Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“How much of that can be attributed to you?” I would not put it past Cain to have caused the PTSD.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Were you the one to give her the drugs that caused these symptoms?”
“No,” he hisses.
Well, that’s something. “I’ll get you what you want—”
“Excellent.”
“—but you should understand the possible side effects.”
Cain glares at me. “I’m all fucking ears.”
“She will get worse before she gets better. All human subjects have showed deterioration before significant improvement. Some had to be committed to psych wards. ”
“I can contain her.”
“She might get worse and stay worse. Or get worse and then go back to how she was in the first place.”
“What are the odds?”
“I’ll get you a spread sheet with all the data I have. Off the top of my head, 50-50 that she’ll deteriorate then go back to how she was or deteriorate and get better. There is no cure for PTSD, but if this works as intended—big if—the hallucinations caused by other drugs will go.”
Cain’s nostrils flare, and he pauses before nodding. “Fine.”
“Fine,” I echo.
“And the odds that she’ll deteriorate and stay that way?”
“It’s an anomaly. 1% of subjects experienced it.”
“Any commonalities between them?”
“Yes. They didn’t want to get better.”
Cain looks away. Inhales sharply. His fingers twitch, and he briefly closes his eyes before pinning me with a hard stare. “Alright.”
“You better work fast,” I say, sitting back. “You’ll get my payment when I get my information.”
Cain shakes his head. “Not the deal—I need it now.”
“It’ll take me time to get the samples. A week, at least. Which should give you more than enough time to figure out who tried to get me killed.
” I give it a 50% chance that it was someone in the Eyes.
Whoever it is, I need to know, so I can ensure Lyra’s protection if I don’t get the votes I need at the tribunal.
“Fine,” Cain hisses. “I hope to never see you again in person.”
“Go fuck yourself. First, see yourself out.”
I stand, adjust my cufflinks, and go to find my future wife.
Instead of finding her on the bed, however, I find her in our bathroom. Curled up in the bath with her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes distant. Having Cain break into our apartment is an unparalleled security breach.
Instead of reprimanding her, I strip out of my clothes and join her in the tub. Water sloshes over the edges as I climb in behind her, pulling her comfortably between my legs. She goes willingly, resting her head on my chest, breasts rising and falling with each sharp breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “He never should’ve been able to get in here.
“You’re right; he shouldn’t have.” She casts me a long glance over her shoulder. “If we’re not safe here, where are we safe?”
I don’t think there is anywhere safe from the Nighthawks. They’re the most prolific killers in the world. Instead of telling her as much, I vow, “it won’t happen again.”
“What about the house in Connecticut you mentioned?” she asks, facing away from me again. “Will we be safe there?”
“A single apartment is easier to guard. Too many holes to patch on an estate.”
She gives a short, humorless laugh. “So this is going to be our life?”
My heart quickens at her use of our. Despite her anger, I think my little bird might finally be fucking accepting me. The overwhelming urge to sit her on my cock and claim her pussy so thoroughly she’s screaming overwhelms me, but I shove it down. Another time.
“Things will be better after the tribunal,” I say firmly. If I survive it. Which is still a pretty significant goddamn if, considering no evidence links Silas to my attempted assassination. But it had to have been someone.
“How long?” she asks.
I swallow. “A week.” Exactly how long Cain has to figure out who came for me. But if it isn’t Silas or someone working for Silas, then that information does jack shit for the trial.
I have Raegan’s and Griffin’s vote, but I need one more.
I can’t rely on Ryan, considering he won’t even take my request for a meeting.
I have to assume he’s already been recruited by Vlad and Silas.
So my best bet is Spencer, who’s not going to vote for me without proof.
He did also say Silas’s case is weak, but…
“A week,” she exhales softly. “You could be dead in… a week.”
I smile sadly against her hair. “I’ll do everything in my power to prevent it. And, no matter what happens to me, you’ll be safe. I promise.”
“I don’t want you to die,” she whispers, barely audible. As if she’s afraid to bring the admission to life.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I take the moment to revel in her words, in the meaning behind them.
She’s not telling me she loves me or anything so grand, but this is a step in that direction.
It gives me yet another reason to survive the tribunal; I want to hear her tell me she loves me. I want her to feel it.
I haven’t been easy to be with for her. I’m perfectly aware of my flaws. And I’m even more aware that if there is anyone in this world who can handle them, that person is Lyra.
“I won’t,” I say, but even I hear the question in my tone. “There’s too much for me to still do here. And I can’t leave you.” I rest a hand on her midsection, marveling at how much space it takes. Imagining the moment it starts to swell with a life we made together.
“I don’t want you to leave me, either.” Lyra rests her left hand on top of mine, engagement ring glittering brightly, catching the bathroom light.
“I spent a long time hating and fearing you, Killian. But now…” her voice drops, the quietest whisper yet.
“Even after everything you’ve put me through, I don’t know how I could live without you. ”
“You’ll never have to, Little Bird. You’re stuck with me.”