Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
marlowe
Two days since the warehouse rescue, and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces of my shattered life.
Lola’s home from the vet, wearing a cone and hating every second of it. The bullet grazed him but didn’t hit anything vital. He’ll be fine. Mean as ever in a few weeks.
Raffy’s scratch is healing. He’s been extra clingy with Cal and Lucie, following them around like a shadow. Can’t blame the kid. But he’s safe and sound.
And Declan...
He hasn’t left my side since the warehouse. But he’s different. Distant. He watches me when he thinks I’m not looking. I’ve caught a haunted expression on his face more times than I can count, and it makes my chest ache. He touches me like I might shatter. Even though that’s already happened.
And he hasn’t tried to fuck me once.
So far from normal, I don’t even know what to do with it.
We haven’t really talked. Just surface stuff. Logistics. Who’s handling what.
Something’s wrong. I can feel it building between us like pressure before a storm.
My mother shows up to the brownstone in the morning. She arrives in a black Town Car. Perfectly dressed. Perfectly composed.
Cloris Briggs doesn’t do disheveled. Not even when her daughter was just kidnapped by a cartel-connected psychopath.
Lucie leads us into the study where it’s private and quiet, away from the kids and animals.
Mom sits on the leather couch like she’s posing for a portrait. I take the chair across from her. A shiver at the chill that slips down my spine, the familiar distance between us making me feel a twinge of sadness.
“Marlowe,” she says in a quiet voice. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look exhausted.”
“Really, Mom? I was drugged, tied up, and held at knifepoint by someone I thought was my friend. How else would you expect me to look?”
She flinches.
Good. She should feel lucky that I’m holding back all the other things I want to say right now.
She looks down at her hands. “I came as soon as I heard what happened. I was in Tokyo when—”
“I know where you were. Declan told me. You’re always somewhere.”
More heavy silence. The clock on the mantel ticks. My pulse thrums in my ears.
“They found your father,” she says finally.
“I know. He’s been on a private island, the one he bought for me. Living it up while Leon was using me to try to find him.” The bitterness burns my throat. “Did you know? About the gambling? The cartel debts?”
Mom’s composure cracks. The tiniest bit.
“I suspected. Your father always had... vices. The gambling, the women. I thought I could manage it. Contain it.” She looks down at her hands. “I didn’t know how bad it had gotten until he disappeared.”
“You knew about the threats against us. The danger we were facing.” My heart pounds harder with each word. “And you didn’t tell me about any of it. Declan showed up offering protection, and you just packed my bags and shipped me off without any explanation as to why.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By keeping me in the dark. Like always.” My anger-infused words rip the air. “You let me walk around with a target on my back without knowing why. I didn’t know who was after me or what Daddy had done. I had to piece it together myself while people were trying to kill me.”
“I didn’t want to frighten you—”
“I was already frightened. I just didn’t know the real reason why. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Being hunted and not understanding what’s happening?”
I’m on my feet before I realize I’ve moved. “But that was just more evidence of you trying to control me, every last aspect of my perfectly curated life.”
“Marlowe, I was only trying to make sure you had a better future than I did. I wanted to give you everything because I know from experience how hard it is when you have nothing.”
I shake my head. “I’m not you, Mom. I want a life of my own. I want to make my own choices, live according to my dreams. The ballet, Mom? That was your dream. Not mine.”
Her eyes go wide.
“You bought my way into big roles because you couldn’t accept that maybe, just maybe, I wanted something different.” My voice shakes. I don’t care. “I’m good at dance. I work hard. My feet bleed and I cry, and I push through because that’s what you expect. But it was never what I wanted.”
“I didn’t know you felt—”
“Because you never asked.” I spin to face her. “You decided what my life would be. Ballet lessons at five. Company auditions at sixteen. It was grueling. And when Daddy disappeared and danger came knocking, you decided again. Bodyguard. Fake husband. Keep Marlowe safe in her little gilded cage.”
My chest heaves. Blood roars in my ears.
Mom is quiet for a long minute.
“You’re right,” she finally says.
I freeze. “What?”
“I said you’re right.” Her voice is broken. Filled with emotion. Nothing like the ice queen I know. “I’ve controlled your life. I told myself it was for your own good, that I knew better, that you needed guidance. But the truth is...”
She raises a shaking hand to smooth down the back of her hair.
“I was afraid. Afraid you’d make the same mistakes I did. Afraid you’d end up with nothing, like I had nothing before I married your father.”
