Page 13 of Callum

She will never choose you, though.

“Dodge finally realized he was saying too much.”

I begin to clean the cut on Rosalind’s leg, cutting away the sewing thread more violently than is strictly necessary. She won’t feel any of it anyway. “How?”

“He found out she was telling someone everything he said, so he started feeding her bullshit info.”

There’s no way that was his idea. Dodge Roman has one setting: brute force. One of his siblings must have warned him that wasn’t the answer this time. My money would be on Ford, but everyone knows the Roman Brothers ignore their sister so entirely that she might as well not exist. It’s a shame because she’s by far the most ruthless and cunning of the Romans.

Knowing Dodge, he still went with his instinct despite being told otherwise. “He tried to kill her anyway.”

“He was unsuccessful,” Lachlan laughs, the sound bouncing around the otherwise silent house. “She got away from him easily enough, but it didn’t matter. Dodge called the GiGi’s to his Table, and Ginetta folded. She demanded that Rosie tell her what Dodge knew for a fact and what was speculation. Then Ginetta set her dog on your girl.”

I can’t help but chuckle at the annoyance in Lachlan’s voice when he mentions Ginetta’s second-in-command, Kyler—the Silent Killer. I had already guessed this was her handiwork, so the news isn’t surprising. “Why did she mark Rosalind as a traitor? It sounds like she did exactly what the GiGi’s told her to do.”

Lachlan huffs, and I know we’ve finally gotten to the root of the problem. “Ginetta denied that Rosie was Trapping for them.”

It doesn’t take a genius to imagine why she would do that. Telling Dodge that Rosalind is one bad seed within the GiGi Organization is a hell of a lot easier to deal with than the war he would bring to her doorstep if he knew the truth. “She said Rosalind was Trapping for the MacAlisters.”

“Like a goddamn coward.” Lachlan leans forward, watching as I begin to pull the needle through Rosalind’s sterilized skin. She’ll be damn lucky if she doesn’t lose this leg to an infection.

“It surprises me that Ginetta would have enough foresight to blame someone else. She must have planned to use us as a scapegoat the entire time.” I listen for Lachlan’s dissent, but it doesn’t come. He agrees that Ginetta was planning this, which means we need to assume that Ginetta is planning other things as well. “Do you think that’s the whole truth?”

It’s the closest I can bring myself to asking him about the baby. I’m not sure what stops me, but the words simply won’t come. Every time I try to get the question out of my mouth, it morphs in my mind into a “What if”. What if the baby was intentional? What if she found someone she loved more than me and gave him what she always told me wasn’t hers to give? What if the baby was an accident? What if she gave the baby away?

What if the baby is mine?

“I’m not sure,” Lachlan quietly admits, standing just outside my periphery as I bend closer to Rosalind’s leg. “But something scared Rosie enough to have her looking for a way out of the Underworld.”

My hand stills against Rosalind’s shin, the needle poised above the deepest part of the laceration. “What?”

“What?” Lachlan repeats my question back to me, obviously not understanding what caused my confusion. He shifts the black bag off the table, letting it thump loudly on the ground beside his feet.

I do my best to keep my tone even, but I know Lachlan can sense the change in my demeanor. “Rosalind asked to leave the Underworld?”

The meaning behind the question clicks in his mind, and he sighs deeply, the air pulling from the very base of his lungs. “I don’t think she would leave for any reason other than to save her own life.”

Or to save someone else’s.

Is her baby in trouble?

“You need to take this to Grant.” Lachlan switches topics as he drops into the chair next to me. He waits until I tie off the next suture in Rosalind’s leg before flopping his arm onto the table, quickly cleaning out the cut running the length of his forearm. It’s much smaller than Rosalind’s, an even slice through the muscle.

“What exactly is ‘this’?”

Lachlan rolls his eyes, waving a hand toward Rosalind’s body. “Her. The GiGi’s. All of it.”

“Well, in that case, ‘this’ is MacAlister Business.”

“And?”

I don’t say anything until I’ve tied off the last suture in Rosalind’s leg. Quickly, I sanitize my hands before picking up the second needle from the bag of supplies. “I’m not getting involved in MacAlister Business.”

A muscle in Lachlan’s jaw ticks, his patience reaching the end of its tether. “Why not?”

“You know why not,” I huff, pulling the first stitch through his arm. Lachlan doesn’t need anything to numb him; he’s been in control of his pain for as long as I can remember. “I’m not a MacAlister.”

“Yes, you fucking are,” he snaps, his light eyes flashing when I look up at him again. “You’re just too goddamn stubborn to see that we need you.”

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