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Only one theory sits heavily on my shoulders.
Seamus.
The meeting went ahead, I know that much, and while it’s unclear whether a ceasefire agreement was reached, he’s the only one outside of my circle who posed a risk. He must have screwed me over, let slip that we had been working together in some way or another. Seamus is a direct man, but news of our alliance would barely threaten him.
Me? It paints me as a traitor. To Aleksander’s credit, it wouldn’t be such a leap for him to assume I had something to do with Alena’s disappearance.
He’s right, of course.
“Seamus?” Nastja asks. “I knew we could never trust that bastard.”
Just the sound of his name makes my jaw snap shut, and a surge of rage warps through my system. Everything is crumbling, but like hell am I going down without a fight.
“I don’t know,” I say tightly, and my hands clench. “I haven’t heard from him since that call. All I know is Aleksander’s plane touched down here a couple of hours ago. From this point forward, anyone outside of this Manor is considered against us.”
“Don’t suppose we can play dumb?” Nastja asks, glancing at Alena. “Sneak her out through the tunnels or something?”
“And go where?” I snap. “Where the fuck can we go, Nastja?”
She concedes with a drop of her shoulders, then rolls her eyes. “He hasn’t left the States in years. What sort of power play is he trying to show here?”
“Fuck knows. Maybe he wants to show the Family here how strong he is. I haven’t understood his motivations for years.”
“Wait,” Alena pipes up, and slowly, she stands. “Who is Seamus?”
There’s too much to say and not enough time. I can’t even fathom what Alena will think about the Irish.
“No one,” I say, settling on keeping her in the dark for a little longer.
“He’s clearly someone?—.
“I said he’s no one!”
Alena flinches at my yell, and I bite my cheek, restraining myself. She’s not the source or cause of my fury, and I can’t take it out on her. I approach her and clasp her shoulders, detecting a tremble moving through her body.
“I’m sorry,” I say as calmly as I can muster. “I don’t have time. Your father is here, and he–he will come and take you back. It’s the only reason he would come himself.”
“No!” Alena’s eyes widen, and she reaches up, clutching onto my forearms. “Please, you can’t send me back.”
“I would never?—”
“I don’t want to go back, not to them, please. That life was suffocating and cold. I was so alone and trapped. I don’t want to go back there, please. I don’t care about my father or what he thinks. I don’t care about anything else, please. Kristof, don’t let him take me back. I love you, I want to stay by your side!”
I love you.
Three little words that make my heart stop in its tracks. My soul calms for a warm half of a second that stretches on like all of eternity.
Alena loves me.
She said it.
She said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was something we said to each other on a regular basis.
Not in the throes of love or whispered in the darkness like a promise. She barks it out like a prayer, full of heat and passion and tinged with determination.
I want to treasure this moment forever, to savor how those words taste in the air between us. Bottle it up so I can cling to it whenever I need strength. In all my dreams, all my months obsessing over her, she remained this beautiful fantasy who would accept me. Care for me.
But love?