“Mom—”
“I came from nothing, Marlowe. You know that.” She looks up at me, and—
Holy shit.
Tears. There are actual tears in Cloris Briggs’s eyes.
“I built everything I have through sheer force of will, and I was terrified of watching you throw away all the opportunities I created for you.” Her voice cracks. “But I was wrong. You’re not me. You never were. And I should have let you find your own path.”
I don’t know what to say. This isn’t the mother I know. This is someone vulnerable, soft even. I have no idea what to do with this version of my mom.
She’s giving signs of being…human.
“I’m done letting you control me.” My voice comes out quiet. Steady. “The ballet, the marriage, where I live, what I do. Those are my choices now. Mine.”
“I know.” She stands. Straightens her skirt. “And I’m sorry. For all of it.”
“It’s going to take more than sorry.”
“I know that too.” She hesitates. “But I’d like to try, if you’ll let me.”
She takes me by the arms and gives them a little squeeze, like she knows I’m not ready for hugs.
“I’d like that, too.”
It’s not forgiveness. Not yet.
But it’s a start.
“Roark’s been in contact with Ignacius Fuentes. Leon’s father.” Mom pauses. “Apparently, he’s... grateful that someone dealt with his son. He’s offered to negotiate with Cinco on your father’s behalf.”
“Grateful his son is dead?”
“Leon was an embarrassment to the family. A traitor who worked for a rival cartel.” Her mouth thins. “Ignacius couldn’t kill him himself. Declan mentioned some superstition about his dead wife’s spirit, but he’s definitely not mourning his son.”
Jesus. These people.
“So what happens to Daddy’s debt?”
“It transfers to Roja. A different kind of arrangement, but one that can be managed. It will be paid off over time with legitimate business dealings.” She pauses. “The immediate threat is over. Cinco won’t come after him anymore. After any of us. We’re safe.”
“So he can come home?”
“If he chooses to.” Her eyes drop. “Your father and I have a lot to work through. I don’t know if we can. But at least the danger is past.”
I nod. The relief should be overwhelming.
Instead, I just feel tired. So fucking tired.
Mom leans toward me and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Then she holds a hand against the side of my face. “Talk to Declan. Whatever’s wrong between you two, don’t let it fester. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That man would burn down the world for you. He’s already proven it.”
My heart clenches. “He’s been distant since the warehouse mess.”
“Then find out why.” She hesitates then pulls me into an awkward hug. Stiff. Neither of us knows quite where to put our arms. But I…I like it. I needed it.
“Fight for what you want, Marlowe. Don’t make my mistakes.”
I find Declan in his room later that night.
He’s standing by the window, looking out at the city. He doesn’t turn when I come in.
“We need to talk,” I say.
“I know.”
I inch forward until I’m beside him. My pulse pounds. Something’s coming. I can feel it.
“Whatever’s going on with you, whatever you’re thinking, I need you to tell me. Because the silence is killing me.”
He’s quiet. Too quiet.
Then he turns to face me, and his eyes are blue-green ice.
“Your father’s been found. He’s safe. The debt’s being handled. Cinco won’t come after him anymore.” His spine stiffens. “So that’s it. The threats are gone. No more fake marriage. No more bodyguard.”
My gut twists, ice flooding my veins.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re free, Marlowe.”
Free.
The word hits like a slap.
“There’s no reason for you to stay. There’s no more danger. You can go back to your life. Figure out what you actually want to do now that your mam’s backing off.”
I stare at him. This isn’t—I came here ready to fight for us. Ready to tell him I love him. That I’m not going anywhere.
And he’s pushing me away?
“I don’t want to go back to my old life.” My voice shakes. “I want you.”
Pain flickers across his face.
Then it’s gone.
“You almost died because of me. Because of what I am. What my family is.” His voice is rough. Hard. “Leon took you to get to me. You had a knife at your throat because you’re my wife. That’s not a life, Marlowe. That’s just another cage.”
“Don’t I get to decide that?”
“You’re letting adrenaline and trauma make your decisions. Give it time. You’ll see I’m right.”
Fury. Hot and bright in my chest.
“So that’s it? You rescue me and then throw me away?”
“I’m not throwing you away. I’m setting you free.”
“It’s the same fucking thing!”
He doesn’t answer. Just stands there. Jaw tight. Eyes distant.
“Why?” I demand. “Tell me the real reason. Not this noble bullshit about keeping me safe.”
Silence stretches between us, long and heavy.