Chapter 40 OBSIDIAN PAST
Present: Chicago
Lightning sears the dark room in a flash of white as the wind beats against the windows. A rare thundersnow storm descends upon us.
Cece meows and scurries out of the bedroom, no doubt to find Hannah or Ren for comfort.
Unease knots my chest as I brush my hair at the antique desk. My silk nightgown clings to my skin after my shower.
Where is he? It’s midnight, and Elias is usually home by now after doing whatever he does with his shadowy business.
Ever since the Benefaction a week ago, something has shifted between us.
I’d wake up to my usual Geraldine’s Chocolates on the nightstand, but now they’d be accompanied with a single, long-stemmed rose, and the lounge chair would be pulled up at my bedside.
Instead of feeling exposed, butterflies would swarm in my gut at the thought of him watching me sleep.
And a secret voice would whisper in my head.
Why doesn’t he stay?
“Kian’s gone… Don’t hope for anything more.”
Maybe he’s right. The cutthroat, brutal Elias today is nothing like the sweet, gentle boy of my childhood. I saw it at the Benefaction—his viciousness as he protected my honor, the bloodlust in his eyes.
But then, there’s his tender touch as he mended my dress. The way those emerald pools still stare at me like I’m his salvation.
And so, despite all the red flags he waves, I realize one truth.
If he asked—if my sweet Kian or my savage Elias asked me to give him a chance—I’d say yes. Not because it’s smart or safe, but because my heart calls for it.
No one’s ever made me feel the way he does. And maybe I’m still the hopeless romantic wishing for a certain music box, or the girl who’d look at her parents’ wedding photos, dreaming about an enduring love—even if it ended in death.
My heart aches when I trace the carvings of the little cherubs on the desk—gold-tipped arrows and all.
That’s why it looks familiar. A long time ago, when innocent Elise told gentle Kian about her dream house, she mentioned such a desk.
And he got it for me, all without ever revealing who he was.
A crash startles me. The front door slams open.
Heavy footfalls reach my ears.
My muscles tense in anticipation. I know that gait, that sound.
Elias.
I set down my brush and stand just as the door swings open.
My breath goes shallow.
Elias grips the doorframe, his dark suit jacket and shirt unbuttoned, tie hanging around his neck. His thick hair is in disarray, like he’s been yanking at it.
But it’s not his dishevelment, the antithesis of the calm, conniving dealer of secrets, that steals my breath.
It’s his eyes.
A swirling tempest haunts those greens, like he’s seen one tragedy too many.
His broad chest rises and falls, breath ragged, fingers white-knuckled around the doorframe.
I stand frozen, every nerve blooming toward him, like he’s the sun I’ve been missing.
Thunder rattles the windows, but I barely notice.
His eyes darken as he slowly uncoils from the threshold.
A muscle tics in his sharp jaw as he advances toward me.
Something clatters onto the desk, followed by a loud thud.
My brush. The stool I was sitting on.
I back up before realizing it.
My universe narrows to the five feet of air between us.
“E-Elias,” I whisper, “What’s wrong?”
Something’s different. I stand at the cliff’s edge, seconds away from plummeting, the ground ripped away from me.
He doesn’t answer me. He only swallows, his steps slow but measured. My back hits the wall by the bed.
Elias stops a foot before me, his gaze intent on mine, and slowly peels off his leather gloves.
“You know, Kian would still be alive,” he rasps, his voice thick, “if it weren’t for you.”
He braces one hand on the wall, the other grazing my cheek, the gentleness completely at odds with the fury in his words.
“What are you talking about?” I furrow my brows. Awareness lights low in my belly, liquid heat spreading with each graze of his scarred fingers against my skin.
My body cants toward him, craving his touch, his words, anything.
He lets out a hollow laugh. “You really know nothing, do you?”
Another shiver moves through me when he trails his finger down my neck, slowly and torturously, until it rests on my racing pulse.
His question finally registers, along with his accusation. A new fire ignites in my gut.
Indignation and fury.
“I don’t know what you think I did.” I push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. “But I know what I went through.”
Tears sting my eyes as I relive those dark months after the great Saints Hollow fire—images of death and destruction from the news scorched into my memory. I bite back the sob crawling up my throat. I refuse to cry in front of him.
“I didn’t know if you were dead or alive!
I called the hospitals so many times, they recognized my voice.
