Chapter 18
Ballard escorted me out of the cellar without so much as a word. Not that I had any to give. Calia’s parting barbs had taken everything away.
I struggled to reconcile the woman I knew with the woman who had stood before me. So many things seemed to change in the short time we were apart, but I knew better than anyone how secrets could alter your perspective of a person better than most.
She had every right to hate me; that was the only truth keeping me from stealing her away.
We walked up to the floor level of a quaint but rather exquisitely decorated cottage. The living area was open, boasting furnishings crafted of ebony wood and well-worn silver accents. Vines of ivy ran along the ceiling, ensconcing the structure as though nature”s hand could keep it hidden.
“Where are we?” I asked, marveling at the simple, raw beauty of it.
“Safehouse,” Ballard replied, scratching the back of his neck. “But I guess it isn’t so safe any longer.”
“You think I would use this against you? My wi—Calia is here. I would never jeopardize her safety.”
Ballard considered my words, mulling them over until he gave a satisfied nod. “There’s much I wish to tell you, Rion, but I will confess that I hated turning you away when you came to me. Castor’s prejudices run deep, and he’s passed that trait onto his niece. But he will come around—they both will. I think this was just a shock that they both need to figure out how to navigate.”
“I do not know if she will hear me out,” I whispered. “And I do not know if I would deserve it if she did.”
“Give it time. She will come around.”
“Time is not a luxury we can afford.”
“You do not need her to forgive you in order to work together. But perhaps it would be a start—a way to show her you’ve learned from the events that took place. I don’t know the details, nor do I care to, but I can tell you that true, soul-deep love cannot be broken. Fractured, yes, but never irrevocably destroyed. If what you have is the real thing… Well, there may be hope for you yet.”
He opened the front door and ushered me out, where a car waited. “Your friends have been assured of your safety. They should be waiting at your home.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out my phone. “You will hear from us soon.”
“How soon is soon, Ballard? We cannot afford to sit on our asses and twiddle our thumbs. Leonora is out there, doing gods only know what. She’s attacked us once, and I do not think it will be the last.”
“I will do my part to ensure my… companions will be ready to speak in a few hours. We will meet at your manor at midnight.”
“Do you truly think she will be ready to sit in the same room as me so soon?”
“I think at the end of the day, regardless of how she may feel at the moment, or the unresolved issues that lay between you, she wants to stop your mother just as much as anyone else.” He smiled. “Even if that means sitting in the same room as you.”
Though likely not his intention, Ballard’s words gave me hope. Hope that she might listen to me. Hope that we could quiet the raging storm between us. “I appreciate you,” I say, dipping my head. “I have given you no reason to be kind, but you have done so anyway.”
His eyes softened. “There is always a reason to be kind, Rion. And I think you are more worthy than you let yourself believe. I knew your father, however briefly, and he was a good man. Knowing you were left to deal with Leonora in her absence…” Ballard shook his head softly. “There is strength in you that may end up saving us all.”
There were no words I could offer, so I simply nodded and slid into the back of the car, watching the idyllic cottage fade into the distance.
Jasper steppedout of the house with a furious scowl before my car had come to a stop. “I told you!” He seethed. “I told you not to follow him, to let him go, but you didn’t listen. And why would you? Why would my opinion mean anything to a man who holds his own so high? Gods above, Rion?—”
His tirade stopped the moment I stepped out of the vehicle. I did not know what I looked like, but I could imagine what he saw. Worry creased his brows as he took me in. “Are you?—”
“She is alive,” I whispered hoarsely, bringing my gaze to meet his. “Calia is alive.”
He stepped forward. “How?”
“I do not know.”
Jasper launched forward, wrapping me in a hug and clapping my back. “Holy shit! You were right! Gods, I’m so sorry, I—” He pulled back, frowning at my lack of enthusiasm. “Wait, why aren’t we celebrating? Where is she?”
I looked down at the ground, ashamed to meet my brother’s eyes. On so many occasions, he had tried to convince me to tell Calia the truth. But I was stubborn. I had assumed I knew better. She would not have wanted me if she had known the truth. That shame was to be mine and mine alone. Now I understood how foolish that was—Calia was far better than I deserved. My insecurities had destroyed us before we had even begun.
“Because I kept the truth from her. She does not trust me. I do not know if she ever will.”
“Of course, she will! She loves you, Rion. Don’t doubt that. I watched it happen and consider myself privileged to witness the birth of something so profound.”
I strode past him into the manor, unable to talk any more about the matter. The more I did, the more I convinced myself I was not worth forgiving. It forced me to face my faults, and I did not like what I saw.
“Hey! Wait! You can’t drop something like that on me and then walk away!” He said, running to catch up with me.
Like a dog with a bone, I swear. The only way to stop him from harassing me about the matter was to give him something else to focus on. “Ballard, Castor, and Calia will arrive at midnight to discuss matters regarding Leonora. I assume they have vital information we need to track her down.”
“They are coming here?” he echoed. “Why are they coming here? And why is Ballard working with Castor?”
“I assume in an effort to showcase good faith. I did not ask anything more than necessary,” I said, walking toward my bathroom.
He leaned against the doorframe as I removed my clothes and stepped into the shower. We had seen each other in far worse and more compromising positions than this. It was fruitless to ask him to leave, especially when I knew he would do no such thing. “Did you ask any questions at all?” he mumbled.
I had, but none that pertained to this meeting. Frankly, I did not give two shits about what Jasper had asked. Not when Calia was the sole focus of my thoughts, the object of my fixation. Thinking about anything else would have proven useless. “I apologize. I was too preoccupied with finding out my dead wife was alive to ask the proper questions,” I shot back, leaning to peer at him from behind the fogged glass.
