Page 80 of Scythe & Sparrow
BATTLEGROUNDS
Fionn
My brother stares at me, his face a study in pain.
I feel like I’m struggling to break the surface and take a breath. I’m still drowning in Rose’s declaration.I love you, Fionn Kane, her voice echoes in my mind. Her words didn’t just slip into the world. They crashed into me. They swept clean the sediment of the other life that’s been crumbling in my grip from the first moment we met. It was like a break between two realities. The man I’ve been trying to be. The one I am. The one who is hopelessly in love with Rose Evans. The one who would do anything for her, even tear out his heart.
Lachlan watches me like he’s expecting something. Like despite how much pain he must be feeling, he still has room in his heart to feel pity. Maybe disappointment.
I swallow. “Keep her safe,” I say, my voice threatening to close around the words.
“I will. I promise.” With one decisive nod, Lachlan turns away and jogs after Rose.
I turn my attention back to Bentley, wiping my eyes with my blood-spattered sleeve. “Okay, my guy. Please don’t bite my hand off,” I say as I press my knee to his neck in case he tries to thrash. “You’re not going to like this.”
I find the source of the bleed and start a vascular ligation figure-eight suture. It’s messy. With a sewing needle and a pair of scissors and a very unhappy, unsedated dog, I’ve got my work cut out for me. But I manage to get the nicked artery closed off in a few moments that feel hours long. As soon as the stitch is pulled tight, I toss the needle on the floor and heave the dog into my arms, heading through the open door.
“You need to stop eating so much bacon. You must weigh a hundred and fifty pounds.” Bentley’s responding grumble becomes a whine as I jostle him on our way down the stairs. It’s a sound that catches in my chest like a barb every single time I hear it. “Andthat’sthe reason I never entertained vet school. I’m sorry, buddy.”
We’re nearing the bottom of the stairs when I hear Lachlan’s voice outside, followed by Rose’s clipped reply. I was so busy patching up the bleed in Bentley’s side that I didn’t consider the possibility that Rose would still be within reach. And now that’s the only thing that matters. To reach her in time.
I hurry my steps. I need to see her face. She told me she loves me. And I was so shocked not just by her words, but by everything they unlocked, that I made the worst mistake of my life.
I didn’t say it back.
“Rose,” I call out, just as two car doors close in quick succession. “Rose.”
The engine of the Charger roars to life.
“Wait,” I beg, even though I already know they’ll never hear me. I crash through the door with the dog in my arms just as they peel away from the building in a speeding mass of black metal. I watch as the car roars to the end of the street and drifts around the corner, the tires squealing. In a flash of light on polished chrome, they’re gone.
“Fuck,” I hiss, and the dog whines again as though agreeing with me.
I manage to open the door of the rental and get the dog into the back seat, and then I run to the driver’s side. I have no fucking idea where the nearest emergency vet is. I’m searching for one on my phone when a text comes in from Rose.
Montague Muffins, INC, 2008 Woodland Road, Portsmouth.
I’ll be there as soon as I can.
She doesn’t respond.
I find a vet a few blocks away and speed there. Bentley is still panting, whining every few minutes. After I get to the clinic and park at the curb, the dog mounts a grumbling protest at the indignity of being carried, but he doesn’t have enough fight in him to argue. I burst through the doors, and by sheer luck, it’s his regular veterinary office. They whisk him from my grasp as I relay what little information I have in rapid fire. I give them my credit card and phone number, and then I’m back in my vehicle in under ten minutes.
As soon as I’m sitting in the driver’s seat, I press my forehead to the steering wheel and close my eyes.What the fuck am I doing?Rose wasright there, saying the words I’ve wanted to say to her, offering her heart to me like she couldn’t bear to keep it when she should be protecting every broken shard. And after everything that happened yesterday and the sleepless night that followed, I hesitated, too shocked to process what was happening or how monumental it was. It’s as though I’ve spent years looking at a broken puzzle, and with one final piece, everything suddenly fit together.
Everything makes sense because of Rose.
I open my eyes and look to my right. Her tarot cards are scattered across the passenger seat and footwell. I hastily gather them up. All but three are facedown. Of the face-up cards, one is a knight, riding into battle with a sword held high. The other is three longswords facing downward, with a fourth lying beneath the tomb of a knight, the Roman numeral IV in the top left corner. The last is a reaper, a scythe gripped in his skeletal hand. I flip them over as I place them back into the deck and rest them on the seat. I’m just about to look for the leather pouch when my phone buzzes in my free hand. It’s not Rose, like I hoped it would be. It’s Leander.
You are not at the airport, Dr. Kane.
I don’t reply, selecting Rose’s message instead so I can copy the address into my map before I pull into traffic.
I know I can’t get away from Leander Mayes. Not forever. But I need to get to Rose. So I race through traffic. I cut people off.Swerve from one lane to the next. I jump the curb. Weave into the oncoming lane. Sweat mists my brow. The beat of my heart dampens the sound of horns as other drivers tell me off. But I don’t fucking care who I piss off or smash up. I will plow through this whole fucking city if that’s what it takes. I need to fix this. I need to tell her everything I should have in a moment that slipped through my fingers. Hell is going to have to wait.
In a chaos of squealing tires and adrenaline, I finally make it out of the city and onto I-95, heading north to Portsmouth. I’ve just passed Danvers when my phone rings.
Leander’s name appears on the dashboard screen.
