Page 18 of House of Soot

God, she talks about them with reverence like they’re fucking saints. Does she think she’s a saint too for having helped pull it off?

I want to shake her, force her to admit her role. How she showed Ronan the secret access into the house. How she traded my family's lives for whatever he promised her.

"You must have known them well, the family that died."

"The Ifrinns. They were kind to us. I was a kid, but Mom always said they treated staff like family."

The casual way she says my family's name makes me sick. I curl my fingers into fists, fighting the urge to confront her here and now.

But no. I need more than these vague memories. I need her to confess exactly what she did, what deal she made with Ronan. Only then will my revenge be complete.

Jenna traces her fingers along my chest, drawing invisible patterns that leave trails of fire on my skin.

She looks up at me with those damned innocent eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

I'm thinking about how impossible this feels. How someone capable of betraying my family to their deaths couldn't possibly have such kindness in their touch, such genuine warmth in their smile.

"Just… taking this all in."

“Have you ever been in love before?”

“No.” It’s true. Oh, sure, there have been a few women I’d enjoyed spending time with, but love was never a part of the relationship. I don’t have time for that. Not when for ten years my brothers and I have worked and plotted to take back what the Keans stole from us.

“Me neither.”

“Not even Ronan?” I arch a brow.

She gives me another one of the damned sweet smiles. “That was a silly crush.”

She killed my parents over a silly crush.

“You’re different. You’re real. You see me. I’ve never felt like this.” She burrows in closer to me. “You make me feel special.”

Fucking hell. I’m so confused. The calculating traitor who sold out my family doesn't match this woman who is handing over her heart, soul, and body to me.

"You are special," I say, and I hate how much I mean it. It has me questioning this whole situation. Could I be wrong? Is it possible she hadn’t helped Ronan access the house to kill my family?

I quickly dismiss my doubt. The facts are clear. Ronan told Lucy that Jenna Hart had shown him how to get into the house through a secret passage. He had no reason to lie considering he was planning on killing Lucy at the time. No, Jenna helped Ronan. My parents died because of the information she provided.

Jenna sighs contentedly against my chest, and I realize my biggest challenge isn't maintaining my cover. It's maintaining my conviction in her guilt. I need space. I need to think without her disarming presence clouding my judgment. I have a mission. I need to follow it through.

"We should head back." I push myself up, avoiding Jenna's questioning gaze.

She scrambles to get dressed, her movements quick and self-conscious. Different from the bold woman who gave herself to me less than ten minutes ago. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No." The word comes out harsh. I soften my tone. "Just need to get back to work. I imagine you do too.”

Her fingers fumble with her buttons. A lock of hair falls across her face, and I resist the urge to brush it away. Every touch feels like a betrayal now, of my mission, my family, myself.

We head back to our respective jobs on one of the gravel paths. Jenna's hand brushes against mine, and I fight the urge to intertwine our fingers. I maintain a careful distance, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her.

We reach the garden. "Blaise?" Her voice is small, uncertain.

"I'll see you tomorrow." I turn away before I can see her face fall, before I can reassure her and get ensnared by her again.

I stride toward the guard quarters. Behind me, I feel her watching, probably wondering what went wrong, how our perfect afternoon shattered so suddenly.

I wonder the same thing.

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