The buzzer on the security panel goes off. “Nathan,” Adriel says, holding up the security feed on his phone. “And Matteo is behind him.” He’s barely spoken the words when the wind gusts, splattering droplets of cold water all over us. Adriel curses, nearly in the line of fire even half inside the castle, while I yelp with shock, only to have Kayden reach out, shackle my arm, and pull me farther onto the porch, his touch fire and ice. I hate that combination. Just as I hate the wall I feel between us, holding us back, dividing us.
“I’m going to meet Nathan and Matteo,” Adriel growls, disappearing into the castle without shutting the door.
“Let’s go inside,” Kayden says.
“Go ahead,” I say. “I think I’m going to need a minute.”
“I need to deal with Carlo.”
“I’ll be right in.”
He looks like he wants to insist, but his grip on my arm slowly eases, his hand falling away, and I decide the warmth of his touch did do much to wipe away the cold, because now I am even colder. And then he is gone, walking inside the castle, the door shutting behind him. And I’m alone, hugging myself against the rain and storm that now suffocates me, wishing I could just grab him, kiss him, and explain my fears. But he’s right. It’s not that simple, no matter how much we both want it to be.
I turn and face the front lawn again, staring into the downpour he’d claimed washes away the blood. But in its depths I see my father’s death, and I’m certain that my continual return to that image is my mind warning me. The past is connected to the present, but how? Perhaps it’s not a direct link. Perhaps the connection is my mind reminding me of the choices my father made that I should not imitate.
The reality is that had my mother and I not hidden in the closet the day he was murdered, we might well be dead, too. Another reality is that my father trained me for a reason, not as a hobby. He knew that the day when he died could come. He knew his life connecting to ours came with risks for us, not just him.
It’s time to face what I’ve been suppressing—and while my mind resists, there is one part I can accept, if not embrace. If I’m to be honest with myself, no matter what happens with the necklace, and in spite of Kayden’s confidence in Evil Eye, I know in my heart that Garner Neuville will come for me, like my father knew someone would come for him. And it will be the kind of mess you can’t clean up. I can’t let that happen.
But in the midst of that rain, I see something else. I see myself doing calisthenics in another downpour, my father yelling at me to keep going, to never give up. If I run from Neuville, if I hide, who am I kidding? If he knows that I’m with Kayden—and he will, if he doesn’t already—he will use him and everyone around him to draw me out. I can’t hide. That’s where my instinct to go to Paris came from. I can’t hide, so I have to be the aggressor. We have to be the aggressors and end this. And that starts with making sure Kayden understands that Evil Eye won’t stop the insanity of Garner Neuville when he feels personally wounded. There are three ways I think he might approach this, all of which Kayden needs to hear before that meeting.
I open the door and step inside, shutting out the cold rain, but this part of the castle is
always chilly—perhaps because this is where Enzo died. I shiver with that thought, crossing the foyer and starting the long climb to the Center Tower, my destination the dungeon-style arched wooden doorway directly in front of me and the entrance to the store where I’m to meet Kayden. Each of my steps is driven by my need to find him, tear down the walls between us, and make sure he knows the war he wants to prevent is already here.
I’m a dozen steps from my destination when the heavy door begins to lift, and I’m jumpier than I thought, because I reach for the weapon inside the purse that I don’t have with me. Irritated that I haven’t opted for a bra or ankle strap, I vow to remedy that right as Marabella appears at the top of the landing, her graying dark hair pinned at the nape, her robust figure highlighted by a dress with big red roses on it.
She grins at the sight of me, her cheeks even fuller with that smile, then covers her mouth as if she knows she shouldn’t be happy in the midst of the Underground events obviously going on. Without shutting the door behind her, she rushes toward me, meeting me three steps from the top. “I know there is serious business happening now,” she says the instant we’ve stopped in front of each other, “but did you hear about Giada?”
“I did,” I say, and her joy is as palpable as was Kayden’s dark mood, right along with her love for what has become her little family after losing her husband so many years ago. “I was very proud of her.”
“So much pride,” she beams, then echoes Adriel’s claim. “You did this. We are lucky to have you here.”
My heart squeezes with those words that pull me farther into this life, this family, which I want to be mine. Which I want to protect.
“Oh, and Adriel ordered her furniture for her new apartment,” Marabella continues. “She’s very excited about it.” She sobers, lowering her voice. “I am glad she’s out of the middle of the Underground business. It was never good for her, and the truth is, you either have to be in this or out of it.”
“And you, Marabella?” I ask. “Are you in or out?”
“Do you have to ask? Kayden has offered me a lake retreat near Milan many times. But I don’t plan to die at a beach retreat near Milan. And who would take care of all of you if I’m gone?” She hugs me. “You are my new goddaughter.” She leans back to look at me. “I know it’s not official, but I say you are. So you are.”
“I’m honored,” I say, meaning it, certain in this moment that Kayden and Adriel are right. She didn’t take the pages from my journal, not unless she was blackmailed or tricked—but I need to know for certain. “A random question for you, Marabella,” I say, digging for my answers. “Do you remember seeing my journal by the bedside?”
Her brow furrows. “Journal?”
“A small notebook.”
“Oh,” she says. “The one you keep by your bed?”
“Yes. Did you happen to tear a page or two out?”
Her eyes go wide. “No. Of course not. I wouldn’t do that. What would make you think—”
“It’s nothing, Marabella. I’m sorry; I should have explained. I’ve been having flashbacks, and I can’t always remember what I do when I have them. I’m pretty sure I tore the pages out and I’m just a little freaked out about that.”
“Oh.” Concern fills her face. “Oh. I don’t like how that sounds. Have you talked to Nathan?”
“Talk to me about what?”