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“A bit too late for Caden, isn’t it?” Her tone was bitter, merciless.
Weston’s shoulders tensed. He’d thought that after she’d cried, they would be able to talk, really talk, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. He reminded himself that she was grieving.
“Twelve years.” Rose sighed. “And it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It does matter.”
“No, it doesn’t. You got Tabby out. Caden’s dead. It’s over.”
“What about you?”
“Me? I’m broken inside.”
Broken by Caden’s death?
“Time,” he said simply. “I can give you time. I was too late to save Caden, but I’m not going to stop. My parents need to pay for what they’ve done, and once I take them and the other purists down, you’ll have the time you need to grieve for Caden and put the pieces back together.”
“Pieces,” she sounded out the word. Weston could see on her face that the word brought back a memory.
“Elroy just told me we’re all pieces in some chess game.” Weston and Rose huddled on the floor together, whispering like children. “They’re players, we’re just pieces.”
Her gaze searched his face. “What piece am I?”
He wouldn’t lie to her. “A pawn.”
She nodded, as if that made sense, and dropped her hands and her gaze. He picked up her hands, pressed them back to his cheeks. “You’re all that matters, Brown Eyes. They’re nothing to me. We’re not their chess pieces. Not anymore.”
“Caden thought he was one of the players, but we were always just pieces.” She turned to him with hard, glittering eyes. “Am I your pawn now, Weston?”
