Chapter 9 A Conflict of Interest #2
Ronan set the phone facedown on the table.
“Lucien will keep the family contained. The wedding is delayed. The groom has been warned off making her look unstable. The father is angry but rational. The aunt is angry and less rational, which Lucien believes is useful because she has focused most of it on Grant.”
“Good.”
Ronan’s gaze lifted. “Do not involve yourself with the groom.”
“He involved himself with her.”
“You do not know that.”
I looked at him.
Ronan sighed through his nose. “You know enough. That is worse.”
I knew the scent Grant had left on Cassie’s skin when she fell into the circle. I knew the way her body had sharpened when Lucien said Grant was already making her absence sound like instability.
I knew men.
Grant Carrington was the sort who cut with a smile and made the bleeding woman apologize for staining the floor.
My wolf wanted to meet him. The man did too.
That made restraint harder.
Ronan read my face. “If Grant Carrington dies today, this becomes impossible to manage.”
“I know.”
“If he is harmed today, this becomes difficult to manage.”
“I know.”
“If he is frightened badly enough to leave, call police, or stir the family, I will know where to look.”
“I said I know.”
“Good. Then hear this too. Cassie’s feelings about him are hers. Not yours. The harm he did before she fell into our world is not an invitation for your wolf to claim vengeance.”
My hands opened and closed once.
Ronan’s voice hardened. “Do you understand me?”
I did. I hated it, but I did. My wolf wanted to sort every threat around her into simple categories. Bite. Break. Remove. Protect.
Cassie would not thank me for turning her life into another territory dispute.
“Yes,” I said.
Sava finished making notes and came to the side of the bed. “I need her awake enough soon to assess memory, pain response, and neurological function.”
“No,” I said.
Both of them looked at me.
I forced my voice lower. “She needs sleep.”
“She needs both,” Sava said. “I will not interrogate her. I need to know whether the fever damaged her brain.”
Ronan moved to the door again. “I need to know what she remembers from the circle.”
My wolf rose.
Sava shot Ronan a look sharp enough to draw blood. “Not now.”
Cassie’s lashes moved, her eyes opening slowly. This time, she didn’t ask if she was dead. Progress, perhaps, though the bar was in hell. Her gaze moved across the room and found the door first. Then Ronan. Then me.
I had learned already that she looked at me last because I cost the most.
Her voice came rough from sleep. “Did I miss another vote on whether I’m inconvenient?”
Ronan didn’t answer.
Sava leaned over her. “You need water.”
“I need a less suspicious silence.”
Sava held the straw to her mouth. Cassie drank a little, winced, and turned her face away.
“Your father texted back,” Ronan said.
Her eyes sharpened. “Give me my phone.”
“Not yet.”
The monitor picked up speed and I stood before I could decide not to.
Cassie saw the movement and looked at me with bitter exhaustion. “Sit down, Cujo. I’m not fainting over a cellphone.”
I deserved that, so I sat.
Ronan’s mouth tightened, but he reached for the phone. “I will read it to you.”
“That is not the same.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “At least you’re consistent.”
He read the message without inflection.
Cassie closed her eyes when he reached the part about Aunt Linda, and a tear slipped sideways into her hair. She didn’t acknowledge it.
“Can I answer?” she asked.
Sava checked the monitor. “Short. No distressing details.”
“That eliminates my entire personality,” Cassie whispered.
Ronan handed her the phone but didn’t step away.
She typed slowly, one-handed. Her thumb trembled. The effort brought sweat to her upper lip, and the mark darkened along the edge of the bandage.
I gripped my own knee to keep from reaching for her.
She typed for nearly a minute, then held the phone toward Ronan without looking at him.
He read it.
“What did you write?” I asked.
Her eyes flicked to me. “Why?”
“Because if he stops worrying, you may rest.”
Something in her face changed. She didn’t soften. It was not that. She simply looked at me as if I had said something more human than she expected and she resented having to notice.
Ronan read aloud.
Dad, I am still here. I am not okay, but I am alive. They are being weird about visitors because of infection and liability. Please stay calm, which means do not let Linda improvise. I need you steady more than I need you loud. I love you.
Ronan looked at her. “Acceptable.”
“I am honored by the prison warden’s approval.”
He sent it.
A reply came almost at once.
Dad: Steady. I promise. Linda says she makes no promises but respects your phrasing.
For a moment, Cassie’s mouth trembled close to a smile. It vanished when Ronan took the phone back.
“Can I talk to Tessa?” she asked.
“No.”
Pain moved across her face, and this time it had nothing to do with the mark.
“She thinks this is her fault.”
Ronan said nothing.
I looked at him. “Let her send one message.”
Cassie’s expression closed. “I didn’t ask you to negotiate for me.”
I lowered my head once. “You are right.”
“I know I am right.”
There was the faintest thread of strength in that. I held on to it because it meant the fever had not taken all of her.
She turned back to Ronan. “My sister gets a message. Not because he said so. Because she is my sister, and because I chased her dog, and because she may be a selfish disaster with beautiful hair, but she is currently sitting somewhere thinking I might die because she asked me to be in a wedding she should have known better than to plan.”
Ronan stared at her and Cassie stared back. Her face was pale. Her hair tangled. Her body nearly broken by the night. She should have looked weak.
She didn’t. She looked pinned down, which was different, and pinned things could still have teeth.