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He pulls me to him as my body starts to shake with the tears flowing freely. “What did it say?”
I choke back the ugly sob, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my pretty dress.
“What did it say, Bailey?”
I look up into those gorgeous cornflower eyes and inhale deeply before exhaling slowly. I reply steadily, feeling it in my very soul. “It said: Forgive him.”
ChapterFifty
Bailey
“Wow.”
Owen’s one-syllable sums up the entire evening.
Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow fucking wow.
“I’m guessing Laura sent it,” I sniffle, grateful when Gigantor from the door hands me a box of tissues.
“Must’ve, before she was taken.”
“Ifshe was taken. He’s a liar.”
“No, he is actually one of the most honest men I’ve ever come across. Brutally so. He learned at my dad’s side. This is starting to make a whole load of sense that I wish it didn’t.”
Blinking, I wipe my nose, about to ask what he means.
Archer strides over, concern on his features. “Bailey.”
Putting my hand up, I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. This is too much on top of everything else. I’m going home. Send my apologies to Duchess and Dormouse, please.”
Spinning, I reach for the exit and duck through, hurrying along the magical corridor as I’ve come to think about it and then ducking down to scurry through the low-level tunnel that leads outside.
“Bailey! Wait!”
Archer and Owen are on my tail, but I burst through the door into the dark, smelly night.
“Ah!” I cry when a pair of headlights flick on, blinding me. Bringing my hand up and turning away, a few seconds later, I’m grabbed from behind, the headlights illuminating the dim alley in all its gross glory.
“Ah!” I cry again, struggling with my attacker, tensing my arms to elbow him in the stomach. He grunts but doesn’t let go. Pain reverberates up my arm, making my arm go numb. I’ve knocked my “funny bone,” and now my arm is aching.
“Bailey! You’re in danger!” Archer thunders, storming out of the tunnel. “He’s trying a three-pronged attack…Fuck! Fuck! Let her go, you fucking wanker!”
“Dammit!” Owen exclaims, also joining us in the alley.
My attacker tightens his hold on me. I struggle, trying to get away.
Cold steel is placed to my throat, and I freeze before my hands automatically go up to his arm, which has a knife pressed against my skin.
“Hare, you seriously don’t want to do this. She is ours. By right and by blood.”
“Debatable,” Hare growls, his Liverpool accent heavy, and grating. He sniffs my hair and then lasciviously licks the side of my neck, making me shudder.
“Eww! Get off me!” I grit out, but he presses the knife deeper against my throat.
My dad sweeps out of the tunnel, his face frantic.
“Let her go!” my dad shouts.
