Page 72 of Meet Me In The Dark

The professor directed his next words to Kara, but his eyes were still on Conor. Conor knew he was being manipulated, but it didn’t mean there wasn’t truth behind the professor’s words.

Especially with what the professor said next. “See, you’ve changed, Ms. Blum, in ways I never could have imagined. There’s a darkness in you now, and it’s infected everything bright and lovely. A true waste of a brilliant brain, ruined by too much cock. The things you could’ve done with your life, Kara. Instead, you gave up all your potential for two meatheads and a manipulative sociopath. In some ways, maybe I’m doing you a favor.”

He tsked as he hobbled forward to stroke Kara’s hair. She shivered beneath his touch. In front of her, Micah’s body went solid. And Conor couldn’t get to her, he couldn’tget to her.

“An assassin? Really, Kara? That’s what you want from life? To waste your brain and talents on killing people, when you could have given so much to the world?”

Conor waited for Kara’s reply, but she said nothing. There was fire in her eyes.

As horrible as the professor was, as much as Conor wanted to rip the man’s entire body into pieces, he wasn’t entirely sure the man was wrong. Maybe Kara hadn’t known what she wanted before, but was a life in the shadows with them any better? Was that what she really wanted, or had she been so traumatized she no longer knew which way was up? If they lived, would he be forced to watch Kara lose every part of herself and become someone he’d created out of his own selfishness? Living a life she hadn’t been meant for?

How many wrongs had he committed? How could he ever right them?

He vowed, then and there, to fix it. If he survived this, if they did, he wouldfix it.

He glanced around to see if Luke and Conor had the same reactions. Luke’s eyes were intent on Kara, thoughts moving behind his eyes, too fast for Conor to catch. And Micah?

Micah looked fuckingproud.

It stymied Conor for a moment, set up some doubt in his head. Was he wrong? But the doubt quickly turned to anger. Micah wasn’t seeing this clearly; he wanted what he wanted, and he’d done what he had to in order to get it. Kara was fully invested in their life together, without any thought to what could have been if her original escape had stuck. That must be enough for him.

It had been enough for Conor, once upon a time. But now he wanted, no, needed more. For her. Conor doubted anything he’d done in a long time would make his father proud, but this—making sure Kara had a good life, the life she deserved, even though it meant giving her up—thatwould have made Hank O’Connell proud.

Now he had to convince Micah and Luke he was right.

23

Luke wasn’t sure he’d ever get the feeling back in his left arm. It was already broken, and being zip tied behind his back for almost two weeks didn’t help matters. It worried him; it made him feel useless, helpless—more helpless than he’d ever been. But over the past days, as Kara fussed over him, cleaning out his left eye so he could see clearly, and Micah checked in on him and made sure he ate, and Conor was gentle, even tender toward him, Luke had grown to appreciate the pain. Or rather, what it signified. That this was his family, where he belonged. He no longer felt like he was on the outside looking in. Even if they died, they’d do it together.

But god, he hoped they wouldn’t die. Christopher had been right; now that he’d told them how he was planning on killing them, Luke was even more on edge, waiting for that pin to drop. He dreaded that cell door opening, and not only because Kara was going to be dragged away where he couldn’t see her or protect her. He dreaded every day, worried it may be their last. And despite the pain, and the fear, he treasured every day it wasn’t.

Today was another reprieve. The door to the cell opened, the guards entered. When one approached Conor, Luke rose to his knees, preparing to do something, anything to protect the other man if it came down to it, only to relax back on his heels when the guard changed the bandage on Conor’s chest.

“It’s looking better,” the guard said. “Good news for us, bad news for you.”

Shit.

“C’mon,” the guard told Kara, and without fighting, Kara stood gracefully and walked out of the cell, turning at the door to stop and say, “I love you.”

It had become a ritual of hers. She said it every time she left.

In case she didn’t come back.

Luke desperately needed her to come back.

The moment the cell doors closed, Conor cleared his throat. Luke had dreaded this, too. The night before—or whatever passed for night in this hellhole—Conor had waited until Kara was asleep before whispering, “The next time she’s gone, we need to talk.”

Luke wasn’t looking forward to whatever it was. Something was up with Conor. Somethinghadbeen up with Conor since the attempted rescue. Since before that, even. And he needed to find out what was going on so he could slap some sense into him. Verbally, since he didn’t currently have use of his hands.

“Okay, she’s gone,” Conor said.

“You know,” Luke said, watching the door, “Kara’s going to hate that we’re having a conversation without her.”

“She’s going to really hate it when she realizes this conversation’s about her,” Micah commented from his sideof the cell. He was, as per usual, calm and controlled, and like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“This is wrong,” Conor said, looking at Luke. “All of this is wrong.”

“What’s wrong, boss?” Luke asked.

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