Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
WREN
“You’re pretty, so I’m giving you wings like an angel,” the little girl proclaims, scribbling on my left cheek.
Another silently doodles on my right. I don’t care if the markers they’re using aren’t waterproof.
“?Qué estás haciendo?” I tickle the girl on my right.
She giggles. “Mariposas.”
“Gracias. Te amo, mariposas.”
My Spanish isn’t perfect, but Sire was teaching me some.
Moments like this are bittersweet. Like me, the girl loves butterflies. Like him, I love these kids. Like these kids, I wonder where he is, too.
Ms. Davis calls out in Spanish, and the kids rush to the playroom door, excited when their parents pick them up. After we straighten the room and clean the tables, she asks, “So, how is our intrepid missionary?”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I swallow.
“He’s loving the work, of course.” The lies roll too easily off my tongue. “But he doesn’t love the freezing temps over there.”
“I bet not,” she laughs, handing me a baby wipe for my face.
“Oh, I don’t mind the doodles.” They make me think of him. I give her a quick hug. “See ya tomorrow.”
Quickly, I grab my handbag and leave. Any day, I fear Ms. Davis, or someone will see right through me.
Pain hides behind a thin mask. It can crumble, like me, at any second.
Smearing away tears, I go to Sire’s office, log on, and check his emails. Dutifully, I reply to what I can and forward the rest to the staff and clergy.
I don’t let myself sniff the hoodie he left on his chair. His masculine aroma hurts too much. I want to smell him, his warm skin, not a cold, cotton hoodie.
In the chapel an hour later, I’m not alone. A few others silently pray. I find little comfort in the desperation that brings us here.
Nodding at them, I work my way to the front pew. To my spot in front of Sire’s pulpit. Kneeling, I let my gaze fall on the sacred space in front of the altar.
The place where I became Sire’s.
And he became mine.
Tears fall, and minutes pass while I say every prayer and make every promise. I even call on Dolly, but fear no one’s listening, until someone startles me.
“Ahem.”
I turn, not seeing who I wish was there.
Him.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Rutledge.”
No, it’s Karen, aka. Mrs. Cabot.
“Yes?” I rise, dabbing my eyes with a tissue.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your prayers. I’m sure we share the same ones, for his safe return.”
For once, I nod, agreeing with her.
Awkwardly, she shuffles in her plaid Lilly Pulitzer heels. “I just want to say that… Well, I’ve been praying, too. For him and for you.”
I blink, not sure if there’s a judgmental back slap coming.
“You’ve been so graceful and strong, the perfect First Lady for this church in his absence.
We see you with the children, and at service every day.
You’re doing a great job, organizing the nativity play and holiday market in advance.
And well…” She twists her lips before they confess, “I misjudged you, and I’m sorry. ”
The words he’d say spill from my heart, “Judge not, and you will not be judged. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.” I touch her arm. “Thank you, and I accept your apology.”
If I were happy, I’d be inwardly twerking. All triumphant, savage, and classy with Megan Thee Stallion.
But I’m not happy.
I’m barely hanging on.
I let Mrs. Cabot ramble on about the holiday market and what her bible circle has planned. It sounds like pastel plaid Christmas bows are the trend. God, help us.
Finally, I escape her mind-numbing chatter, wishing her a good night.
Walking home through the graveyard by myself doesn’t scare me. My fears are far worse than ghosts.
Usually, Jace escorts me home, but I lied to him and said Grant was doing it tonight.
I just don’t have the heart to look my kings in the eye without spilling my soul.
Why isn’t he calling?
Twice a day, Sire has called. First, from Ukraine, where the signal wasn’t reliable. Then, from Moscow, where we could sometimes do a video chat.
But I missed his call three days ago. One of the preschool kids threw up, and that caused another to do it. The Exorcist would’ve been proud, and by the time I tried to call him back, he didn’t answer.
His voicemail said his surgery was the next day and now…
Nothing.
Yakov texted with an update, but I don’t trust him. He said Sire is in recovery, but if that were the case, Sire would call me. He’d never go a day without talking to me.
Something’s wrong.
I know it.
I feel it.
I don’t think I can breathe through it.
Pushing open the iron gate between the graveyard and our building’s parking lot, I chew my trembling lip, not sure if I should start a Bratva war or book the next flight to Moscow.
