Page 61 of Beloved Sacrifice

But why?

Rose looked down the hill, then at the gearshift. For a moment, she considered putting it in neutral and just letting the car go. The car would pick up enough momentum on the downhill driveway to cause some sort of catastrophic collision. Maybe everyone would think it was an accident.

She slammed her foot on the parking brake and rested her head on the steering wheel. Strangely, despite how utterly fucked up her life was, Rose wasn’t suicidal.

The key was cold against her fingers when she turned it, shutting the car off. Rose leaned back from the steering wheel, taking one last look at the view laid out before her in the silvery light of the moon.

She opened the car door.

Marek and Wes waited five feet away. She’d known someone was there, had felt the pressure of their attention.

“Rose?” Marek asked.

“I’m not going to run.”

“I’m sorry,” Wes said.

“I don’t think I can walk across this gravel barefoot one more time.”

Marek and Weston both stepped forward. Marek put a hand on Wes’s shoulder. “I’m going to carry her.”

“Like hell you are.”

“I think, before you lay your hands on her again, there are some things the two of you need to discuss.”

Weston looked from Marek to Rose and back again. “What are you talking about?”

Marek slipped past Weston and crouched beside the open door. “May I carry you?”

“Yes,” Rose whispered, and for some stupid reason she felt a tad bit embarrassed, or maybe shy.

Marek slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back. Rose wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on as he lifted her out of the car.

Weston watched them with a haunted expression.

“Shall we go inside?” Marek asked.

Weston nodded his head woodenly.

They all turned to the door, but Knight stepped out from the shadows of the doorway. “You’re going to come with me.”

Weston sighed. “Damn it, Knight, I can explain, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

“No, you don’t, Wes. You have twelve hours to convince me you aren’t a threat to us, and assuming you do convince me, you have three days to leave the country.”

“What? Damn it, Tristan.”

Knight lifted his hands. He held a gun in each. “You abused our hospitality.” Knight shook his head. “What the bloody fuck were you planning?”

Rose watched the muscle in Weston’s jaw clench, and she tensed.

“I’m here, Rose,” Marek murmured.

“I wasn’t planning anything,” Weston said. “And I’m close to having what I need. Give me twenty-four hours to get it.”

“If you can convince me not to have you dragged out of the country within the next twelve hours, you’ll have seventy-two hours to vacate the country. That’s more than enough.”

“Fine, just let me get my stuff.”

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