Page 170 of The Sinner's Bargain

Vance shook his head. “To avoid a war, perhaps we simply give the nuisance over and be done with the whole matter. From the very beginning, this whole ordeal has been such a tedious venture. I say we let him take her and be done.”

Thoran sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “I am going to miss her. She was certainly a beauty to look at.”

Vance gave a grunt. “For all the pain she’s caused, beauty just isn’t enough.”

Thoran gave another exhale and turned. He said a series of words I missed, except for when he said, “Get Naya.”

I stood rooted even as the very ground eroded beneath my feet. My limbs went numb as all the blood left my body. Every word had been as clear as a bell. Unmistakable. Thoran was giving me back to Jarrett.

After everything.

Blinded by tears and betrayal, I stepped out of my heels and tore down the hall to my room. I shut the door and locked it for good measure. I had no time to change, but I grabbed my coat and ducked into the bathroom. I closed that door as well just as a knock sounded in the bedroom.

“Mrs. Lacroix?” Vance called.

I hurried to the window, coat flying around my shoulders as I tossed it on. The latch gave easily beneath my shaky fingers, and I heaved my weight over the frame.

Another knock.

Louder.

I shut the window behind me and sprinted across the edge to where I’d seen the trellis. It was still light enough thankfully for me to find the strip of white running down the side of the building.

With my feet bare and my limbs numb, I shimmied awkwardly over the side. My legs dangled for several long seconds, suspended while I tried to find the first loop with my toes. I hadn’t realized just how far the edge was to the wall until I was practically hanging on with only my arms and the grace of God.

Don’t look down! The voice in my head pleaded.

Breath caught in my throat, I managed to get myself to the bottom. The moment my feet hit the cold, damp ground, I was running. I sprinted across frozen ground in bare feet in the direction of the village. Once I got there, I could hide until morning and escape. The how was a problem I would deal with once I had enough distance between me and the man who tore out my heart.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

THORAN

Brixton peeled back the lid on the crate and peered down at the sleek, limited edition, gold encased AK-47 nestled in a bed of straw. A useless thing for idiots who fancied themselves dangerous, but who the fuck needed a gold gun?

Douchebags.

But that wasn’t my problem once the money cleared.

“Oh, she’s such a beaut, isn’t she?” the piece of shit crooned, reaching in and running a manicured finger across the gleaming barrel. “After the horrid and tragic month I’ve had, this does make things feel a little less horrible. But I must say I’m very impressed by your speedy delivery, Mr. Lacroix.”

I said nothing from my end of the desk, my arms folded, watching the unwanted fucker in my home. “Hopefully impressed enough to keep to the arrangement in the future. I don’t like my directions being ignored.”

Brixton replaced the lid on the crate and faced me. “I do apologize. I was in the neighborhood—”

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