What if I’m being impulsive? Naive? Even immature? Patience has never been my virtue. What if I pull the trigger on Sire’s secret and ruin everything? What if I—
“Wren.”
A husky voice makes me jump. Reaching for the gun in my bag, it’s training; I whip around, my thumb flipping off the safety, my aim landing on a shocked face.
“Whoa, whoa, my queen.”
My shoulders sag. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Same.” Loch grins with his hands up. “I need to borrow a pair of his boxers now.”
At the mention of Sire, I twist my lips, blinking back tears.
“You okay?” Loch reaches for me.
“Yeah,” I lie with my cheek smushed against his marble pecs.
“Where’s Jace?”
“I don’t need an escort everywhere I go.”
Lowly, Loch warns, “Wren, you know better.”
“I’ll give you cookies if you don’t lecture me.”
“Deal.”
Once we’re inside, I open the laundry room, and Onyx mewls at my feet. Courtesy of Axel and Ruby’s mama cat, Sparky, this orange tabby kitten has been my one joy. Well, two joys, counting our little secret no one knows about.
I pick him up, nuzzling the wet, black spot on his nose. “Hey, buddy. You hungry?”
“Fucking starving,” Loch answers for him, making himself at home, searching through my refrigerator. “What is this shit? Rabbit food?”
“No, it’s salad and rotisserie chicken.”
For the baby, I make myself eat healthy meals. Otherwise, I’d have no appetite.
“Where’s all the biscuits and ham and mashed potatoes?” he huffs, frustrated.
“Okay, DoorDash.” I flop down on the sofa, letting Onyx crawl over me. “Next time, call ahead with your dinner order.”
Grabbing the tin of cookies I made for the church kids, Loch falls into Sire’s black leather chair. “What time does he usually call?”
It used to be any minute. But now? I won’t blow his cover. “Some nights he doesn’t call. He can’t get a signal.”
Angrily, Loch chomps a cookie. “I need his advice. He’s the only one who can calm me down.”
“Calm you down from what? Murdering my Snickerdoodles?”
“No.” He swallows. “Murdering someone over Alena.”
I lean forward, relieved for the distraction. “What happened?”
“I resumed Operation Grovel For Alena like you told me to, and it was working.”
“Yeah, I saw you two sneak away at Axel and Ruby’s wedding.”
“Exactly.” He stacks his tactical boots on the coffee table. I don’t care. All the kings do it. “We had some hot, kinky nights, and I thought we were back together, that we were good. But then she said we needed to talk.”
“Uh-oh.”
“No, shit,” he agrees. “I don’t have to lie to Alena anymore. I was fine with it, answering all her questions about us, the kings and queens, about Delphine, too, and how she trained me.”
Don’t do it.
I’m dying to raise my hand and blurt questions about how Delphine trained Loch, too. God, I bet it was hot. But I suspect that’s not the burning issue.
“Honesty’s the best policy.” Instead, I win the gold medal in hypocrisy, but I’m trying to help him.
“Yeah,” he glowers, “but then Alena got real fucking honest with me.”
The hinge of his granite jaw flexes.
Usually, Loch’s lush lips smirk, relaxed, while his sexy blue eyes murder. It’s a lethal, panty-melting family trait the brothers share. Forget how well-endowed they are, too. Their look alone could inseminate.
But tonight, it’s not seductive. It’s scary.
“Honest about what?”
“Her first,” he seethes.
“Okay,” I ease. “Almost every woman has a first. I mean, unless she’s a nun, and even then… It’s not a crime.”
His nostrils flare. “Is it a crime if her first is your brother?”
Cue heart seizing. “What?”
It’s not Sire. It’s not Sire. I know he protects his brothers’ secrets—I don’t mind—but between us, there are none. Especially about sex and his past partners. Sire would’ve told me.
So, which one is it?
Not Nick. He’s gay. Is it Jace? Or Grant? I mean, Grant’s got the freest Willy of all the kings, but even he isn’t dumb enough to fuck Nash’s daughter.
Hell, Loch risked his life to get Nash’s blessing, and Nash still growls about it. To Nash, Alena is like a plastic Barbie doll with no holes.
Carefully, I venture, afraid I’ll poke the Grizzly named Loch. “Who was her first?”
He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, baring his teeth like he’s ready to maul.
“Axel.”
