Page 52 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird
“So,” she said finally, keeping her tone even, unreadable. “Shall I go, then?”
His head lifted slightly, but he didn’t look at her. “What?”
“Me duty is done,” she clarified, turning to face him fully. “We found yer sister. That was all I was here fer, aye?” She arched a brow. “Unless ye’ve other plans?”
For a moment, he said nothing, only stared at the ground with a furrowed brow, his jaw tight. Then, finally, he let out a dry, humorless laugh.
“I thought this was what ye wanted,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Tae dae right by the Triad.”
Edin forced her expression into something unreadable, smoothing over any flicker of hesitation.
This was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? From the beginning. Serve the Triad, do her duty, and nothing more.
Yet hearing Finley say it now, so plainly, so easily, as if nothing between them had shifted, sent a sharp pang through her chest. How could he still think this was all there was to it? After everything they had been through together—was it only she who had begun to see things differently?
Or had he never changed at all? Was she the only one who was different now?
If he hadn’t changed, she had been foolish — foolish for no longer seeking the Triad’s approval. For what mattered to her now was Finley, his approval. She longed for his attention, his presence, and it pained her whenever he withdrew into silence, as he had earlier. The mission no longer held the weight for her it had once.
His approval mattered because it could bringhimhappiness, because it could give him the chance to reunite with his sister. And perhaps, just perhaps, it would allow her more time with him. But what came after? What was she meant to do when the task was completed?
Return to the Triad? Feign interest in rising through the ranks? Pretending that it mattered when, deep down, all she yearned for was to lie beside Finley, to banter with him endlessly, savoring the simplicity of being in his company.
“Aye,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “Once, maybe.” She shook her head. “But I cannae help but wonder now — who am I daein’ this fer? The Triad? Or fer meself?”
He turned to her then, properly, and the intensity in his gaze nearly made her look away. But she didn’t. She wanted him to see her now.
Edin let out a hollow chuckle. “Ye ken what I think? I think we’re the same, ye an’ I.”
His brows knit together. “What dae ye mean?”
She huffed, leaning back on her hands. “The only thing ye care about is yer family,” she said, her voice softer now, but no less certain. “Same as me wi’ the Triad. That’s the only thing that’s ever mattered.” She exhaled sharply. “An’ what happens tae us when this is done? When yer sister’s safe, when there’s nay more fightin’ tae be had?” She laughed, but there was no joy in it. “I ken well enough what’ll happen then. Ye’ll go home and marrysome fine lass yer family’s chosen fer ye.” She smirked, though she felt like screaming. “At least I dinnae have tae answer tae anyone but meself. I am free tae make whatever choice I want.”
“Ye think that’s what I want?” His voice was low, dangerous.
Edin shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I think it daesnae matter what ye want.”
For a long moment, he didn’t answer. The only sound was the wind whipping outside, rattling the tent’s canvas. Then, finally, he sighed, his shoulders sinking slightly.
“Stay,” he said, barely above a whisper.
Edin blinked. “What?”
His gaze found hers again, and this time there was no trace of anger — only something raw, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to name. “Stay,” he repeated, firmer now. “At least ‘til the battle’s done.” He swallowed. “We’ll talk after.”
She wanted to laugh, to dismiss the situation with a scoff, to throw out a sharp, cutting remark that would distance her from the vulnerability rising inside her.
But the raw truth was, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, to continue lingering in the warmth of whatever connection they shared, even if it was fleeting.
That truth — the depth of her desire to stay — terrified her more than anything. How long could she endure the slow unraveling of whatever it was between them, this connection she clung to, knowing all too well that it would come to an end?
Was it better to walk away now, in this instant, before things could get even more tangled? To push herself into the next mission, and the next, until the memories of him faded into the background?
Could she ever truly forget him? Would she ever be able to erase the way he made her feel, or the way everything seemed clearer when he was near? The idea of trying to forget felt almost impossible, yet the thought of facing the inevitable heartache was even worse.
Still, she nodded. “Aye,” she said, quieter now. “I’ll stay.”
But even as she said the words, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that when the battle was done, there’d be nothing left to say at all.
