Page 64 of Ruthless Moon

Then my gaze drifts to Sebastian at Liam’s right shoulder, who’s not looking at me at all. He’s looking across the street. Very intently distracted by several people in cloak-and-dagger outfits.

Talia. What the hell would she be doing spying on my wedding rehearsal? Meredith isn’t here. Neither is Emma.

Rachel crouches next to me and Aiden. “Don’t,” she whispers into my ear, grabbing my hand to help me stand.

Aiden takes my other hand and I climb back to my feet, still unable to take my eyes from Sebastian and the group across the street. Their hoods shadow their faces, but I know one of them has to be Talia.

Gently, Rachel places a hand on my arm, her touch grounding. “Focus, Gen,” she says softly, her voice barely audible.

Uncle Dave has moved away now. Aiden returned to his place at the front with the preacher. My father is yelling at another employee about their incompetence.

“I know,” I reply, my voice equally hushed. I reach down and slip off the shoe with the broken heel as well as its match and set them down on one of the white folding chairs. “It’s just...she’s here. Why?”

Rachel shrugs. “I have a feeling there’s way more going on than she shared in Denver. And probably the only one who knows how bad it is that she and others have shown up here is—”

“Meredith.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Rachel picks up the shoes and tucks them into her arms. “I have a backup pair in my car.”

I nod. She’s right, though. I need to focus on what’s in front of me. The immediate threats—my father’s fury, my impending wedding to Aiden, and the emotional tornado that is Liam.

Still, I can’t seem to tear my gaze from the hooded figures. Then briefly one of them moves, the sun shows her face, and her eyes meet mine from across the distance. The moment is fleeting, but it’s enough to send a shiver down my spine. Her gaze is inscrutable, full of secrets, and for a brief moment, I feel like she’s sending me a silent message.

Except I don’t know what the message is supposed to be.

But then she’s gone, disappearing back into the shadows of the city streets.

“Thanks,” I tell Rachel absently, realizing she’s still standing there next to me. I nearly forgot all about the broken heel.

Wedding tomorrow.

Fuck.

Time to keep playing the blushing bride. I curl my bare toes against the cool stone and then march toward Aiden. We still have to make it through the rehearsal dinner.

Chapter Twenty-Three

More Blood

LIAM O’CONNOR

At the rehearsal dinner, I find myself a distant observer, propped against the wall in the shadows of the steak house dining room. The colossal table in the center serves as a corral, penned in by a herd of caterers moving with the grace of well-trained cutting horses.

But in the midst of this choreographed dance of caterers and crystal flutes, all I can taste is bitter loss.

Aiden and Gen sit with their backs to me. They are so close and yet unreachable.

Across from them, Oliver, the true predator of this grand scene, observes everything with an icy gaze. Typically, his expression doesn’t hint at an emotion, but tonight he’s as stirred up as a disturbed rattler, and he’s not hiding it. His anger bristles in the static air of the room.

What did I miss?

My gaze sweeps over the room again, searching for the slightest rustle in the undergrowth. As an enforcer and guard, it’s my job to see through the orchestrated chaos and noise.

The way one caterer’s forehead is glistening even though the room is air-conditioned. The way another’s hand trembles. The way they all move almost normally but hesitate with each step, as if climbing through barbed wire.

Eleanor sits at her son’s right hand, every bit the picture of poise and polish. Yet her eyes occasionally mist over, and the corners of her mouth tug downward when she thinks no one is looking. Both Meredith and Rachel are seated at Gen’s left, their heads close together, lips moving, but I can hear their hushed whispers.

Across the table, Emma sits solemnly, and next to Oliver Gallagher is youngest son Finn. His fingers drum anxiously on the tabletop, while his father shifts restlessly in his chair, both avoiding direct eye contact with the other.

---