Chapter 2 – Lance
Two
Watching Her Break
Lance
The surveillance monitor flickered, casting blue light across my bandaged ribs as I sat up and watched Morgan.
She was on screen again. Sitting in Gwen and Atticus's guest room, staring at nothing. She'd been wearing the same pajamas for three days. Her braids hung around her face, and even through the grainy feed, I could see the dark circles under her eyes.
She looked like she was giving up.
Hector had only shown me snippets in brief moments of consciousness while I’d been recovering. Probably because he was worried that I would do something stupid.
It was probably the right call. If I’d gone after her, I might’ve gotten us both killed. But seeing how much weight she’d lost had my chest twisting and my fists clenching, more than ready to tear through anything to get to her.
"She's not eating," Hector said from behind me. His voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the edge of concern.
"I can see that,” I ground out through my teeth.
My brother moved into view, setting a cup of coffee next to my elbow. The steam curled up between us, but I couldn't take my eyes off the screen.
If someone had told me three months ago, I’d be in a safe house with my brother, relying on him so heavily and watching my wife, unable to go to her, I’d have called them a liar, then perhaps slit their throat for their trouble.
Morgan had my journal open in her lap. She'd been reading it for hours, tears streaming down her face as she turned each page.
I wanted to put my fist through the monitor.
"Lance."
"What?"
"You're bleeding through the bandages again."
I looked down. He was right. Dark spots were seeping through the white gauze wrapped around my torso. The explosion had done a number on me; broken ribs, internal bleeding, burns on my back and arms. But I was alive.
Thanks to Hector.
I still wasn't sure how I felt about that.
"Tell me again," I said, not taking my eyes off Morgan. "How you happened to be in the right place at the right time." The first time Hector told me, my mind and body were riddled with pain, and I hadn’t really focused on it.
Now I wanted to tear everything apart, searching for anything they had tried to hide, anything I needed to tuck away for when I burned their fucking world to the ground for daring to come after my wife.
Hector's jaw tightened. "I found out about the plan that morning."
"What plan? Give me details and not vague shit."
"The bomb. Grandfather was targeting Morgan." His voice was flat. "And the old man sent me to make sure she was dead afterward."
My blood went cold. "He sent you to kill my wife."
"I think he suspected I might not do it. Because I knew about the marriage rule - family spouses are supposed to be protected." Hector's hands clenched into fists. "But he wanted her dead anyway."
"So what did you do?"
"I was coming to warn her. To dismantle the bomb before it went off." His voice cracked. "But when I got there, it was you in that car instead."
The memory was hazy. I had been a few feet from my car. I hit the remote start button, then the click of the ignition failed to turn over. Next thing I knew, I was thrown back, and something heavy and unmovable landed on top of me.
There'd been smoke and fire and the taste of blood in my mouth. Heat had seared my chest, making it hard to breathe. Then Hector dragged me away from the wreckage, his voice shouting my name over the roar of flames.
"You were coming to save her." I allowed the truth of that to sink into my bones.
Hector was quiet for a long moment. "I was too late. By the time I got there, you'd already..." He gestured at the wreckage.
"So you saved me instead."
A grimace of some unknown emotion flashed across his face. "I found my brother dying and made a choice."
My chest tightened. I was the brother he'd barely spoken to in ten years. The brother who'd walked away from the family and never looked back.
"Why?" I asked. "Why risk defying him? Why save either of us?"
Hector pressed his mouth into a firm line before moving to another monitor, his shoulders tense. "Because I found proof about our mother. That the old man had her killed."
Ice formed in my gut. "What kind of proof?"
"Financial records. Communication logs. Orders that came directly from him to Marseille.” Hector's voice was flat.
“Do you remember right after she died, he tried to say she trusted the wrong people?
Well, I think he was the wrong person. I have some files that suggest she was making plans for her way out.
But she wasn't just trying to leave the family, Lance. She was trying to take us with her."
I closed my eyes, seeing my mother's face. The way she'd looked at me the night before she died, like she was memorizing me.
"He found out," I said, something savage wrenching through my entire body.
Hector raked his fingers through his hair. “Yes. I’m not sure how. But she'd already arranged safe passage out of the country. New identities for all three of us."
"But she never told us."
