Page 6 of Consume Me

That was all I was now without her.

My fingers fumbled on the silk, seeking her out and knowing they’d never touch her again. Soon, her scent would fade from it. Soon she would fade from my life, but never my memories. Soon that was what Clara would become: a collection of moments remembered.

The robe fell from my hands as bile burned up my throat. I retched onto the floor until I was as physically empty as I felt.

The door opened and Edward peered in at me. His eyes found the pile of sick and the robe lying next to it. He didn’t speak as he crossed to me and knelt. My arms found my brother and clung to him.

“We’re going to find her,” he promised me softly.

“What if we don’t?” I asked. There were more permutations to this question. What if we did but it was too late? What if he found her and she was…? What if we were wrong? What if we couldn’t?

“We will,” he said with the conviction of a man who hadn’t had his soul stripped from his body. I had no strength left to believe, and I forced myself to draw from his. “Maybe you should lie down.”

I shook my head. There would be no rest without her. Part of me wanted to crawl into the bed we shared and lose myself to memories of her body pressed to mine. Part of me wanted to burn this room to the ground. Neither would bring her back to me.

There was no faith left inside me, but searching myself I found something more valuable: determination. Cold, unyielding determination. I didn’t know what had happened to my wife, but I knew what I would do to get her back. There were no lengths I wouldn’t go to find her. There was no crime I wouldn’t commit. There was no sin too great and no sacrifice too large. I would do anything. I was capable of anything. And when I found who took her, I would crush the life from them myself. One person. Ten. A hundred. It would be my hands that stole their last breath.

“Find Smith,” I said, “Brex. Georgia. I need to speak to them alone.”

“And me?” Edward asked without a hint of frustration. He’d been kept out of plenty of private meetings.

This time it was up to him to decide. “You need to know how far I’ll take this. I will do anything to get her back.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “Me, too.”

I drew back and studied him, wondering if that was true and then considering whether I could allow that. “Edward, I know that, but if that’s true, maybe it shouldn’t be. Can you live with yourself if you killed someone?”

“Can you?” he asked.

“I already do,” I said quietly. I’d killed men before—at war and at home. Deaths that had gone untried. Ones that remained unsolved. I didn’t go into details. Edward wouldn’t be able to stomach them.

As it was, his throat slid as he swallowed my confession. I could see the struggle within him. He loved Clara like she was his own sister. I knew he would do anything to help me save her.

“Clara wouldn’t want you to hurt someone for her. She’d never forgive me if I let you.”

“And will she forgive you if you hurt someone? If you kill someone?” He tripped over the question and I had my answer. Edward would rise to whatever sin I needed him to commit, but I didn’t need him to do that. Not when I was willing. Not when there were plenty of people around us who could live with that decision.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said curtly. “I don’t need my wife’s forgiveness, I need her home.”

“I don’t want to sit around and be useless. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime,” Edward said bitterly. I wondered how much of his venom was directed at our father and how much I’d earned.

“There’s plenty you can do.” Things that wouldn’t involved blood on his hands. “Someone needs to look after Sarah and Belle. Someone needs to keep them calm.”

“For how long?” he asked, sighing.

I’d expected him to argue with me, but today wasn’t a time to take a stand. It was time for us all to fall in line. It was time for us to take our places. “However long it takes.”

There wasn’t enough room in my study for us to properly plan, and there was the matter of privacy. It was dawn when we assembled in an old conference room once used to brief my grandfather on matters during the war. There were a number of reasons the room was ideal. A large conference table occupied the centre space, allowing us all a seat at the table, and a large bulletin board hung on the wall. It was a relic from the days of maps and strategising moves. I made a mental note to bring in computers.

“A war room?” Brex asked looking around the space. “How far are we going with this?”

“We need the privacy,” I said, unfastening my cufflinks so I could roll up my sleeves. Someone, probably Edward, had suggested a shower, but there was no time to waste. No one here had slept. No one here had showered. They were soldiers waiting for the orders of their King and I wasn’t going to show even a hint of weakness or privilege. “I don’t want this getting out.”

“We’re not going to be able to contain this information indefinitely,” Brex said, turning a chair around so that he could straddle it.

“Then I suggest we find my wife quickly,” I snapped. I’d taken my fear and pain and packed it away where it wouldn’t cripple me any longer. “Let me be clear, there’s only one way this ends: with Clara coming home. I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t care who we have to get in bed with. There is nothing I won’t do. Are we clear?”

Each of my three companions nodded.