Page 40 of Sanctuary

“Connor,” I whispered, “I can explain—”

“Later,” he said, his voice softer than I expected. “Right now, we need to deal with him.”

Craven laughed again, blood dribbling down the sides of his mouth. “You’re a fool, O’Brien. She’ll slit your throat in your sleep. It’s what she’s trained to do.”

Connor’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Last words?”

“You think killing me solves anything?” Craven spat. “Matheson will send others. You’ll never be safe. Neither of you will—”

The gunshot split the night, echoing through the trees and sending a murder of crows scattering from their perches. Craven’s head snapped back, a neat hole appearing between his eyes, and then he was still.

Connor lowered the gun, his face expressionless. “Get in the truck,” he said quietly. “We need to move.”

Before I did that, I had something that I needed to do. I took the gun from Connor’s hand and emptied the chamber into Craven.

Passing it back to him, I walked to the truck, every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I climbed into the passenger seat. Connor slid behind the wheel, tucking the gun away before starting the engine. The headlights illuminated Craven’s body, already looking smaller in death, before he turned the truck around and accelerated down the road.

We drove in silence for several miles, the only sound was the rumble of tires on asphalt and my own ragged breathing. I stared straight ahead, unable to look at him, terrified of what I might see in his eyes.

“You’ve known longer than you're admitting, haven’t you?” I finally asked, my voice barely audible above the engine.

Connor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I started to put it all together the first night in Niagara Falls.”

I swallowed hard. “And you didn’t say anything.” It wasn’t a question.

He shook his head slightly. “I wasn’t sure what to say. Or what was real.”

The implication hung between us like a physical presence. He’d known my cover was fake, that I wasn’t who I claimed to be, and yet, he married me, and he’d still come for me when it mattered.

“Matheson will send others,” I echoed Craven’s warning, my voice hollow. “He wasn’t bluffing about that.”

“I know.” His profile looked like it was carved from granite in the dashboard light, jaw clenched tight. “Technically, I’m not the captain of the clan until I have my swearing in ceremony.”

We passed through a small town, its streetlights casting intermittent shadows across his face. In those brief illuminations, I caught glimpses of something I couldn’t quite read— anger, certainly, but also determination. And beneath it all, hurt.

“I need to know,” he said finally, “did you feel anything? Between us or was it all fake too?”

The question struck me like a physical blow. I’d been prepared for his rage, even disgust. But not this raw vulnerability.

“Yes of course! With every fiber of my being. It started at Wren and Declan’s wedding,” I whispered, the words clawing their way out of my throat. “That’s why I couldn’t—why I failed to—” I broke off, unable to finish.

“Is she even your sister?”

“That part is true. Wren and I are half sisters. That’s why they sent me to take care of Declan.”

Connor nodded once, processing. “Your real name. Give me that much.”

“Amelia,” I said after a moment’s hesitation. “Amelia Sutton.”

We lapsed into silence again as the truck ate up the miles, putting distance between us and what we’d left behind. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving me bone-weary and trembling.

“There’s a motel up ahead,” he pointed out the windshield towards the neon lights. “We’ll stop for the night, regroup. Figure out our next move.”

As he pulled into the parking lot of a run-down motel, I finally found the courage to ask what I’d been dreading.

“Are you going to tell Declan and Rory about me?”

Connor cut the engine and turned to face me fully for the first time since we’d fled. His eyes searched mine, and I forced myself not to look away, to let him see whatever he was looking for.

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