32. A Storm at Whitby Rose
“ D addy? Nox?” I breathe.
Nox looks murderous, and my dad’s chest heaves like he’s run through fire just to burn everything down behind him. Which, considering his history, wouldn’t be that off-brand.
“Ah, Mr. Bordeaux.” Bossie claps once, her time-worn voice syrupy sweet like a Southern belle at brunch. “Everyone simmer down now.”
All weapons lower a fraction, but the air stays charged, like the chapel holds its breath right along with me.
“So glad you got my invitation, Solomon.”
“You mean this?” Dad lifts bloody stationary between two fingers, his hand slightly trembling. Not from cold or fear. From rage .
A pit forms in my stomach as he snarls, “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Ruth.”
“Call me Bossie, hon. Everyone does,” she chuckles, but he ignores her.
“You left this on one of my men’s bodies. A man you killed.” His hard voice falters. “A boy . Benoit was like a son to me. And you?—”
He chokes like he’s drowning, and his sorrow drags me under with him.
My chest swells, my eyes burn, and I ache to reach for him, Nox, and Orion, to hold on for all of us.
But relief and adrenaline have drained me, leaving my body weak.
It’s all I can do to keep standing. Collapsing now would break their concentration when it seems they’re already hanging on by a thread.
Because I see it now. I see everything Dad and Nox are trying to bury beneath rage. Red rims their eyes, their jaws twitch from being clenched too long, fists curled around their guns, knuckles blanched. And underneath all of it lies raw, bone-weary grief.
Dad hadn’t reacted much when Orion told him about Benoit, but I think I know why. With my arms literally holding my grief at the time, he must have forced a brave face for me.
And then he had the impossible task of breaking the news to my twin that his best friend is dead. Murdered. I have no doubt Nox has been changed fundamentally, irrevocably, in ways I’ll only understand on the surface.
Now Dad holds the evidence of our heartbreak in his hand, drenched in Benoit’s blood, all because this woman ordered it.
“I am sorry about that,” Bossie says like she’s commenting on the storm that’s opening up outside to drown us all.
I want to fling her tiny body out the window and let the elements finish her.
“But he stood in the way of my family’s business.
And nothing gets in the way of family business. Surely you understand.”
“Family business ?” I hiss, my skin hot. “Benoit was family. Our family.”
Dad snarls with me. “And what the hell do the Bordeauxs have to do with Wilde ‘family business’?”
Bossie tuts. “You’ve cursed in my presence for the last time, Mr. Bordeaux. I won’t have that language in a house of God.”
Dad’s nostrils flare, and for a second I swear I see smoke curl out of them. My own breathing sounds loud in my ears as I wait for him to combust.
But then his gaze finds me, dismissing her. He softens and beckons me with one hand.
“Come on, ma luné . We’re getting the fuck?—”
Click.
Every weapon in the room snaps toward him and Nox.
“Stop! Please!” I scream, lunging for Bart’s gun. I’m easily shoved aside like I’m nothing, and pain shoots up my ankle as I hit the ground with a cry.
“Luna!” Orion shouts along with my dad and Nox.
“Quiet.” Bossie lifts her hand.
A heavy, weighted silence follows for a full breath. Then she shrugs, a genteel smile cresting her lips like she’s helpless to stop the violence she set in motion.
“Until your daddy speaks with respect, I can’t help my boys defending me. They’re only doin’ what they’ve been taught.” Her narrowed eyes slide between me and my dad. “Miss Luna, I don’t think he quite understands the gravity of our little situation here.”
His eyes slam shut, a vein throbbing in his forehead as the rest of him vibrates with rage.
My tongue turns to ash, on the verge of begging him not to push further.
It takes him several long, controlled breaths before he lifts his gaze again.
His real eye is as flat and cold as the prosthetic beside it.
“You’re right, Bossie. Please. Enlighten me.”
Her tone gentles like my grand-meré’s when she chided me about pralines before dinner.
“We’re here to make a truce, dear.”
“A truce?” Orion scoffs hoarsely from across the room. “After this ?”
“I have to second that,” Dad growls, thunder punctuating the rumble. “This is a joke, right?”
“I don’t joke over truces, Solomon.” She gestures toward me, and the hair on the back of my neck rises.
“From what I hear, your daughter’s a mighty important piece in this here feud.
We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to finally beat the King Furys once and for all.
We’ve been playing children’s games thus far. ”
Her eyes glitter as she leans forward. “But allies like the Troisgarde would destroy the Furys’ power once and for all.
