Page 113 of Phantom
“So… so he didn’t know that my father told a shadow about the Chatelains’ scheme?”
She shakes her head. “No. I had no idea it was your father either. Mr. Bordeaux kept his informants’ identities close to the vest and never shared business dealings with Sol or Ben. He’d wanted to wait until they were adults.”
The truth lodges emotion in my throat. “I… had no idea.”
I had no idea about any of it. When I went after my father’s murderer, I wasn’t thinking about how I was killing someone who was fleeing from me. I was thinking about revenge. Sol protected me from getting charged for murder after unloading the gun into the assassin’s chest. And I hadn’t known it, then, but he’d also protected me from Rand retaliating. I owe him my life.
“Run to Sol,” she commands me and points to an open trapdoor in the rooftop. “That will take you the way we went last week. Keep your hand at eye level and never let it leave the wall. It’ll keep you from getting lost. I’ll text him he’s got a new prisoner to deal with in the morning.”
My eyes blink and I realize that relief, fear, and rage has finally made the tears that had been threatening to fall stream down my cheeks.
“Th-thank you.” I choke out.
Sabine just nods. “I trusted a Chatelain when I was young, too. I was a new bodyguard and pissed that my boyfriend was trying to take down my boss. Laurent insisted on meeting me and I fell for it. Sol was just being a kid and snuck out to watch a band play. His father had to go find him. That’s when Sol was kidnapped and Mr. Bordeaux was murdered. I’ve been wanting to make amends for a decade.” She glances back at Rand before walking to him and twisting the knife farther in. Rand shrieks and recoils into a ball before finally passing out. She looks back up at me. “This may be my only chance. Run. Go to him. You need to be there before I text him or he’ll go ballistic.”
Nodding without another word, I stand up and run barefoot toward the trapdoor to follow her instructions. My ripped dress billows behind me as I race down the wrought iron stairs until I get to the bottom landing. As soon as my feet hit damp stone, I move away from the sound of rushing water on my left and find the stone wall on my right. Dragging my hand along it, I wind through the pitch-black tunnels.
When I round a corner, a dim lamp gleams just in front of me in the dark. I stagger with relief, but my wobbly legs make me trip and fall, landing hard on my knees. I feel for the wall again, finding steel instead.
Still on my knees, my heart pounding in my throat, I bang my fists against the steel and scream.
“Sol! Please help! I need you!”
The door underneath my fingers falls away as it swings open, and orange light glows behind Sol’s silhouette, making him look more like my demon of music than ever before. Tall, imposing, and backlit by hellfire.
His face is bare and he’s wearing a white dress shirt. His angry keloid and burn scars on his face have a beautiful sheen under the light. Pain and remorse make my insides twist.
I didn’t trust him, and he was right about everything. Will he forgive me?
Concern flares over his harsh features as he looks down at me, lighting a fire of hope in my chest. His brows draw together over his midnight eye and the pink socket beside it, and his strong jaw tics.
My breath heaves in my chest as he lifts my chin to turn my face toward the light before growling.
“Who the fuck hurt you, little muse?”
Scene 29
PLEADING IN MOONLIGHT EYES
Sol
Scarlett kneels before me, trying to catch her breath. The view would normally please me and have my cock twitching in my pants, but the look of despair marring her gorgeous face raises the hair on the back of my neck, prompting me to scan the rest of her.
Her black satin dress has a rip in the plunging neckline and a bruise is forming on her cheek. That’s all I need to see to know that someone is going to die tonight.
Fury builds in my chest like a wildfire, ready to burn whoever the fuck touched my muse this way. I breathe slow, heavy breaths in and out of my nose, attempting to calm down. She seems terrified enough, and I don’t want to make it worse. I tilt her head to examine the damage and use my thumb to swipe a tear trailing down her flushed cheek.
“You were right,” she whispers. “About all of it. About Rand—”
Hatred stokes the fire in my chest like gasoline, but I don’t say a word. She tries to avert her gaze, but I don’t let her, tightening my grip on her chin.
“He’s a monster. He said he’s behind my father’s death. He tried to—” She swallows. “Hurtme. He was going to fake my suicide and then go after your family next.”
The blood in my veins burns with rage. This Chatelain fool thinks he can fuck with what is mine? Hurting Scarlet is a direct attack against me and Rand knows it.
It’s a declaration of war.
I’d thought Rand was just an insolent fop. I miscalculated in thinking he’s the same soft kid I grew up with. Ben was right, he’s just as evil as Laurent, maybe worse if I don’t remedy this.
