. Rubbing at my ribs, I flipped through a book. They were healing, but still a little sore.
Too aware of Ash’s presence behind me, I traveled over to the cot, wanting to get away from him. Sitting down on the squeaky metal, I looked everywhere but at him.
“Ignoring me?” He huffed.
“Trying to.”
His knuckles scrubbed at his thickening scuff, which of course made him look even hotter. Pacing around the room, a few disgruntled noises rose from his throat before he finally spoke.
“I’m sorry, okay?” He moved his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing. “I’m sorry I put you in that kind of danger.”
“I don’t give a shit about me,” I snapped. “I care that you are so blinded by your hate, needing revenge so badly, you’re willing to make it a suicide mission.” I tucked my legs into my chest as a protective barrier. “And that you didn’t tell me this whole time it was the prime minister and this Queen Sonya you were after.” They were different from just regular people who had killed his lovers; this upped the stakes a thousand percent. “Do you know how many soldiers they have guarding them at all times? How easy it would be to get killed before you even got close to them? I know how hard it is to get close to officials like that.”
“And I almost had them!” Ash knocked his fists together. “They were so close.”
“But you missed, and chances are you wouldn’t have hit both in time. And now they know you’re here.” I tucked in tighter into myself. “What did you think would happen if you did kill them? You would’ve been caught and probably hung or shot right there.”
He shrugged.
“You really don’t care?” Sadness gripped my chest, burning my eyes. It hurt. It hurt because I realized how little I mattered to him. That staying alive for me was not something he even considered. “Right.” I looked down, hiding the pain I couldn’t deny. “Got it.”
“Raven…”
“No. I get it,” I replied curtly, wondering how I got here once again. Liking someone who did not feel the same about me. The old wound opened a crevice of anguish. My brain shut down, and I felt exhausted. “I’m tired,” I muttered. Curling up on the cot, I turned away from him.
“Raven?” He said my name again, but I closed my lids and blocked him out, letting all the trauma I had buried deep lull me into a dark numbness.
Chapter 19
Ash
An old oil lamp on the table gave off a tiny bit of heat as the morning grew into late afternoon, the thick clouds darkening the already murky chamber.
I sat in a chair and watched her sleep. The chill in the room rolled her so tightly into a ball that I could barely see her under the wool blanket. The struggle of wanting to stay as far from her as I could fought against an inherent need to curl around her, letting my body heat hers. To feel her against me. Safe. With each passing minute, I felt the latter would win out.
Blowing out, I tipped my head back, scouring my face, my earlier actions playing in my head over and over, knotting up my chest and pissing me off more. I wasn’t supposed to feel guilty. To be sick over what I did. It was the whole point of why I was in Romania.
Revenge.
Except right now, I not only failed in that, but I put her in harm’s way. Andthatwas what was digging into my abdomen. If something had happened to her, her life taken in front of me because I was so hellbent on getting Sonya and Iain… she’d be another person I’d lose because of those two.
