Page 28 of Promised to the Ruthless Laird
CHAPTER TWELVE
The door to Edin’s chamber flew open with a force that rattled the iron latch. Edin barely had time to turn her head before Finley strode inside, his chest rising and falling like he’d sprinted across the grounds. His presence filled the space; too large and full of unchecked rage.
“What the hell are ye daein’?” she snapped, sitting up on the bed to face him. “Ye cannae come stormin’ in here like a madman. This is Triad ground.”
Finley’s lips curled, his hand clenching at his side. “Is that what this is, then? Is that what it is tae ye?”
Her fingers twitched at her skirts, but she kept her expression smooth. She wouldn’t let him rile her. “Aye,” she said coolly. “An’ ye’d dae well tae remember it.”
His nostrils flared, his face dark with emotion. For a moment, she thought he might lunge. The air between them crackled,heavy with unspoken fury, with years of silence and suffering now unraveling in a matter of breaths.
“Christ above, Edin, ye speak o’ it like it’s naught but a trade.” His voice was rough, edged with disbelief, with something raw an’ wounded beneath the anger. “Ye kent. All this time, ye kent where she was.”
She inhaled sharply, forcing herself to hold his gaze, though her insides twisted like a rope stretched too tight. She should’ve seen this coming. Finley was not a man given to silence when he felt himself wronged, and right now, he looked ready to tear the walls down. There was a madness in his eyes, the kind born from grief left untended, from desperation left to rot into something bitter and wild.
“Nay,” she admitted, voice steady, though her pulse beat like a war drum in her throat. “The Triad did. Nae me.” It was the truth, but the words felt thin, fragile. He would not accept them so easily.
His jaw clenched, and his fists, already curled at his sides, tightened further. She could see the way his breath heaved in his chest, as if each inhale stoked the fire in his blood rather than calmed it.
“And what? Ye thought it fine, then? Thought it naught but another secret tae hoard?” His voice had dropped to something lower, quieter — deadlier. The rage had not lessened, only shifted.
She swallowed, refusing to let him see how deep his words cut. “I was given access tae this place tae help yer case, Finley. That’s why we came here.”
“That’s nae an answer,” he shot back, stepping closer. “That’s an excuse.”
She held her ground. “It’s the truth.”
Finley’s breath came sharp, his jaw working like he was biting back a curse. “An’ ye didnae think tae tell me? Me family has given everything tae the Triad. Everything. An’ yet, ye let me believe she was lost.”
His fury battered at her, but Edin held firm. It had been her decision to bring him here, to reveal the truth. That had to count for something. “Information is power, Finley. It isnae given freely.”
Finley let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “So that’s it, then? That’s why ye brought me here? Because me family finally paid the right price?”
Edin lifted her chin. “Aye.”
His gaze turned sharp, searching her face for something — anger, regret, perhaps even guilt. But she had nothing to offer him. This was how the world worked. Information had its cost, same as any other commodity.
“An’ what price was that, then?” he asked, voice quiet but no less dangerous.
She exhaled, watching him close. “Nae silver, if that’s what ye’re askin’. Yer family’s bond tae the Triad goes deeper than coin.”
Confusion flickered in his eyes. “I dinnae ken what ye mean.”
Edin tilted her head, considering him. He truly didn’t know. He’d grown up close to the Triad, yet blind to its history. Perhaps it was better that way. But she was done with secrets.
“Yer grandmaither,” she said. “She was one o’ us.”
The silence stretched thick between them.
Finley shook his head, a rough breath leaving him. “Nay. That’s nae’—”
“It is,” she interrupted. “She was handed over as a lass. Trained. Shaped. It’s why yer family ties run so deep. Why ye were allowed this knowledge now.”
His hands fisted at his sides, his entire body tight with tension. “An’ ye think that makes it right?”
She sighed, weariness creeping into her bones. “It isnae about what’s right, Finley. It’s about how things are.”
His gaze burned into hers, disbelief warring with betrayal written across his face.
