Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Lucian
New York looks colder than Iceland from the windows of the jet. I swear to God, this is the longest winter I’ve ever endured. It began with a girl on my doorstep in a coat inadequate for the weather.
Then, she disappeared.
I hunted her down, landing in England with one thing in my veins: rage. I found her hiding in a cabin on the moors wearing my coat and pretending she did not need me. She was determined to take her ghosts on by herself.
I remember feeling like I couldn’t breathe until I found her and brought her back to safety.
And I swore, when I did, I’d never let her out of my arms.
And I’d lock her away from the world.
But then my ghosts came haunting and she’s been beside me every step of the way.
Now, she’ll stand beside me at the gates of my rebuilt home, her hand in mine.
And it guts me.
Because this time, I agreed to let her be seen.
The jet cuts through a low ceiling of winter cloud, descending toward the city.
Beside me, Erin sleeps. Or pretends to.
Her head rests against the cream leather seat. Her dark hair spills over one shoulder, the ends brushing my black coat I pulled over her like a blanket before takeoff. She fought me on the coat for exactly eight seconds, “I’m not tired,” then fell silent with my arm around her shoulders.
She is learning to choose her battles. I am learning not to make everything a battle.
Both of us are terrible at it. But we’re getting better.
Across the cabin, Rafe works in silence, tablet balanced on one knee, an encrypted laptop open on the small table in front of him.
Gregory sits beside him, pale and focused, his glasses slipping every time the plane dips through turbulence.
He has not stopped reviewing gate schematics since we left Iceland.
Blaze is near the rear of the cabin, one boot planted on the edge of the seat across from him, one hand turning a knife over and over.
He wants Cleo. Desperately.
His wife is a plane ride away, teaching Ryan and helping Cass. He let her go but he’s clearly regretting the decision.
Blaze has not made a joke in over three hours.
Concerning.
Isobel sits alone near the opposite window with Mack across the aisle. Guarded. Watched. Alive.
She stares down through the oval glass as if she expects the clouds to open and Carlos to be waiting beneath us with fire in his hands.
Maybe he is.
I turn back to Erin, watching the breath enter and leave her body, her chest rising lightly under the blanket.
The plane drops again. Her gaze finds mine immediately.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs.
“Yes.”
“Obsessive, much?”
“Yes. Always.”
Her mouth curves.
I want to put my mouth on hers until she forgets the city below us, the gates waiting, Carlos watching, the old routes waking beneath new stone.
Instead, I look away. Because I can’t lock her away.
New concept.
I hate it.
Rafe closes one window on his screen and opens another. “We land in seven minutes.”
Blaze’s knife stops moving.
Gregory exhales slowly. “The decoy movement went through three channels. Two old Moretti fragments, one Bachman contractor path. If Carlos is watching for emotional response, he has enough to believe we are coming hot.”
“We are coming in hot,” Blaze says.
“We are coming controlled,” Rafe corrects.
Blaze smiles without humor. “I’m bringing the blaze.”
We all wish for Cleo.
She keeps one of our most volatile men from trying to turn everything into a crime scene before the plan begins.
Rafe continues. “Carlos should believe we intend to enter the new Village gates within the hour. He should also believe Erin and Isobel are both with the team.”
“They are,” I say.
“Yes,” Erin’s gaze cuts to me. “We are. We will be.”
“They will be visible with the team,” Rafe says. “Protected by said team.”
My jaw tightens as the plane descends beneath the clouds. Bridges. Water. Buildings. More snow along rooftops. Too many cars inching along the roads.
My chest tightens. Not from nostalgia. From memory.
The first time I became responsible for another life, I was too young and too angry to understand responsibility was not the same as control. Gregory was a tiny boy then. Silent. Too clever.
Watching me with eyes that asked questions I couldn’t find the words to answer. It turns out emotional unavailability isn’t something that came after Isobel. I learned it the day my parents died.
Erin’s hand slides into mine. I look down. Her fingers are warm. Small, compared to mine.
But not fragile.
“You’re doing it again,” she says.
“What?”
“Staring.”
My throat tightens. I look at her.
A low laugh comes from Blaze. “Get married already, you two.”
“Has anyone told you to shut up yet today, Blaze?” Erin’s cheeks color with a shy smile.
The idea of Erin wearing my ring has lived under my skin long enough to become part of my pulse. Bayne started wedding talk to irritate me. Now, Blaze has picked it up.
“Um.” Erin clears her throat. “There has been no proposal.”
Rafe looks up. “Landing.”
The wheels hit the runway. New York accepts us back with a jolt.
Cold air slams into us as we step down onto the Bachman private tarmac. Armored SUVs wait in formation. Our men stand beside them, stone-faced and ready.
Every instinct screams for me to put my body between hers and the skyline, between hers and every man with eyes, every window, every rooftop, every possible line of fire.
Instead, I hold her hand as Mack opens the door.
Erin pauses before climbing in. “Any update on Cass and Ryan?”
“Secure,” Rafe says from behind us.
Relief moves through her body like water. “Thank goodness. I mean, I knew your men would protect them, but the confirmation is nice.”
