Page 47 of Irrevocably

Chapter Twenty-Three

ASTRID

I’m boiling with a strange combination of rage and fear as Lucien guns poor Matilda’s engine, screeching out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

He nearly killed Wolf. Wolf nearly died.

Because of you.

I grit my teeth and clasp my hands together tightly in my lap. I can’t believe I was so stupid as to say Lucien’s name. I was just … shocked when I saw him. Wolf had come to meet me to apologise about the way he’d left things when I’d pushed him to tell me about the club, and to see if I was okay.

I wasn’t, of course, but Wolf has always been able to make me smile, and after the day I’d had, with all my threat senses on high alert looking out for Lucien, I appreciated his presence.

My gut churns, and not only because I’m afraid for Wolf. Just before Lucien appeared out of the darkness, he told me how much I meant to him and then … bent his head and kissed me, and it wasn’t a friendship kind of kiss, either. It shocked me.

But that’s not something I can think about right now. Lucien has Wolf unconscious in Matilda’s trunk, and I don’t know where we’re going or why.

Lucien drives with single-minded focus, his tattooed hands gripping the wheel. There’s blood on his knuckles, Wolf’s blood, and suddenly all I can see is that man Lucien killed, and his blood gushing from his slit throat.

I swallow. Thank God I took Lucien’s knife otherwise Wolf would have been bleeding out on the concrete instead of being still alive and in the trunk. And he is still alive. I’ve seen Lucien kill and he doesn’t hesitate, but…

“… that’s why I’m letting him live.”

I can’t help looking at him now, my gaze caught by the purity of his profile. How is it that such a beautiful man came to be such a cold-hearted killer? Where did he come from? Who is he working with? And why did he let Wolf live for me?

I should have asked him these questions days ago, but he’s already made it pretty clear he won’t answer them.

“You bring my knife?” he asks into the heavy silence, his gaze on the road ahead.

“Yes,” I say. It’s in my backpack. “Where are we going?”

He ignores me. “You get the information I wanted?”

The information, the information. The fucking information.

“Well,” I say sarcastically, “I was going to talk to Dad tonight, but apparently that’s not going to happen since I’m now in the car with you.”

“I gave you two days, Astrid,” he says expressionlessly.

“And I gave you a hard-on,” I snap back, which isn’t exactly top-notch banter, but I’m tired.

He glances at me. “Yes,” he says unexpectedly. “You did.”

There’s heat in his eyes now, and it’s glittering, and despite my fury, an answering heat flickers to life inside me. Not that it ever died. Not when I’ve been thinking of him constantly since I gave him that show in my bedroom.

I look away, though, angry enough that I don’t want him to see it. “You didn’t answer my question,” I say, staring out the window. “Where the fuck are we going?”

“Somewhere else,” Lucien says.

“That tells me nothing.”

He doesn’t respond, so I glance back at him, but he’s gazing intently out the front windshield.

Anger at him and his constant refusal to answer my questions burns hot in my chest. “You’ve been following me all day, haven’t you? That’s why you were in the parking lot just before.”

More silence.

“Oh, for God’s sake, why don’t you⁠—”