by Wren Weston
He grabbed her wrist. “We had a deal,” he hissed.
“That was before you killed my father,” she said, twisting out of his grip. “Nothing in my contract specifies that I have to finish the job. I was raised to be prime. I know how to write a contract with twists and turns and alleyways. It’s your own fault for being too quick to sign.”
“Fine. Give us the data you’ve found so far.”
“Not on your life. I want to you feel what my father had to go through, what Mr. Shaw and I had to go through. The way I understand it, you and your friends have one year to sort out La Roux’s network, or at least make some measure of progress toward that end. You can’t exactly condemn Mr. Shaw and my father for going outside of Bullstow if you insist on doing the same. When you fail—and you will fail—maybe Dr. Booth might give you pills when the next disciplinary committee takes over. Let me assure you, senator, I’ll be here on the day of your death, gloating in the corner while your family grieves, just as you’ve done tonight.”
“For gods’ sake, madam, I wasn’t gloating!”
“Yes, I’m sure you were just paying your respects.” Lila turned and stalked through the compound toward Falcon Home, her side aching and calling out for rest.
Senator Masson did not follow her.
Chapter 33
Lila stopped before the dark guest cabin, opening the door with little noise. It wasn’t as if she needed to bother, though. Dixon would be in the oracle’s cabin tonight, curled up with Blair, watching movies, laughing, and writing long notes for his lover to read whenever she looked up. Connell and Mòr would likely do the same, whispering quietly while the film played on. Kenna would play the host, feeding her daughter sweets and hoping to take her mind off Camille and Achille.
Lila flipped on the lights beside the door, jumping at the figure standing at the counter, his fingers splayed out upon the granite. His brown coat hung limply upon his frame. A scarf trailed on either side of his neck.
“Lila,” Tristan said.
He had gone back to calling her by her first name.
Lila slammed the door behind her. She didn’t bother looking at his face. She didn’t bother saying hello. She prowled into the den, unplugged her laptop from the wall, and tossed it into her satchel.
“Lila, I came to talk to you.”
Lila ignored him. She scanned the coffee table for her star drives, frowning when she did not immediately spot one of them. Spying it underneath a folder, she snatched it up and slipped it into her satchel.
Tension hung on the air, like damp.
Lila hitched the strap higher onto her shoulder and stepped back outside, settling her satchel in the back of her sedan.
Tristan followed her out. “I’m not mad that you tranqed me, you know. I could see in your eyes that you were frightened. I don’t understand why. You know I’d never hurt Dixon. He’s my own brother.”
Lila shut the car door and entered the cabin, marching into her room. She swiveled her head, searching for her empty canvas bag before dropping it upon the floor. It landed upon the wood with a splat, metallic zippers twitching back and forth, jingling in the quiet.
“Will you please talk to me?”
Sweaters and trousers stared at her as she opened the bottom drawer, like quiet spectators in the first row at a play. She snapped up each item and dropped it into the bag, then opened the next drawer.
“You shouldn’t be packing. You should be resting.”
Lila paused, knowing someone had told him she’d been shot. She bustled around the drawers faster.
“Dixon didn’t tell me. The oracle did. Did you ask him not to?”
Lila dodged him and entered the bathroom, grabbing up her toiletries and ferrying them to her bag. On her last trip, Tristan grabbed her arm. “Lila, did you ask him not to say anything?”
They locked eyes.
Lila looked away. She couldn’t open her mouth, not for one word. If she tried to speak, words wouldn’t come out. Tears would.
Tristan didn’t get to see that from her, not ever again.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong with you?”
She tugged her arm away and finished filling her bag.
“What’s happened, Lila? Will you please just talk to me?”
She zipped the bag, one harsh tear in the quiet, and grabbed the straps.
Tristan put his hand upon hers before she could lift it. “You’re not supposed to be doing that.” He picked up the bag himself and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’ll put it in the car with your computer. Don’t pick up anything else while I’m gone.”
As he left the room, Lila dug through every drawer, making sure she’d packed everything.
