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“What if the nightmare doesn’t stop, even after you eliminate every member of the Brotherhood?”
“Then at least I’d know they won’t hurt anyone else.” His answer came without a moment’s hesitation, revealing he’d thought this through.
She studied his profile, noting the pain etched into every line of his face. He was broken, and she doubted revenge would fix him. Revenge really never did. “And is this what Sarah would want for you?”
He shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. “No. Absolutely not. But I tried living the way Sarah would have wanted. I attempted to lead a peaceful life, but there was no peace in that for me at all. I was living like a ghost, alongside the ghosts of my family, until frustration drove me to become a soldier and later to work for the Crown.” He let out a breath. “I tried to retire, to live in Sarah’s memory, but that didn’t last long either. Once the late Wolverstone called me back to London to prepare to take over his titles—his mission, his purpose—something snapped within me. I began seeing those men responsible for my family’s death on a weekly basis, enjoying their lives as if nothing had happened, and I could not let it stand any longer.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “Sarah would be terrified of the man I have become. She would have hated me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Leila said gently, trying to soothe the storm inside him. But he just smiled, hollow and sad.
“I know my wife. The man I am now… she would never have loved me.”
“And you?” Leila couldn’t help but ask. “Would you still love her? Even after all these years? After everything you’ve gone through and how much you’ve changed?”
“Of course.” There was no hesitation there either. “I still love her and I always will. If I could have her back, even if it meant killing two hundred men, I would do it. Even if it meant dying, I would do that, too. But if she returned and I still lived…” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t think we’d find that happiness again. I was a different man then. A perfect man for her. And she was the perfect wife for me. Not anymore.”
He shifted restlessly beside her.
Leila couldn’t help but wonder: did he think she was perfect for him now?
Of course not. Not after everything she’d done.
But then again, they’d both committed unforgivable acts. They were both broken.
Maybe that’s what made them a perfect fit.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.
She blinked.
Was she?
She was wracked with guilt for making him relive his tragedy. She felt deep compassion for his loss and how it had nearly broken him.
She felt sick that it had almost driven him mad.
No, she was not feeling better.
But physically…
She attempted to move.
Her muscles were taut, there was an ache in her shoulder, but the sharp pain in the side of her head flared with every movement.
Still, she tried to rise slowly and carefully—and the pain eased a little. With Gideon’s help, she managed to stand.
She patted the side of her head and found a small bump where she’d been hit.
Then she checked the rest of her head and hands. She seemed otherwise unharmed.
Her clothes were dirty and bedraggled. Her hair was probably a mess, though her braids hadn’t come undone. Still, she must have looked a fright.
“Good,” Gideon crooned, holding her by the arms as if afraid she might collapse at any moment. “It means we can attempt to move farther away from here. I carried you as far as I could, but I know it’s not far enough. The Brotherhood will send their goons after us. I had to leave the horse when I saw people moving in that direction. I’m not sure if they were from the Brotherhood, but who else could they be?”
Siktir. He was right. The weight of everything that had just happened began to crush her again.
She had miscalculated—gravely.
She had thought that once the guards left to fetch the Cardinal, she could help Gideon escape—if he hadn’t already escaped on his own. When the Cardinal arrived, she would tell him Wolverstone was dead, that she had watched him burn, and that it was time to free her and her brother.
