I want to cry, to scream, to run back to him and let him bend me over that table again, but this time I want him to take and take and take. Until there’s nothing left of me. No more hurt, no more vengeance, nothing except Evie Witherington, a hopeful girl with her life ahead of her.
But that’s not possible. Not for me or for him.
“You all right, miss?” A server from a patio restaurant looks at me curiously. I didn’t notice her standing there at all.
“I-I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Okay.” She doesn’t seem convinced, but she has too many diners to waste time on me, so she moves along.
When I look back for Lucius, he’s gone.
13
Lucius
“Where have you been?” Teddy wolfs down a protein bar as I walk into the penthouse. “You’re not a morning person.”
“I had a lunch date.”
He gives me a narrow look. “With who?”
“Mind your business.” I throw myself down onto the couch, memories of Evie pirouetting through my head.
“Sin said that woman is actually Evie Witherington. That true?” He grabs another vitamin water. The kid is always at the hospital. I’m surprised he’s spending any of his precious doctor minutes talking to me.
“Yep.” I shrug. “I think she’s mad at me.”
Teddy guffaws. “You think?”
“Can’t be too sure, especially since I also think she’s desperate to fuck me.”
He chokes on his swig of vitamin bullshit. “What?”
I nod at him. “Look at me, Teddy.” I gesture toward my body. “Of course she wants to fuck me. Don’t act surprised. But there’s more to it.”
“More to it? Like the fact you killed her brother right in front of her? Maybe that part? Or maybe the fact we burned a house down on her parents.”
“No, not that shit. I’m talking about the slavery cosplayers.”
“She’s part of the Acquisition?” He swipes a hand through the air. “Wait. Hang on. You had lunch with her?”
“No. Well, yes I had lunch with her. No, I don’t think she’s part of it. Not yet, anyway.” I think back to how she’d reacted when I’d asked her about it. “I think she hates them. Or, at the very least, wants nothing to do with them.”
“And?” He grabs his backpack.
“And I think they’ve contacted her. I think they want her to be one of their new members, especially given her brother’s place in the last Acquisition. They’re trying to bring it all back, and if they can find even a twig of one of the old family trees, they’re going to shake it.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No.” I arch a brow. “She lied to me about it.”
“Don’t …” He sighs. “Don’t do anything to her, okay?”
Sweet Teddy. He’s the only member of our fucked-up family who’s ever had a care for others. Empathy. It’s a strange concept, one I’m not familiar with on any real level, but I can see it shining in his eyes. Even though he was very nearly killed by the dregs of that secret society of craven bastards, he still sees good in people. He still wants to help others.
I don’t get it. I never will.
“Why, little brother, whatever could you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “She’s a victim, too, you know? A victim of the whole damn thing. None of it was her fault. She was just a kid with a brother who—”
“—was a fucking sociopath. I put him down like the dog he was.”
“And I don’t fault you for that. I never have.” He shoulders his backpack. “Red was garbage. Evie isn’t. You spared her. Don’t you remember? When you killed Red, you could’ve taken her, too. Ended it right then and there. You didn’t.”
I shrug. “We’d given our word.”
He gives me a knowing look. “Sin gave his word. You never promised to spare her. But you did anyway. Have you ever thought about why?”
“I don’t make a habit of thinking about anything for too long. If I did, I could get ideas. And no one wants that.” I smirk at him.
“Don’t hurt her.” He opens the door and slams it behind him.
“But what if she wants me to hurt her?” I ask the empty penthouse.
After pouring myself a generous drink, I grab my laptop and check over the newest leads on my darling little firebrand. She’s an imposter, but a good one. None of my people have been able to track down her foreign accounts, but her domestic holdings are a nice chunk of change. I flip through bits of information, most of it glancing or unimportant. Until I find one item someone scavenged from her emails that piques my interest.
An old offer letter to my brother and signed by “Mr. E. Weathers” for a piece of property in the parish. I scroll through the document, and even though she styles herself as a man, I recognize her touch. She wants a particular stretch of fifty acres near the river, and she’s offered a ridiculous sum for it.