Do you know how devastated I was when I found out your parents and little Beatrice died?
How I was scared out of my mind every time I checked the casualties list, praying you and Sofia weren’t there? ”
I shove him again. Hard. Again and again, the bottled-up pain from all these years bursts out of me like the storm outside.
Elias takes my hits like they were nothing. He lets me use his body to vent my anger, while dark emotions swirl in his eyes as he keeps his finger on my pulse.
Like he’s trying to catch me in a lie.
“Then one day out of the blue,” I choke out, “I get an emerald pendant in the mail. No note, no return address.”
I tug the pendant free from my neckline. His eyes flare. The gem flashes under the dim light. “I knew it was you!”
My throat burns, but I push through, because this torture, this injustice, I can no longer keep to myself.
“I sent emails. I searched for any trace of you online. Nothing!” My vision blurs and I bite my lip. “I loved you, Kian. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you, and you discarded me like I was nothing, like I—”
“You brought them to our door!” he bellows, his fist driving into the wall next to my head.
I jolt, stunned into silence.
A vein jumps in his temple, a wet sheen clouding his eyes.
His pained eyes.
“What?”
“The Association,” he grinds out, “you led them straight to us.”
No, he can’t—What?
“I waited for you at Hollow Gardens for hours…hoping you’d show up. And during this time—” His voice cracks. “They went to my apartment, tied up my parents. They—”
“No.” My mind is stuck on his earlier statement. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. “I didn’t. You told me not to. I was careful. I never told anyone—”
I gasp, my eyes snapping up to his.
“Young lady, do you know where I can find the Lestes?” the taller gentleman asks with a smile as I descend the stairs after bidding Elias’s parents goodbye and leaving my note on the entryway table.
I stop mid-step and frown, unsure how to respond.
The man motions to the shorter man by his side, who holds up two large paper bags.
“We’re their cousins from Albania,” he explains, his voice thick with a foreign accent, “b-but I lost their address in the cab. Silly me.”
I eye their appearance—the tall one in a clean suit, the shorter one sharply dressed in a polo. They don’t look like the thugs loitering around the corners, cigarettes dangling from their lips.
The tall man rubs his head like he’s embarrassed. “The young lady must think we’re stupid. Show her the photos.”
The shorter man laughs and sets the bags on the floor. I catch brightly wrapped packages within. He fishes out his wallet and pulls out a photo.
I smile—it’s a family photo of the Lestes. God, Kian was so much younger back then. The baby fat on his face, so cute.
Clearing my throat, I eye the duo again. I bite my lip and make a decision.
“Stay here,” I murmur. “Let me check.”
The men sigh with clear relief. “Thank you, dear.”
I run back upstairs.
My vision refocuses on my cold, brutal husband staring at me with anguish.
“They were your relatives,” I whisper. “Your cousins.”
An icy chill slithers up my spine, up, up, up, until it wraps around my lungs.
“We don’t have cousins. We don’t have relatives in Albania, Lana.”
No. No. No. I clamp my hands over my ears. This can’t be.
The floor slants. My legs give out from under me.
Tears slide down my face. Faces flash behind my eyes—the small woman with a tired smile, his dad who’d give me a snack whenever I visited.
Cute little Beatrice, with her rolls and giggles, always bringing a grin to my face.
Sofia following me around, imitating the way I walk and talk, much to Kian’s embarrassment.
It was me.
No wonder Elias hates me. No wonder he’s avoided me like I was poison all these years. How can he not hate me?
Grief and guilt stab into my heart.
I led The Association straight to them. They couldn’t find the apartment because his dad had switched the numbers. His parents must’ve known danger was coming. I saw their packed bags by the door. The two men must’ve followed me.
I killed them. It didn’t matter whether it was ignorance or an accident. The result was the same.
Kian and Sofia became orphans overnight because of me.
“I-I’m so sorry,” I sob into my knees.
Fragments of the past slam into me, not letting me go.
Kian and I carving our message in the tree.
And years later, a towering, scarred man showing up at my family’s doorstep, his beautiful green eyes searing into mine.
The levers snap into place, the crisp clicking of the unsolvable puzzle finally revealing its answers.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, my mind mad with grief, my heart in tatters.
Warm, rough fingers tilt my chin up. A pained sound rumbles from Elias’s chest.
Then, his mouth crushes mine in a savage kiss.