To his credit, he winced. “Right. That makes sense. So, tell me what happened.”
I braced my hands along the tiled wall, letting the scalding water rain down on me. Could I rehash everything? Did I have a choice?
No, I did not.
It did not matter that thinking about Calia’s harsh words and rage-filled gaze felt like dragging a serrated blade through my stomach. Jasper needed to understand the dynamic and what had happened in order to be prepared. There had been enough secrets, enough things I should have said. If I had learned anything from what happened between Calia and me, it was that those I love deserve my honesty—even if it causes me pain.
So, I spent the next five minutes reliving every detail—from Castor confronting me in the Market to overhearing his conversation with Ballard. I stumbled over my interaction with Calia, trying and failing to keep the sorrow out of my voice as I spoke.
As I finished, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my waist, I was thankful for the water droplets that hid the lone tear that had fallen. Jasper said nothing, undoubtedly analyzing every morsel of information I had given him. I was thankful he had not pushed me for more because I was not sure if there was any more I could give him.
Jasper walked toward the doorway, pausing in a silent acknowledgment of my pain. “I’m going to let the girls know about our impending visitors. I’m sure they’ll both want to be present,” Jasper said, excusing himself as I went to my closet.
Silently, I stared at the colors of my clothing—or lack thereof. They reminded me of what my life had been like before Calia stormed into it: lifeless, unchanging, and monotonous. I traced my finger along the bright pink hair tie that had found its permanent home on my wrist.
Unbeknownst to me, Calia was the infusion of color that I had been missing. I had not minded the path I walked, thinking it to be my only option. I believed what my mother had always told me—that I had one job, one purpose: to serve my family no matter the cost. She said there was no room for anything else, especially things she deemed frivolous, such as relationships.
Now that I had experienced what I had been denied for so long, the thought of letting it go scared the shit out of me. I could not make Calia love me again—not after what I had done, what I had kept from her.
So, I was destined to lose it anyway.
I glanced down at the band, my stomach twisting at the tiny flecks of Castor’s blood marring the surface. “No, no, no,” I said quietly, rushing to the sink in my bathroom and grabbing my soap.
This was all I had left. The only piece of her I knew I could keep, and it had been tainted by my selfish acts of violence.
I scrubbed endlessly, lathering the hair tie with soap and praying for the best. Yet, the stains did not come out, no matter how hard I tried. “Come on, you stupid fucker,” I gritted out. My frustration built with each passing second, refusing to abate even for a moment. And how could it? Not when this seemingly insignificant object was so precious to me.
“It’s rude to?—”
I turned abruptly, seeing Calia standing in my doorway, gawking at me. Her hair seemed straighter than I remembered, falling over her shoulder in a crimson sheet. Her chest rose and fell, pupils dilating as her gaze shifted down my body. A body, I realized, which was only donning a towel.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, still standing in the doorway. “I’ll just—“ She went to turn but halted as she looked at what I was holding. “What is that?” she asked, pointing at my hand.
I closed my eyes, embarrassed that she had found me like this. “Nothing,” I said, hiding the hair tie behind my back in hopes she would leave.
Of course, my ever-curious wife was not satisfied by that answer.
Calia stood firm, crossing her arms in defiance. “You seemed awfully upset when I walked in. So, what are you trying to hide from me?” She quirked a brow when I did not respond. “Yet another secret, I see. It seems you haven’t learned anything from our time apart.”
“Wait!” I called out, earning her attention once more. “When I say it is nothing, I only meant that you will likely think I am foolish for holding it in such esteem.” I produced the pink hair tie, still lathered in soap, on my palm and held it out to her. “I found this a few days after, well, after that night. I was standing in my closet, attempting to figure out how to face the day, when I noticed this on the floor. It smelled like you.”
“And why were you scrubbing it like a madman? Are you trying to get rid of my scent? I can just take it back, you know, if it pains you that much.”
She stepped forward, but I closed my fist. “No, of course, not.” I ran my free hand through my hair. This was the time, to be honest, to show her how utterly pathetic I was when it came to her. Perhaps she would not care. She might even ridicule me.
The truth was, I no longer knew the woman standing in front of me. Even if a short time had passed, I was sure whatever she went through had thoroughly changed her. I had seen it in her eyes, even in the darkness of the basement. It would have changed even the strongest of souls. “It was the only thing I had left of you,” I whispered, meeting her sunlit forest gaze. “And so, it became my most prized possession.”
She sucked in a breath, her body tightening in surprise. The sound of her racing heart had my own matching the erratic beat. “I was cleaning it because I realized in the fray with your uncle that it had been stained with flecks of blood, but no matter what I try, it will not come off.” And now, not only was it ruined, but her scent was gone from the fabric.
I was not sure which was worse.
“Oh,” she said, breaking her gaze away. “I must have dropped it.”
“Would you like it back?” I asked, quickly realizing I had no idea if this was important to her. It would seem like a silly idea, but the item meant the world to me. Who was I to judge what others held in reverence?
Calia shook her head, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips. It did not reach her haunted eyes, the still-wary glaze staying firmly in place. “No, you can keep that one. I have plenty. Always have one on hand. Literally,” she joked, holding up her wrist where two sat—one purple and one bright blue. “I’ll just be downstairs with the others. When Jasper told me you were up here, I didn’t… Well, I thought you’d be decent.” Fucking Jasper. She gestured toward my body, looking away as though in embarrassment. But I caught the subtle way her teeth tugged at her lip, the way her cheeks flushed.
As she walked away, I reached out with my mind, careful not to raise any suspicion of my intentions. Her shields were well and truly up, but they melted slightly at my gentle, reverent touch. Perhaps all was not as lost as I assumed, though I refused to allow hope to bloom too quickly.