“In the barn.”
I wait for the wince, the grimace, but it never comes.
“I want to come.”
“Wren–”
“No!” She snaps, cutting me off. “I let you push me out that room earlier. I let you do that but you want me here, you have to let me in. I’m not going to fucking sit in this little cage you’ve built for me, I’m in or I am not.”
“It’s not that simple.” I growl.
“Then make it that simple!”
She sighs, stepping up to me, her eyes clouded and misty, tears still making her eyes watery, “I fell in love with you. You. Despite the shit you do and the blood on your hands. You fucking kidnapped me and yet I still fucking love you. How fucked up is that!” she laughs, “You’re a twisted, ruthless motherfucker, Alexander and I’m still fucking here.”
I swallow.
“Let me fucking in. Teach me.”
This was a bad fucking idea.
“Wren,” I try once more.
“Alexander.”
She wasn’t budging. There was no movement, no negotiation. Anyone else, there wouldn’t even be the time of day, her, I’ll give her everything. What was it Kingston said? Weak spots. Like showing a predator your jugular.
There was no doubt she was that one spot that’ll kill me before anything else and everyone knows it.
How can I protect her if she’s there with me? My enemies would use her to hurt me, would take her and ruin her and break her just to get to me.
“I can’t be a pawn anymore,” she says so quietly, “I can’t do nothing anymore.”
I drop my head, “Fine.”
There’s no celebration, no eager thanks because she may as well have signed our death certificates.
“After tonight, we’re moving,” I tell her, handing her the clothes.
She puts them on.
“Where?”
“I take it you’re opposed to moving to a safe house?” I try.
She glares at me.
“The penthouse in the city.”
“Okay.”
When she is dressed, she pulls her wet hair into a ponytail, her hands shaking but she’s pushed all that grief behind a mask of determination. She wants Valentine’s destruction and she’ll do anything to get it.
“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her, sliding my hand into hers.
“Yes, I do.”
She doesn’t look at me, but her hand holds mine in a tight grip, palm sweaty and a tremble in her fingers. She’s afraid.