He returned before she’d reached the bottom of the dresser. “Katia has known this entire time, by the way, long before you showed up on our doorstep. She didn’t care that I was in love with you. She’s back from school, trying to find a contract to sign. She didn’t want a commitment with anyone. She just wanted to enjoy what time she had left in New Bristol, and I wanted to try it like the highborn. I wanted to see if I could be the sort of lover you needed. She’d planned on introducing me to a few of her friends who wanted the same. We were never even monogamous.”
Lila unlocked the bottom drawer in the bedside table, revealing a second bag filled with hard drives and other gadgets.
Tristan plunged his hand inside before she had a chance to fish out the bag. He held it loosely by his side, not moving from his spot. “I never even met any of her friends, except for the other two men she was seeing. I had to smile at her mother’s birthday party, pretending I didn’t care. I’m not even sure that I did, and that makes it worse. I hate the whole damn idea of it. I hated it even more after you left my bed the other night, and Katia crawled in. I told her what had happened. She didn’t care. I did, but I tried it that night, anyway. Unfortunately, it just proved to me that I can’t be that man, Lila. I can’t be the sort of man who goes to parties with my lover’s bedmates, the sort who turns off how he feels about the one he loves as he bounces from bed to bed. I tried so hard, but I can’t be the lover you want me to be.”
She closed the drawer and scanned the room, searching for anything else she might have left behind, then prowled into the other rooms, doing the same.
“I broke up with Katia. She wanted fun, and I wasn’t much fun to be around. It wasn’t fair to her. I would have lost her as a friend.”
He stopped in her path as she tried to leave the cabin. “Say something to me, Lila. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m sorry I was so angry when you came to the apartment before your trial. I wasn’t ready to see you yet. I was still too pissed off, and I knew you’d be okay without my help.”
He huffed out a long breath. “You wanted to talk before, so let’s talk. I’m letting it all go. All of it. I’m tired of being mad and frustrated all the time. It’s too hard. Maybe I can’t give you want you want in a lover, but I need you in my life. I at least want to be friends.”
Whatever light she’d had within her blew out, one gust of wind too strong to dodge.
The hint of a baby no longer bound them together.
Nothing bound them together.
Not even Dixon.
“Lila, don’t look at me like that.”
She reached for her luggage, but he pulled it back. “No, I’ll put it in your car if you want. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
He did as promised, sliding the bag into the back seat. “Why won’t you even talk to me? You’re scaring me.”
Lila circled the car and slipped into the front seat, starting the engine in one quick movement. She pulled out as soon as Tristan closed the door, speeding through the compound as fast as she dared, careful not to hit anyone who lingered between the cabins.
A shadowy figure in a brown coat ran after her, his fists pu
mping as he kept pace.
Her palm vibrated with a message from her mother.
Your accounts have been replenished.
Lila looked up from her palm, slamming on the brakes almost too late to avoid a second figure. It sprinted before her sedan and stopped in its path.
Brakes screeched as she came to a stop.
The car bounced to and fro, squeaking on its frame.
Dixon crouched in her headlights, standing his ground. The bumper had stopped only a few centimeters from his knees.
“For oracle’s sake!” Tristan cried out. “Dixon, are you okay?”
Dixon nodded over the car and put his hands up as though calming a cat. He pointed at himself, then pointed at the seat beside her.
She couldn’t go around him, and she couldn’t back up without hitting Tristan.
The engine whirled while he opened the passenger door. Slipping inside, Dixon showed her his palm. Something’s wrong with Lila. She’s moving out of your cabin. Get over here now! Go with her. Don’t let her run away alone this time. Please!
She turned away from Dixon’s palm and gunned the engine, not even stopping at the gatehouse.
Tristan stuck his fists in his coat, watching as she and Dixon sped away.
Lila's story continues in book five, Exile Bound, ready for release this winter!
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Titles by the Author
Fates of the Bound
Disreputable Allies
Stolen Lies
Barren Vows
Forged Absolution
Exile Bound
Manufactured Deceit
Elected Rebellion
Tales from the Ecliptic
The Becoming of the Twenty
About the Author
Wren Weston grew up writing fantasy and science fiction stories, but one chance book club encounter with a romance novel changed her favorite genre forever.
She became addicted.
Not only can she not stop reading them, she can’t stop injecting shades of the genre into everything she writes.
You have been warned, darlings.
To recommend a romance novel to Wren, visit www.wrenweston.com or drop her a line on Twitter.