Page 186 of Making Choices

“Sure,” Alasdair’s wife concedes after a noticeable pause. “At the very least, we’ll send a representative.”

The strange note in her voice seems to suck the oxygen out of the conversation. On either side of the screen, everyone seems to zone in on me at once. I shift in my seat, lifting my mug to my lips and taking a sip to hide my discomfort.

“We’ll be in touch,” Gabriel interjects when it becomes clear that no one else is going to speak. “I’m contactable through the same back channels—use them when you’re ready to call in your marker.”

“Marker,” I whisper after the screen goes blank. “Ritual. Covenants. I feel like I’ve missed something important.”

“It’s Trinity colloquialism,” Hunter explains. “Nothin’ comes without a price—and the price is always three-fold. Mumma’s agreed to take up her formal duties now she’s back from the dead, Gabriel bartered a favour in exchange for the UK Trinity’s blessing of your union, and you’ll perform the ritual.” With a sharp nod, he declares, “Now we’ve secured the UK’s vote, the resistance from the US and Russian guilds doesn’t matter. Catalonia only requires a majority, not unanimity. The Australasia, E.U. and Canadian orders of the Trinity have blessed the union as well, so it’s full steam ahead for the weekend.” Smiling at me with a lopsided grin that’s equal parts happiness and apprehension, Hunter says, “Welcome to the family, sister.”

“What?” A boulder lodges in my throat. It chokes me, a sense of impending doom that makes it hard to breathe. “This weekend.”

“Let’s table this discussion for later,” Slash interrupts my looming meltdown. I twist in my seat so I’m looking him straight in the face. There’s a shifty light in his gaze that makes my stomach churn. As quickly as I register it, his expression fills with concern, and he palms my face to make me look at him. “You trust me, don’t you, duchess?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re gonna listen when I tell you to head upstairs and spend the day with Sander, aren’t you?”

“But... a wedding. This weekend. I’m...” Trailing off, I press my lips together as my gaze sweeps the room.

Everyone is staring at me with varying degrees of concern. It’s eerie. Chilling. Their expectation that I’m going to cause a problem, that I will sabotage everything with my erratic behaviour, cuts deep.

I refuse to be the liability.

“I’m sorry. I’m just... worried.”

Slash presses his lips to mine. Drawing back, he dances his fingers down the column of my throat. I shiver visibly, my nipples hardening unexpectedly. He must notice my reaction because his voice is deeper than usual when he tells me, “I’ll be back later today, duchess. We’ll sit down and go through things in depth then.”

“Promise?”

As soon as my dumb request is voiced, I regret it.

I know better than to ask for absolutes.

“No promises,” Slash murmurs. “Just actions. I will be back. We will discuss everythin’. You will have nothin’ to worry about.”

37

SLASH

“You can’t be serious?” I pound my fist down on the metal table that separates me from Venom. Dressed in a dark green prison tracksuit, stripped of his earrings with his hair unwashed, he should be diminished as he stares back at me, yet Venom holds himself like a man who believes he can walk out the door at any time. “We can’t pull off a scheme like this without tellin’ her the truth.”

“We can. It’s the only way—” Gabriel tells me.

“Lily needs to believe it’s true,” Venom interjects. “They’ll be watchin’ her. Any sign that it’s fake, and they’ll come for her. I won’t risk her life just because you’re too fuckin’ pussy to do what needs to be done.”

“Lyin’ to her about this is bloody crazy. She’ll never forgive me—you. Us.”

“There is no us.” Venom blinks unnaturally slowly as he scans my face with his multi-coloured eyes. “And how she reacts to you isn’t my fuckin’ problem. What is my problem is you—” He jabs the air between us. “—needa do as you’re told. Make her believe the sky is pink for all I care, just make her a Trinity wife and ensure they protect her as one of their own.”

He smirks when I cringe at the crass way he lists what I’m expected to trick Cherub into believing. Leaning back in the uncomfortable steel chair that is too small for his bulky frame, he’s almost unrecognisable as the man I would’ve once followed into hell. The deal Gabriel’s put to him has already changed him—and not for the better.

The power Venom will eventually wield is unimaginable.

I should hate Apollo and Isaiah for creating this turn of events, but I can’t.

If anyone was born for the role, it’s Ezekiel Miles.

He is Lazarus.

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