Chapter 33
Lincoln
Four Years Ago
Oblivion doesn’t feel as I imagined. Warmth radiates from my neck, and restraints cover my wrists. Flashes of Cicero assault my mind, clips of the life I lived replaying in my mind as I die.
Then, nothing…
There’s a sound, almost like a dripping, coming from somewhere. But I can’t open my eyes, refusing to see what awaits me. An eternity waiting for Quinnly stretches out before me–
“Quit your fucking moaning,” a stern voice hushes me and cuts off my thoughts. “You’re alive, for now.”
Slowly, giving my eyes time to adjust, I find Cicero standing over me.
His gray hair’s down, flowing around his face as he leans over the bed I’m on.
His hands work the bandages at my throat, ripping the adhesive off, and doesn’t apologize for the pain as most would.
Instead he grabs new dressings and applies them to the wound.
“Infection set in,” he says, “I’ve kept ice packs on it for days.”
The heat. It’s coming from the wound his granddaughter left. My lips part, ready to explain–
“Save your tongue,” he warns, “I’ve had the best doctor I know come look, and even she doesn’t know if she saved your voice or not.”
A life of silence doesn’t sound too bad… then again, will I ever have the chance to tell Quinnly I’ve known her for years? That I’ve loved her, even when she didn’t know me?
“Quinnly did this,” Cicero doesn’t pose it as a question, but rather stating a fact. “Why would she do this?”
My eyes find his, and he waves his hands realizing I can’t answer. My muscles feel weak, as if stitching pieces of my body back together has made me frail everywhere.
“You’re lucky I’ve got some rather good connections,” he points to a wall, one I recognize as part of his underground playroom in his home. All the weapons loaded onto the wall, the whetstone he uses to sharpen his blades.
I have too many questions, but I remain still, simply lowering my brows in question.
“The shackles are for your own good, I couldn’t have you hurting yourself or Lady Hemlock.” His lips tip up along with a brow at my confused expression. “You think Quinnly just happened to stumble upon a job working for one of the biggest mobster families in the US?”
“I knew something shady was going on, so after a while I followed you both to North Carolina, and thank fuck I did.” He scoffs, pulling up a chair beside the bed he must have brought down here.
“I wouldn’t save just anyone, Lincoln. When I saw Quinnly skipping out of that cabin, after she left you, I knew you hadn’t fought her.
Hadn’t harmed her in any way, even as she ripped open your throat. ”
I close my eyes in a longer than typical blink in answer.
“You could have, I know you could have. Yet, she walked away without a scratch, and the only rational explanation I can come up with is that you’re in love with her.”
I nod, the motion small, but readable in my eyes. I suspect he’s known for a long time that my obsession turned into admiration, which became lust and eventually love.
“She’s going to need you, I’m not sure how many years I have left.”
I want to ask him what he means, no one knows how long they have to live. Unless…
“Cancer,” he confirms when my eyes slide back his way.
“I’ve known for years. Lady Hemlock has been keeping me updated on all the inner workings that doctors don’t like to tell people with my condition.
” He spits, standing from the chair and stopping in front of the door.
“You’ll recover here, Quinnly will be away, so there will be no chance of her discovering you. ”
It took months, and each month he took care of me it looked as if it cost him more. Then, when I was finally healed, rehabilitated under the roof of Cicero Sage, he told me how little time he had.
That Quinnly was coming back, despite his reassurances that he was fine.
Naomi must have been too busy to notice Cicero’s failing health until it was drastic, which happens sometimes when people are just busy.
“When I die, I need you to promise me that you will stay with her. Protect her, even from herself.”
His words pressed against my heart, wrapped around the organ, and squeezed.
“You are the only person I trust with her.”
I got another two years with Cicero, but the last few months he wasted away, and like always I watched from the shadows as the cancer ate him alive. He wasn’t himself, and I could see Quinnly couldn’t process all the things the at home nurses were telling her.
And then, after one last night with him, Cicero Sage was dead.