Page 76 of Irrevocably

She looks up at me from where she’s sitting on the couch, and a part of me notes that she has some colour in her face and is pleased. “I took care of you, now you’re taking care of me,” she says. “So, thank you. Though I have to say, losing a finger beats a split eyebrow.”

She’s settling in as if she lives here already and that’s impossible. Keeping her here is impossible.

“Astrid,” I say. “I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here. The people I work for⁠—”

“Oh, you mean the Frosts?” she interrupts. “The guy holding Dad and I hostage asked if we knew anything about them. I assume he meant you.” She frowns. “He said Frosts, plural, which seems to imply there’s more of you.” Abruptly, she blinks and looks around, as if she’s only just registered that she’s somewhere new. “Hey, is this your house? Do you live here?”

I ignore her questions. “The people I work for want that weapons operation, which means if they take it from the MC, your life will still be on the line.”

She stares at me for a long second and clearly reality must be crashing in on her, because she abruptly looks down at her injured hand, one finger covered in the bandage I put on it. “Yes,” she says softly. “I know.”

The beast inside me howls at this, at its own lack of agency and choices. At the fact that it can’t save her, and neither can I.

Enzo wants this operation, it’s a lynchpin in his worldwide network, and he will do anything to get it. And if anyone gets in his way, he will kill them. He’s Tribunal, and what he says goes.

As if on cue, the burner in my leather jacket vibrates, the burner that only has Enzo’s number on it, and ice gathers inside me. For the first time I don’t want to answer it, I want to ignore it completely, but I can’t. And it’s not coincidence he’s calling now, immediately after I rescued Astrid.

He was behind the Morettis taking her, wasn’t he?

I’m so tense it feels as if moving could shatter me, but I reach into my pocket all the same and take out my phone, hitting the answer button.

“Lucien,” Enzo purrs, the sound of Italy accenting my name. “Apologies for the interference, but you were taking too long. Carlos offered a solution.”

“I would have had the information tonight.” I can’t keep the heat of my fury from my voice. “There was no need for it.”

“Oh, don’t be angry with me, mio figlio,” he says indulgently, far too pleased with himself for comfort. “You still have one final role to play.”

On the couch, Astrid looks up at me, concern in her eyes, so I turn away, moving out of the living area and into the hallway. I don’t want her to hear this conversation, whatever it’s going to be about.

“What do you want?” I ask coldly.

“You know what I want. Your family on a platter. And you should be thanking me for the distraction I provided. Now they’re all dealing with the mess at the factory, and here you are, at home.” He pauses. “With her.”

There’s no escape as my blood becomes ice, freezing everything inside me.

How does he know I left the factory with Astrid? I didn’t leave anyone alive long enough to see the aftermath, let alone me walking back to the car with her and taking her back here. But clearly, he does know, which means someone told him. Either that, or he witnessed it himself.

Fuck. Is he here? In Blackwater? Now?

And if he knows you took her away, then he must know how you feel about her.

I bite down hard on the growl that gathers in my throat and all the questions I want to ask. “She’s an asset,” I say, struggling to keep any sign of emotion from my voice, still less surprise that he knows what happened at the factory. “That’s all.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. By all accounts you went in there, guns blazing, and carried her out like Sleeping Beauty. You didn’t even stop to chat with your family.” He laughs. “I never knew you were such a romantic.”

Someone told him. Someone who was there tonight and alive enough to see me take her away. Shit.

Fury tries to melt the ice inside me, but even my anger is no match for the cold. The cold that should have been there all this time yet somehow started to melt because one little college student with a fruit knife cut herself and sassed me and I liked it. And I have no one but myself to blame for that.

Denying it will only make things worse, especially when I’ve already betrayed myself, so I say nothing. There’s nothing to say.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Enzo says, the playful note in his voice vanishing. “You’re going to open the gates to the house right now, so my men can get in.”

What? He wants to take control now? Here?

“I thought you wanted to wait until they’d gotten rid of the MC?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

“I did. Then I changed my mind. They’ve got a nice little set-up in Blackwater and have already done the legwork for me, so there’s really no need to wait any longer.”