Page 111 of Inside the Wicked

“Lucky?” he repeats in a chilling calm. “Have you ever looked at a beautiful creature in a cage and called itlucky?Or a butterfly with broken wings? Or a bird without its song? They’re once vibrant things of nature, now broken to believe they’resafethat way.It’s not luck—it’s a fucking tragedy.”

Rhett shifts a gaze to me, and I can only meet it with understanding. His is weighted with a note of guilt.

“What if she doesn’t want to kill him? Or even want him dead at all,” Rhett says.

“I think she does,” I say, reflecting on the last time I saw her. I whisper, still haunted by the fact. “She was only fifteen.”

Silas’s dark gaze targets me immediately. “Only fifteen whenwhat?”

He knows. Yet he wants me to say it. I can’t. I’ve already said too much that wasn’t mine to share, but it’s the only way I’m sure Kenna would want to be free of Alistair.

Silas stands, taking one step toward me, and that’s when Rhett shoots up, beating him to me with an arm curving aroundmy waist. I can’t tear my gaze away from the palpable retribution simmering in those dark brown eyes.

“He raped her as a minor?” Silas asks plainly, but it’s wrapped in pure violence.

“I don’t know everything. All she told me was what I said.” If he wants the certainty, he has to earn that from her himself.

Silas targets Rhett, and my heart begins to speed up knowing he could turn on us at any moment. “And you still think you have the fucking right to his death?” Silas seethes.

My hand slips over Rhett’s in concern, but to my relief, his expression relaxes as he thinks. He knows that as much as his rage and vengeance have been the driving force of his life since Sarah was killed, he’s not had the time to consider there was someone else he knew still alive who might have suffered more than him.

“No,” Rhett concedes.

My body relaxes when some of the tension between them defuses. Rhett runs a hand through his hair as Silas goes back to the table and resumes his cigarette.

“I didn’t know she was still alive. I went back for her long ago, but he convinced me she was dead.” Rhett debates going on, but I think he sees how serious Silas is about her well-being. “Kenna Radley is not her birth name. The birth one is not mine to give, so don’t bother asking. It won’t help her escape Lanshall.”

“No, it won’t, but I fucking will.”

I run a hand up Rhett’s arm, but his body is locked stiff. “So you’ll be infiltrating Alistair’s manor the night of Jacob’s opening next week?” I ask Silas.

“One night, two bastards down. I’m a firm believer in swift efficiency. We should both walk away with what we want.”

“What happens after?” Rhett asks.

Silas breathes in a long drag, tipping his head against the sofa to cast the cloud into the air above. “I respect you, Kaiser. Wehave a common repulsion to human trafficking. That will stop in the networks I take over in D.C. But that’s where my promises to you end. If your guys mess with any other shipments and dealings of mine, I won’t call you before my guys put a bullet to their heads.”

“If they get caught before we succeed.”

Silas yields a hint of a challenging smile. “I’m not Lanshall or Forthson. That’s the only warning I’ll give you.”

Rhett gives a slight nod of his head, acknowledging the alliance will technically end, but I think they’ve gained a mutual respect for each other. It’s all I could have hoped for.

“I guess we’ll see you again when this is over,” Rhett says as a cue to leave.

“On the other side, my friend,” Silas says. His eyes slip to me as I reach Rhett and he takes my hand.

I don’t know why unease crawls in me. We have his word, but I can’t shake the feeling it could be voided for another price if the bidding is right. At the same time, there’s always been a feeling in my gut that inexplicably trusts him.

CHAPTER 40

Rhett

Inever thought I’d see myself on TV, and it’s weird as fuck.

“My kidnapper,” Ana muses, circling her arms around me from behind as I stand with arms crossed, glaring at the news report in the Den.

“You shouldn’t say that with pride,” I say, but I smile.

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