Page 146 of Black Bird

Dahlia looked away, lifting her skirts with her free hand, and continuing up the stairs. “That’s correct.”

“Is that why you’re different with me? Because you feel it, too?”

“Perhaps.” She stopped them on a step and turned to face him. “What is it that you think I feel for you, Patrick?”

Patrick’s breathing shuddered and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I was hoping that you loved me. The way that I love you.”

Dahlia felt the war rage within her and her breathing quickened. She leaned in and kissed him, and he returned it with that same eagerness he’d had for weeks. She fought it off and broke away. “I do.” She gripped his hand and started back up the stairs, pulling him along with her. It wasn’t a lie. She truly did love him. Telling him that was the least she could do for her mate—the only one she’d ever have. Fate was putting up a brutal fight.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that. I thought—I thought you wanted that other guy.” Patrick followed her up to the landing at the top and then they started down a long hallway with a single door at the very end.

“You’re a good man, Patrick. One I don’t deserve, and likely never will. I really never expected to fall for you. Mate or not.”

“You deserve everything. You deserve love just as much as anyone else. I’m grateful that we met. I’m glad that I somehow ended up being the one to give it to you.” Another slash of Fate’s deadly blade. They approached the door, and she stopped them, turning him to face her and placing her hands on his face.

“The truth is, Patrick … I don’t have room for love. I only have room for power. I’ve built this empire from nothing, and sadly … there will only ever be one throne. And it belongs to me.” She battled with the ache in her chest as the bitterness of anguish settled over his familiar face.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you should have never come to this club. I’m saying that you should have had the gall enough to stand up for yourself and show that little bitch what she was giving up when she broke you. I’m saying that in my long years, Patrick … I’ve never experienced the pain that I feel, having met you. And it isn’t because I don’t love you. It’s because I do … and in doing so … I have to make this decision.”

Patrick’s eyes welled, and his breath hitched. “Make what decision, Dahlia?”

She blinked back tears and leaned in, kissing his lips. Her hands dropped away from his face, and she stepped back, straightening her spine. “Open the door.”

She could tell that he strained against her command but started moving toward it. She moved further into the darkness of the hallway. Patrick grabbed the handle and pushed it down, cracking the door open and harsh noon sunlight trickled in. He panicked, his breathing growing wild and tears flowing down his face. “Dahlia … Dahlia, please … don’t do this. Don’t do this, I love you.I love you!” The door opened wider, and he strained his chin over his shoulder to look at her. “Dahlia!”

“I love you, too. I’m sorry, Patrick.” A single tear crept down her cheek and her lip quivered. “Step out and close the door behind you.”

Patrick took two steps out onto the roof of the building and his screams bounced off every wall down the hall. Dahlia winced, catching a few seconds of his charring skin before he slammed the door closed. She started to cry a little harder then, rushing to the door and locking it as he beat against the other side and continued to scream. She turned andleaned her back against the door, sliding down it and crying harder as she slunk to the floor. He continued to beat on it and footsteps sounded from the stairwell ahead of her. Decclan and Devin barreled down the hallway, mouths gaping as Patrick’s cries started to finally die out and the beating stopped. The loss of his bond was an emptiness inside her that she’d never felt before, and she knew he was truly gone. It was a cold stab that pierced her evil soul. Neither one of them said anything. They only stood in shock and stared at her.

The quiet felt like a knife twisting in her chest. Fate had wounded her … but she delivered the killing blow. She gathered herself and slowly stood, peeling off her gloves and raising her face to the men. “Don’t leave him up there. At sundown, gather his ashes. Bring them to me.”

They parted and let her through as she walked forward and straightened herself. She raised her chin and refused to cry another tear as she slipped down the stairwell.

A Black Friday, indeed.

CHAPTER 25

SILVER LINING

Brandon Jenkins had never been much for secrets. He avoided drama at all costs. It was probably why he made a decent detective. Exposing said secrets and crushing drama under a badge. It was also likely the reason that the secret he was being forced to keep about the fierce woman that he loved, ate at him with such force that his very skin crawled with it. He had called so many times to that burner number Rhaena had been talking to him on, and after about the tenth try, she’d finally answered him. She had sounded so pitiful. So wrecked, and helpless. Knowing she wasn’t alone did little to keep his need to be with her at bay. She had finally given him a chance. He wanted her to know that he’d stand by her … no matter what she was, or how scary she thought it might be. He’d begged her to let him come up before she changed tonight, but she very forcefully denied him.

When they’d hung up, he made her promise that she’d speak to him again before sunset. He was hoping that she’d at least allow the call to stay open so he could offer his support through the line. Jenkins stopped for coffee at the truck that always posted up on the corner of 3rd and Main. They had the best roast in Boston, and it seemed like the vendor never ran out of fresh brew. He dialed Captain Foley, getting no answer. Once he’d paid and started making his way back to his car, he called again. This time, it didn’t even ring. It went straight to his voicemail.

“Hey, Cap. It’s Jenkins. Everything is fine, and I don’t have anything new to report. I was calling to let you know that I’d need the night off, but I’ll be available if you try to reach me for anything. There’s some personal things I need to handle today. Thanks, sir.”

He stepped off the curb and hot coffee spilled over his hand. He cursed, shaking it off, and abruptly turned back to grab napkins from the coffee truck. Agent Foster was standing behind him.

“They have caution labels on those cups for a reason, detective.” She offered him a napkin. “I used to find them really stupid, but I’m starting to understand their appeal.”

He took the napkin and wiped down the side of his paper cup. “Thanks.”

“Couldn’t help overhearing. Taking a personal day?” She sipped her own coffee and quirked a brow.

“I’m allowed that. Got some shit to take care of,” he said without looking at her, wiping down the front of his shirt.

“Mmm … wouldn’t have anything to do with your girlfriend, would it? Isn’t she on vacation as well?” Foster smiled and lowered her cup.

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