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She doesn’t react to any of it.
But she never stops crying.
Silent tears continuously roll down her cheeks. And they make me feel…
They make me feel.
Not trusting King not to shoot me in the back, I reach into the glove box and take out my pistol.
Val’s pretty brown eyes are staring right at it, but I’m not sure she sees it. Not sure if she realizes now that this is my vehicle. Just like the one in Vegas. Just like the driver in Vegas. Just like the witnesses at our wedding.
I’ve been building this world out of smoke and mirrors. Carefully. Meticulously. All for this. For what just happened.
Because I had to.
Because I need this.
And I won’t apologize for it.
* * *
“Valentine.”She flinches a little at my voice but doesn’t reply.
We’re two hours into the six-hour drive to Chicago, and she hasn’t said a thing. She hasn’t adjusted the air. Hasn’t asked me to play music. Hasn’t said anything.
I knew she’d be upset.
I have enough sense to know that this was all going to blow up in my face, and I braced myself for it.
Figured she’d yell and scream and probably try to hit me. Thought I’d have to carry her out of King’s house, kicking and screaming, while fending her brother off as he tried to wrestle her back.
But none of that happened.
She just shut down. And King… Fucking King just let me take her.
The outcome is exactly what I needed, because I need Valentine in order to leverage King’s, and therefore Nero’s, cooperation.
But King just let me take her. He let me walk his sister out of the house.
Val was standing there, fucking crying, and he did nothing.
But I guess there isn’t much he could do, because King knows I’m right. He knows that he owes me one. Because when his wife ran away, straight into the path of a human trafficker, I stepped in and protected her.
Val’s body trembles with a shiver, so I adjust the temperature.
“Do you want your seat warmer on?”
She doesn’t answer. Of course she doesn’t.
Val trembles again, so I press the button to warm the leather seats anyway. She can turn it off if she wants.
Still no reaction.
I let out a sigh, then turn my own seat on low. Lounging in bed all day yesterday, followed by flying commercial today, is making my back tight.
The day we met, I joked with Val about not being that old. But I’ve lived hard. I’ve fought for my life more than once. Killed way more times than that. And taken more hits to my person than I could ever count. And today, my body is reminding me.
Movement in the passenger seat pulls my attention to Val.