The room starts spinning. I grab the sofa. “Axel?” I gasp. “Like, Alena’s godfather, Axel? Like, Nash’s grumpy sidekick, Axel? Like our king? Our leader? Axel?”
Loch huffs, ready to attack, “Like my big brother, who I’ve always trusted, who’s been lying to me for years. Yes, Axel was Alena’s first fuck.”
Holy second-worst-lie-in-this-family drama. What would make Axel do it? Fuck his best friend’s daughter?
And forget about his best friend. Look at his not-so-little brother. The rage churning with pain in Loch’s eyes is scary. I fear what he’ll do.
So, what would Sire do?
“Okay, hang on. I need some context.” I pet Onyx. It calms me. “When was this?”
Loch shrugs like he doesn’t care. It’s done; Axel’s dead. “Six years ago.”
“Did Axel know you were in love with Alena?”
“No one knew.”
“And Alena didn’t know you?”
“We had met, but she had no idea who I was.”
“So, she didn’t know that you were Axel’s baby brother?”
“Not until she found out about everything else, no.”
“Okay, with all due respect…” I let Onyx chew on my curls. “This is all B.U.”
He jerks back. “B.U.?”
“Yeah. Before you. No one is guilty of who they fucked before you.”
“But Axel should’ve told me.”
“Maybe. But maybe he had a good reason not to.”
The veins on his inked neck pop. “A good reason for lying to his brother?”
I swallow. For a second, I had forgotten my pain. My lie. Sire’s lie.
“Maybe your brother did it to protect the family,” I hint. “To protect Alena. I mean, how did it happen? Because I can’t ever see Axel betraying Nash.”
Loch sighs, falling back in the black leather chair. He fills it like a king, just like his brother.
“Alena said it was her, that she came onto Axel. She was tired of being a virgin, and she trusted him.”
I slap the leather sofa like I’m wielding a gavel.
“As a former virgin myself, I can testify in her defense. I get it. Some say virginity is a gift, but for others, it’s a burden.
Or it’s a process when we’re ready to mature.
And despite his many flaws, Axel is hot as fucking hell to … uh … process.”
“Not helping,” Loch huffs at the ceiling. “Where’s my pastor when I need him?”
Don’t. Don’t cry. I need him so much, too. I need Sire to be okay. I need our family to be okay.
“He’d tell you the same thing.” I choke, “To forgive.”
That draws Loch’s scrutiny. He aims his sexy eyes at me. “What did I say? Shit, Wren, are you upset?”
“Yeah.” Tears bite at my eyes. “Because you love Alena. You can have a life with her, and it’s that simple—be with her.”
“What about killing Axel?”
“Based on what you just told me? Nash will beat you to it. Does he know?”
“Not yet. Alena doesn’t know if she should tell him.” He cocks a thick brow. “I think she should, but—”
“But it’s her body, her sex life. We’re not men’s property anymore. She doesn’t have to tell her father who she fucked, or—”
“True.” He nods. “But Nash is more than a father. He’s a king. He’s like our brother. We don’t lie to each other. That’s what makes this hurt so much; Axel lying to me.”
This is what Axel was hiding.
That evening on the yacht with The Six when Axel said he’d hope for forgiveness from his family, it was for this. For Alena.
“Do you think Ruby knows?” Loch asks what I’m wondering too.
Mentally, I run through every hug, laugh, tear, and more I’ve shared with Ruby. She’s perfect for Axel; twice as smart and three steps ahead of him. She’s like us. She’s a queen.
“Yeah, Ruby’s gotta know. Axel loves his balls too much to lie to her.”
“And yet,” Loch shakes his head, “Ruby hasn’t said anything.”
Onyx has fallen asleep on my belly. I know it’s probably not possible, but I swear our kitten senses it. He’s already sleeping next to…
Our baby.
I lift my chin, but it trembles. “Ruby’s protecting her king, and Axel would do the same for her. He’d die for her. They’re in love. Just like you and Alena. Just like me and…”
I can’t.
My voice breaks.
So does my mask.
Tears burst, streaming down my cheeks.
“Fuck, Wren.” Loch jumps up to sit beside me. “I’m sorry. I came here, all about my shit, when you’re dealing with it too.”
Sweetly, he hugs me. He assures, “It’ll be alright. He’ll be home soon, and I’ll tell him all about how you stopped World War Three.”
Stop a war?
Or start one?
I don’t know what to do.