Rafe says, “The Norway locations suit them. Cleo sent word that Ryan is doing well in his studies, and for us to give Blaze a kiss for her.”
I know what it means for her to stand here without the two people who made her desperate enough to walk into my life that first night. So, she knows a bit of what I’m feeling. Only, she gets to lock hers away in a secure location about as far from danger as possible.
Mine stands beside me and right now I’m helping her into an armored car.
The convoy starts.
Rafe and Gregory ride in the lead vehicle with two security men. Blaze and others take the third. Isobel is in the fourth under guard.
Erin and I ride in the second. The city slides past tinted glass. Gray sidewalks. Steam rising from grates. People bumping shoulders along the sidewalk, hunched against winter wind.
A boy tugging his mother’s sleeve near a crosswalk. A woman carrying flowers wrapped in paper. A delivery truck blocking half a lane.
Life continuing, indifferent to the danger our cars are driving straight for.
Erin watches me.
I watch her.
“Say it,” she says.
I look forward out the wind screen. “Say what?”
“Whatever terrible thing is crawling around in your head.”
My teeth grit. “There are many.”
“Pick your favorite.” And she smiles.
Despite myself, my mouth twitches
Then the silence between us stretches as another ghost rises from the ashes.
Isobel, pale, shaken, beautiful. But it’s not her I think of.
She holds her hand over her stomach. “Lucian, I might be pregnant.”
The city outside blurs for one second. My voice comes before I can convince myself to silence it. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
Erin goes very still. “What?”
I look at her. “Isobel was pregnant. Back then.”
Her eyes widen, a small break in her expression. Shock. She reaches for my hand.
“She was?” Erin asks.
“Yes.” My throat feels scraped raw. The words come harder now. “She miscarried early.”
Erin inhales softly. “Before or after the fire?”
“Before.” I stare at our joined hands.
I can’t look at her. Because I can’t bear to see her face when I cause her more pain.
Erin is quiet. Too quiet.
I force myself to look at her. She’s looking at me, worried about me.
She says, “This isn’t about me, Lucian. Stop worrying about me. This is about you. Your pain.”
That undoes me more than anger would have. I rub a hand over my forehead, releasing the tension there.
“It was your baby,” she says softly. “It wouldn’t hurt me for you to love your child.”
“I…”
Her thumb moves over my hand. “Where would Cass be without Ryan?”
The name not spoken sits with us anyway. Caleb. They love Ryan despite him.
“I can handle you loving a child, even her. The only thing I couldn’t take is if you were still in love with her.” Her voice trembles once. “I don’t share well.”
“Neither do I,” I choke out a laugh. “And you know there’s no space inside me that belongs to anyone but you.”
I lift my hand and cup her face. She leans into the touch. “I’ve come to realize something,” she whispers. “It’s okay for the before Lucian to love the before Isobel.”
Something inside me breaks. Not collapse. More like a dam.
Release.
Erin gives me a watery smile. “Honestly, I think she would have made a fierce mother. Possibly terrifying. But fierce.”
I stare at her, this woman who is always surprising me.
She shrugs. “Like that spider who eats her partner after mating to nourish the baby inside her.”
For one second, the entire world stops.
Then a laugh tears out of me. Uncontrolled. Wrong for the day.
Perfect.
Erin’s smile grows. “What? It’s nature.”
“You are twisted.”
“As are you,” she says. “The perfect pair.”
I pull her into me. She tucks against my side, and I bury my face in her hair. The brutal truth comes before I can stop it.
Whispered words are all I can manage. “I was afraid you might leave me,” I say into the dark silk.
Her body stills. She turns to face me, her arms around my neck. “I’ll never leave you.”
A pause.
“But it’s getting pretty difficult for a patient lady to keep waiting for a commitment. Are you ever going to get around to proposing to me or what? Hearing even Blaze talking about wedding bells, a girl starts to get bridal fever.”
My heart slams once. Hard.
She lifts her head. There is fear in her eyes now.
Fear that she asked too much.
Fear that she opened a door for us that I might not walk through.
Foolish girl. Beautiful girl. Mine.
I cup her jaw. “Do you want me to propose in an armored car on the way to bait a psychopath?”
Her lips part.
Then narrow. “No.”
“Good,” I say. “Because there is only one thing that’s been holding me back.”
“Which is?” She stares up at me.
“The ring has to come from the family jewelry store. There can be no other way.” I brush a thumb over her lips. “And so, I wait.”
“Oh my God.” A grin breaks over her face. “A ring from Bachmans Jewelers. Do you know how many times I’ve walked by that store before I met you? Dreaming of diamonds I’d never have.”
For a moment, with New York outside and Carlos waiting somewhere beneath old bones, I can see it. A ring. Her dress. The Village gates opening without blood.
Erin walking toward me because she chooses me.
My wife.
The thought is so sharp I can’t breathe.
Rafe’s voice comes through the comm. “Two minutes to outer perimeter.”
The moment folds itself away as the convoy slows. Ahead, Bachman Village rises from ash.
Erin looks out the window. Her hand finds mine.