Page 59 of Kingmakers, Graduation

I turn my face against his shoulder to keep the tears back, because even with my father, I won’t allow myself to cry.

18

ADRIK

Because Sabrina has to leave so early in the morning, only Nix is up to say goodbye to her.

Sabrina trundles her suitcase down the front steps, looking ashen in the diluted light.

I take the suitcase from her, hoisting it into the backseat of Rafe’s car.

Sabrina follows in uncharacteristic silence.

She’s barely spoken to me since her drive with her father. Nero left directly afterward, his work done. She’s going back to school. I won’t see her again for eight months at least.

As I drive her to the very last place I want to take her, I want to argue again. Hell, I want to turn this car in the opposite direction and abduct her. But it would be pointless—I want Sabrina free and willing, or not at all.

She leans against the car door as if she’s exhausted. I’ve never seen her like this. Usually she overflows with an energy so electric that it almost sears your retinas to look at her.

I understand the power of a father. I’ve had my conflicts with my own dad—times when I’ve bristled at his conservatism, his caution that can feel like wet mud I have to wade through on my way to anything new. He’s a good leader, a good teacher—I emulate his methods with my own men. But he’s always been willing to follow Ivan, while I refuse to be second to anyone.

Sabrina shares my hunger for independence, I know she does. That’s why she’s so tormented returning to Kingmakers.

But she’s younger than me. She’s not ready to shake off the weight of everyone else’s expectations and advice. There’s no point in trying to pile my own desires on the burden threatening to break her back.

Or … maybe she simply doesn’t feel the way I do.

She’s unhappy, I can see that … but actions tell the truth. She’s leaving. What more do I need to know?

We pull up outside the airport in Portland.

I lift her suitcase out of the car, hating every part of that motion. I want to say something to her, and I consider several options, discarding each one in turn.

I’ll miss you …pithy, insufficient.

I don’t want you to go …already been said.

This was the best week of my life …true, but still not enough.

I’d give anything for more time …fucking pathetic.

I wrap my arms around her, crushing her against my chest, angry at her and at myself. I’ve never been like this before—I’ve always known what to do.

The impulse to snatch her up and throw her back in the car is overwhelming.

Instead I let go, regretting it the moment I feel the cold emptiness between my arms.

Sabrina gives me one last look, her eyes huge and dark in her stiff face.

She pulls her suitcase away without either of us saying anything at all.

I stand by the car like a fucking fool, wondering how I got so attached.

I’m not some weak-willed romantic. Before I met Sabrina, I couldn’t give a shit about women—all I cared about was building my business. All I needed was my brothers.

Then I saw her and everything changed.

I came to Croatia to win her over, telling myself she could be an asset, just like Sloane said. And I still believe I was right about that. But that’s not why I’m here. That’s not why I want her to come with me.

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