” She chuckles, leaning back. “And to think, we considered attacking you. Almost threw the baby out with the bathwater. Good thing rumors fly like crows around here. We wouldn’t have known about the Troisgarde daughters pact at all if one hadn’t squawked. ”
My lip curls at the thought of a Troisgarde snitch. The flare in Dad’s eyes is the only sign that he’s shocked she’s confirming everything Orion warned him about. No one wants to believe they have a traitor in their midst.
The flicker is gone in a blink before he seethes. “I’ve already told King, but I’ll tell you too. A drunken bet does not make a pact. The Troisgarde wants no part in your feud. We’ve fought long and hard in our own territories, but after two decades, we’ve finally achieved peace?—”
“ And we have never known peace! ” Bossie explodes from her seat in a fit of speed that makes me scramble back.
“You speak of decades, Bordeaux?” Spit flies from her lips, a sliver of hair escapes from her bun. “Try centuries .”
She stands regally now, posture straight, her cane forgotten against the throne. Her wrinkles vanish in flickering firelight and shadows, like her hate has forged her into something immortal.
“You have felt pain. You wear it clear on your face, and I commend you for that.” She nods toward the side of my father that will forever remain burn-scarred. “But until you’ve felt the spirit leave your child’s brutalized body on one last breath…”
She shakes her head. My hands clench tighter at the memory of Benoit’s weight, suddenly too heavy in my arms.
“Until you’ve felt that ,” she whispers. “Do not speak to me of decades. Do not speak to me of fighting. Do not speak to me of peace . I have lost more than you could ever imagine and clawed my way out of hell more times than I can count, all before you were even born. You know nothing of war.”
She returns to her throne, the tremble of her fingers the only thing betraying her age.
The clean-shaven guard slips the cane back into her hand, and she lowers herself onto the white pew with a long, breathy sigh.
Her chin lifts as if a crown were placed atop her head, a queen presiding over judgment.
“So now… we’re doing it your way. You promised to hand over your firstborn daughter in a dadgum drunken card game.
That might not count as a pact in the Troisgarde’s eyes, but ’round here, we’ve been enforcing moonshine vows for generations.
” She flicks her hand like that point doesn’t matter.
“Even so, your daughter was in her right mind when she agreed to marry a Wilde.”
Her words rattle the rafters and settle in my bones, and Orion’s growl rips through the thick air.
“No! She didn’t know. She never would’ve been with him if she’d known the truth.”
I would’ve been with you , I want to say. Regret surges through my veins, so quickly it makes me lightheaded. If I weren’t already on my knees, I’d crumple to the ground.
Bossie doesn’t acknowledge him, her focus staying on my dad.
“Those are the terms of my truce. You’d be wise to agree to them. Life for life is meant to be much, much worse for her.”
“Luna is innocent,” Orion insists, his raw voice scraping me from the inside out. “If life for life is what you want, then take me instead.”
“Orion, no,” I whisper, my heart twisting.
“I got you into this feud, Luna.” His eyes find mine. “I never wanted the pact to be your curse, but that’s all it’s been for you. That’s all I’ve been for you. Let me break it.” He swallows hard, and my hand presses to my throat in sympathy. “Let me set you free.”
“ No .” A painful shudder racks through me as I shake my head.
Bossie huffs. “Believe me, young Fury, we’re gonna get to you.”
Dad’s measured gaze drags from Orion to glare at Bossie.
“My daughter’s not marrying anyone she doesn’t want to.
And I have a feeling that boy—” His jaw clenches as he points to Orion who’s straining against his ropes.
“—and I will both burn this church to the ground with all of you Wildes in it before letting that happen. Your truce would go up in smoke, and I’d use every resource at my disposal to annihilate the rest of the ‘Bossie Wilde kin.’”
A shiver runs through me at the cold venom in his voice, but his defiance and the agreement in Orion’s eyes steadies me. I believe every word, but Bossie just chuckles.
“You highfalutin folks always think you’ve got the upper hand. But look around you, Mr. Bordeaux.”
She sweeps her arms over the chapel, and my eyes track them automatically.
My stomach knots as I finally register how dire our situation actually is.
It’s my father, Nox, Orion, and me… against twelve armed men.
Bart towers over me, two guard Bossie, and there are two more behind Orion.
Seven others stand watch near Dad and Nox, looming from the shadows among the pushed-aside pews.
The back of my neck burns like a spotlight’s fixed on me alone. It might as well be, since the death of my freedom is the star of this shitshow.