Page 84 of Deadly Rival

“Yeah?” He pauses tidying a cupboard and looks over.

“Does Sebastian know? Does he know what’ll happen to him if I don’t complete the ceremony?”

Wade smirks. “Yep. He must be shitting himself.”

He knew. All this time, he knew, and he told me how to free myself anyway. Why? Does he have some other agenda I don’t know about? Or is it possible, just maybe, that he cares that much?

That he wants me to be happy and is willing to sacrifice himself for it?

The door opens, and Sebastian steps through, a big smile on his face and my leash in his hand.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sebastian

Ophelia smiles as Ienter, but it’s a brittle expression. Her face is pale. I frown and take her hand as she gets to her feet. “Is everything okay?”

She meets my gaze. “Yes. I’m just tired. And hungry. It was a busy shift.”

“She did great,” Wade says. I hadn’t even noticed him lurking in the corner. I’m not sure I like him but can’t put my finger on why. He seems nice enough.

“Of course she did. She’s amazing.” I hold out my hand, and Ophelia clutches it, gripping hard. There’s something desperate about it, as though she’s drowning.

Something is bothering her. I mean, of course something is. Throw a dart at Ophelia’s brain, and you’d hit a million things that might be stressing her out. She’s a captive. Her brother is dead. Her dad is an asshole, and she’s about to go back to him. Her head must be a scary place full of shadows. I should take her home and let her rest.

But actually, fuck that.

This could be her last night here. It could be my last night alive. I’m not going to spend it moping about, and neither is she. Once we’re clear of the med center doors, I clip her leash to her collar and set off in the opposite direction from my apartment.

“Where are we going?” Her voice is still distant, as though she’s not really interested in the answer.

“Out.” Mysterious and cryptic. Hopefully annoying enough to pull her out of her own head.

It works, of course. She looks at me properly, eyes focused. “Out to where, sir?”

She gives the title a playful, almost sarcastic lilt. I don’t think I’m supposed to like it, but I do. Oh God, she’s not going to turn into a brat, is she? I’m the worst possible person to enforce rules. I don’t even bother about the ones I make for myself. Most of the time, I can’t remember what I’ve said. I need her to be sensible enough to keep track.

Focus. It won’t matter tomorrow anyway.

“You’ll see. What’s your favorite type of champagne?”

She blinks at the question but gives it thought. “I know it’s a little tacky, but Krug Rose. I like the sweetness.”

The girl has taste. I knew it.

“Well, you’re in luck. We have the best wine cellars in the world.” I steer her toward the quaint little social hub, with its cobblestones and old-fashioned signs. We stop outside the bar.

It’s still early, and a weekday, so there are only a few patrons already drinking—an ancient couple at a table outside, two middle-aged Brothers perched on barstools arguing about something, and four women dressed for the country club, chatting at a table inside. I scan them quickly. No Portia, thank God. I don’t need to deal with the formidable Queen Bee of the Wards right now.

Ophelia pauses, studying the bar. “It looks so normal.”

I’m not sure if she’s talking to herself or to me, but I answer anyway. “After a while, it is normal.”

We head inside. The bar has a speakeasy feel, dark wood and velvet furniture. It feels like it should smell of smoke, but cigarettes are banned inside here just like they are everywhere else. Not that I’ve ever smoked. I tried it once and threw up in a bush.

I lead Ophelia to a cozy booth right at the back, tucked away from prying eyes. The bartender arrives right away. Though he’s in his seventies and dresses like it’s 1940, we’re good friends, Michaele and I. Always keep the most important people close.

He grins at me, showing a gold tooth. “Sir! I thought you must have fallen down a well, it’s been so long. I’ve got some interesting new drops I think you’d enjoy. Should I bring up a selection?”

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