"She was protecting us is all I can guess. If we didn't know, we couldn't be blamed for her betrayal."
“And you didn’t go to our great uncles?”
Hector shrugged. “If you’re going to take a shot at the king, don’t miss. I need your help. And Silas. That little traitor knew the most about her.”
“Don’t call him that,” I said, glowering at my brother.
Hector rolled his shoulders. “He was her bodyguard, and he was fucking her. Who’s to say if they weren’t fucking when Dad was killed?”
Could he be this stupid?
It was Hector, so yes.
“Are you for real? He didn’t become her bodyguard until after Dad died.
Grandfather had other uses for him. If you want me to believe and fucking help you, you’re going to have to realize that half of what you believe is based on Grandfather’s bullshit.
Silas has saved me more than once. When you were busy trying to prove you were a better assassin, he was busy helping our mother. So save it.”
Hector glowered at me for a long moment, then his gaze shifted. “Fine. You’re right. Grandfather is the real enemy. We focus on taking him down.”
“Agreed. But we need to bring in Silas.”
He shrugged. “Fine. But I can see it in your eyes, you can’t have Morgan. Let Gwen handle her. You can’t go to her until this is over, Lance. That would just endanger her more.”
"She's not eating," I said, gesturing at the monitor. “I can at least let her know so she’ll take care of herself.”
"She's grieving. It's normal. She’ll snap out of it.”
“Bullshit. I’m not staying away from her. Gwen told me once what happened after their mother died. Morgan stopped talking for three months. Stopped eating. Stopped everything." I leaned forward, studying my wife's face. "She doesn't just grieve, Hector. She disappears."
On screen, Morgan had fallen asleep with the journal pressed against her chest. Even in sleep, she looked lost.
"She'll recover. People do."
"Not Morgan." I knew my wife. I knew the way she loved. Completely, without reservation, without protection. "She doesn't do anything halfway. Including giving up."
The truth settled between us like lead.
I'd married Morgan to protect her from my family. But I'd fallen in love with her fire, her stubborn refusal to back down from anything. That fire was dying now.
“You go near her, the old man finds out and is clued in that you’re alive, she dies.
He has men watching her. He's got surveillance on all of us - cameras, informants in the security companies, people monitoring hospital records and morgues. If he sees you anywhere near her, if anyone reports a Lance Lakewood sighting, she's dead within hours. As far as he’s concerned, she was the one who made you access your emotions and shit. She made you weak, and he saw her as a cancer that needed to be cut out of your life. Now that you are gone, it is like she is no longer a threat. She is no longer relevant. He’s pissed he missed out on the chance to bring you back in.
He’ll stop at nothing for a second chance if given another opportunity. He wants his perfect killer back.”
Fuck. Denial roared through me. I needed Morgan to know. The problem was, I believed Hector. My grandfather was a paranoid man, and he would be watching her to make sure.
Can you stay away, though?
Simple answer, no.
I turned my attention back to my brother. “So what's the plan?" I asked. "I stay dead forever while she gives up on living?"
He sighed. “A few more weeks.”
Fucking hell. I could not imagine Morgan feeling this kind of pain for another minute, much less weeks. I was in no position to protect her now. I needed to heal, to be at the top of my game again.
The idea of not telling her felt like something was tearing me in two. “Hector…”
“Lance, you need to do this,” he said quietly. “For her sake and for yours. Trust that I’m working on it.”
“How?” I snapped.
“I want to get to Marseille, track down contacts. Starting with Pernaut again. He’s never given us anything. But I have some leverage, and I want to see if I can squeeze any more blood out of that stone.”
Pernaut. The man in prison for our mother’s death.
“I wanted to make sure you were strong enough first. If we bring Silas in, then I can go sooner.”
“Go, I’m good. Give me what you have so far. I’ll go through it with Silas.”
He nodded but gave me a shrewd smirk. “I don’t have to tell you, right? To stay the fuck away from her? I’d force you to come with me, but I don’t think it’s wise for you to travel yet. I just saved your life. I can’t have you dying on me.”
“I promise nothing,” I muttered.
“Fuck, Lance.”
On the screen, Morgan stirred in her sleep. Her hand moved across the bed, searching for something that wasn't there. When she found only empty space, a small sound escaped her throat.
Even unconscious, she was looking for me.