Page 96 of Shattered Fate

“Gage,” Linc says again, his voice firm.

People start to stare at us, and my worst nightmare is coming true. I’m causing trouble because I’m dirty, and Senator Cook knows it. He’s one of them. One of the men who heard the stories, maybe fantasized about doing those things to me while his friends bragged.

“I know what this is,” Senator Cook says, a grotesque smile on his face. “You’re picking up where Max left off. I see it now. Have his leftovers. He was always better than you.”

Gage sags. “Yeah. He was.”

“Mr. Davenport.” A distinguished man wearing a tux and black-framed glasses approaches our group, oblivious to the tension, and shakes Gage’s hand. “Kyle Hall, Editor-in-Chief. We’re about ready to start. Let me extend my gratitude on behalf of theChronicleyou were willing to accept Max’s award. Had he been able to finish it, the partial exposé he sent me right before his death would have made him a world-renowned journalist. I’m sorry he’s not here to reap the rewards.”

“We all are.”

Senator Cook touches my shoulder, and I quake in my heels. “Miss Maddox, let me say, you look very beautiful tonight. I’m sure all the men here would love to...have you.”

“That’s enough, Cook, or I’ll bust your teeth out myself,” Linc says, pulling me away. “Delilah, muzzle your husband. The self-righteous asshole.”

“I have no idea what’s going on. Rourke, tell me what’s happening.” Gage’s mother sounds truly baffled, but it does little to improve the situation.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble to Gage as Linc pulls out my chair at a table in the front of the room. I look wildly around for Stella and Zane, but I don’t see them in the crowd. “I’m sorry. This is my fault and I should go—”

Gage captures my face between his hands and forces me to look into his eyes. “You’re not leaving, and nothing is your fault. Breathe, Zarah. I love you, and I’m never going to stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t know him. I’ve never met him and he hates me, and I’m sorry—” I end on a whimper.

Panic bubbles up my throat, and I try to push it back but I can’t. Senator Cook knows what Ash made me do, and it scares me because I can see it on his face. He wants the chance to do the same thing.

He wants to hurt me.

Punish me.

Gage rests his forehead against mine. “Breathe. Breathe. Focus on where you are. He can’t hurt you. I’m here, and so is Pop. Zane and Stella. I love you. God, Zarah, I love you so much.”

His words center me, and I rest my hands on the tops of his, letting his strength hold me up. I concentrate on his cologne, the woodsy, earthy scent that reminds me of the forest near our house. I detect a little bit of dog on him, too, and I smile, thinking about Baby. “Okay. But why, tell me why he hates me.”

Everyone is rushing around, trying to find their seats, and the editor of theChronicleis hovering, wanting a last minute word with Gage before he takes the stage. Ignoring all of it, he whispers, “He wanted Max to be with someone else. Max told him he was in love with you and Rourke didn’t like it. It has nothing to do with you. He had plans for Max that Max didn’t want to follow. That’s all. I promise.”

Slowly, my erratic heartbeat returns to normal and the sweat cools on my skin. Senator Cook didn’t want Max to be with me. I could let that hurt, but I actually understand. When Zane released me from Quiet Meadows, I was mixed up, mentally and emotionally wounded, and scared. There was no way Max and I could have had a healthy relationship, not then, and Max’s dad knew that. “He blames me for Max’s death.”

“I don’t know, Zarah. I really don’t. If he knew Max at all, he would have known Max was stubborn, and once an idea got into his head, a rock to turn over, a lead to chase down, an article to write, nothing stopped him. I’m sorry, I need to go up there.” He kisses my forehead and reluctantly, I let him go.

“Are you going to be all right?” Linc asks, pushing my glass of Perrier to me. The ice melted, but I sip, the water soothing the blaze in my throat.

“Yes. Thank you. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, darlin’, but sometimes a little trouble can be a good thing, and Gage is an expert.” His eyes twinkle with amusement.

I open my mouth to reply, but Zane and Stella sit at the table, holding hands and chatting. They’re having a good time and missed what happened. I’m glad. Zane looks at me, and I force myself to smile. I hope it’s convincing. All this has been so hard on him and I don’t want to give him something else to worry about.

The ballroom quiets as people settle into their seats. Someone stops the slideshow and brightens the lights.

I’ve lost sight of Senator Cook and his wife, but they’re probably close by. I wonder why Max’s father isn’t accepting the award on his son’s behalf, or even his mother. Maybe this was part of Max’s wishes, like asking Gage to watch over me.

What else did Max leave behind?

Kyle Hall takes his place behind the podium and the murmuring stops. I don’t see Gage. He must be waiting behind the one of the curtains that flank the dais. People sip on their drinks and rearrange their cutlery, and Mr. Hall organizes his notes and waits for everyone to give him their attention. He reminds me of Max. Confident, but scholarly, intelligent. I don’t mean that Gage isn’t smart, but he exudes control in a different way. More blatant, maybe. Rougher. Not any more masculine than Kyle Hall because the editor-in-chief of theKing’s Crossing Chronicleis handsome. One woman behind me agrees. He begins to speak and she sighs.

“Thank you for coming out tonight to honor one of the kindest, most compassionate reporters I have ever worked with.Maxwell Cook started at theChroniclearound the same time I accepted the promotion to editor-in-chief. I pegged him as a cub reporter, a bloodhound puppy sniffing out a trail, poking his nose into everyone’s business hoping to stumble upon a juicy story. I feared one day the police would find him in the gutter riddled with bullet holes or wearing concrete shoes at the bottom of the Renegade. That’s not me being glib, that was a real concern, and I spoke to him often, trying to guide him onto the right road. He accused me of taking the path of least resistance, of taking the easy way out. He had an idealistic view of how things could be, hoping he could make this world a better place. He did, but in the end, it would cost him his life. I didn’t know he’d started investigating the deaths of Lark and Kagan Maddox. I had no idea, and if I had? Knowing what I know now? I would have tried to convince him to leave it alone. And he would have told me to go to hell.”

The audience laughs.

---