Page 69 of Bishop

Bishop stands taller, his gaze narrowing.

I know what that reaction means. I understand it because the same silent thoughts I hear loud between us always haunt me when I’m at my lowest.

“Tilly’s alive.” My voice breaks. “My father didn’t give me fake photos.”

I’d recognize her face anywhere. Even in a room full of little children, I’d be able to pick her from the crowd. I’d know her despite her having no clue who I am. That I’m her mother. That I love her more than anything in this world.

“You sure?” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “It sounds like Emmanuel’s MO to tell you she’s fighting fit and loving life, but in reality she’s probably—”

“She’s alive,” I repeat, refusing to believe otherwise. “The only thing that’s up for debate is my mother’s agenda. And if Matthew finds out and starts meddling—after what he already did to my father—” I scrunch my nose. “I don’t trust her, Bishop. If she has the right incentive, I’m scared she’ll kill Tilly.”

He falls silent.

“Please,” I plead. “You can’t share this with anyone.”

He refuses to respond, his gaze unforgiving.

“Please. Promise me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Bishop…” I grab his lapels and yank. I must catch him off-guard because he staggers forward, bumping into me with a growl. “I’m begging.”

“I can hear you, belladonna. But you’re asking me to break the trust of one of the only people I give a shit about.”

He’s not going to keep quiet.

He’ll tell my brothers. Inform Lorenzo and the fucking Italian mafia bloodline my mother comes from. What happens if they side with her and decide Tilly is a liability?

“Oh, God.” I suck in a ragged breath, my hands falling from his suit as I retreat.

“Hey.” He grabs my upper arms and drags me back into him. “We’re not doing this again.”

What am I going to do? I need to figure this out. To calm my pulse and think without trepidation.

But I can’t trust anyone.

I can’t risk Tilly’s safety in that way.

Especially not with my brothers who were selfish enough to take action against my father without sparing a thought for me first. What if she dies? What if my decisions kill her?

“Breathe, belladonna.” Bishop pulls me closer, placing his forehead to mine. “Just breathe.”

His tone is abrasive, yet for some reason his concern wraps around me, smoothing the harsh edges of my resurgent panic.

“I won’t say a word,” he mutters. “Not yet. But they’re going to need to know.”

I have to find Tilly before that happens.

He pulls away, meeting my gaze. “I’ll get her back for you. I won’t stop until it’s done.”

I fight a wince. He doesn’t understand. I can’t expect him to.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my guilt renewed because he looks exactly how I feel—like hell warmed up. “You must be exhausted.”

He inclines his head. “I am.”

I huff a faint laugh. “Is that the Butcher finally showing weakness?”

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