Claiming Charlotte (Cardinal #2)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

ROWAN

S itting on my bike staring numbly at the house and willing my erratic breathing to slow, I raised my hand to my chest and rubbed slow circles, swallowing thickly. I didn’t hear a single sound coming from the house, and it was completely dark; no lights showed in any of the windows, which was disconcerting, given what I’d heard over the phone. Memories of hearing glass shatter and Lottie’s pleas as they dragged her away plagued me.

As I sat in front of Charlotte’s childhood home, I knew that she needed me just as much as I needed her, and I had no intention of letting her down. I ran my shaky fingers through my hair as her voice echoed through my head, bouncing around it like a pinball.

Face your demons Roe…

I recalled a memory— a great memory— of holding Charlotte in my arms. I intended to have a serious conversation with her about what was coming, what I told her merely scratched the surface when it came to the Walkers. She followed me out onto the balcony, and I wrapped her tight in my arms and dipped my head in the crook of her neck to whisper sweet nothings, to relax her tense frame. A vanilla scent wafted from her hair when I moved it to the side, and at that moment all I wanted was to have it engulf me. I promised her that I would fight for her, that I would protect her no matter what.

Coming out of the memory, the only sound I could hear was the rumble from the hot metal underneath me, and I internally hoped it would help calm my nerves. Big shock. It didn’t.

Come on, Rowan. Get off the damn bike and rescue your Princess…

Using that memory to propel my leg over the motorcycle, I stood stiff as a board and let out a breath before straightening up. It was time. Walker could torture me for the rest of my life if it meant Lottie was safe from him. I left the bike running, and I could still feel the vibrations of its engines on my inner thighs spurring me forward toward the house and the looming nightmare I’d find inside. She won’t hate you for something you can’t control man…. I chided myself, trying hard to cling to some positive thing in the whole situation.

I had to be strong for Charlotte. I didn’t know how I’d get her back or keep her safe, but the thought of Richard’s hands on her made me clench my jaw in anger, it's time to stop running. Just that morning I’d decided I would have to face my past to keep Charlotte safe, but it seemed as though my hand was forced then. From Lottie, to recovery, and even thoughts of my mother and what she would think was what drove me. So much work went into the last six years of my life, and right now, it’s threatening to crash down; right at my feet.

I didn’t have a choice anymore. I’d have to face the fact that if it came down to it, I would have to go back to the Walkers if I wanted to protect her. But would she still love me? Would she think I betrayed her? If only I could get past this mental roadblock.

Charlotte was about to discover the reason for my fucked-up past, and not by my words, in the flesh; and I had a sinking feeling that it would change our relationship forever.? Regardless of whether I could save our relationship, I couldn't let her succumb to Richard.

While forced to slowly become this ruthless leader, Charlotte still had an innocence about her personality. It was what sparked something within me from the start. She was too pure for all of this; she didn’t deserve it. Charlotte’s personality had sparked something within me that I never wanted to let go of.

I wouldn’t be able to keep moving if I didn’t forgive myself for my past, a flash of memories played in my head and the tears threatened to spill over. I looked to my left and saw a hollow slightly translucent version of my past self. He smirked and nodded before disappearing in a wisp of air from the wind. I couldn't protect her or myself back then, but I can now, and I would, even if it meant becoming the monster I had locked away for so long.

We may not come out of this the same, but anyone who even looked at her with lust filled thoughts was going to have their eyes carved out with a spork. Fucking stick, turn, and scoop motherfuckers.

As I ascended the steps, my heart pounded an unsteady rhythm in my ears, drowning out even the sound of the idling bike behind me.

Fuck.

I placed a shaky hand on the doorknob and twisted it open.