Page 12 of Unveil
Unamused, he scowls, but the killer scars on half of his face barely move. Those wounds are nothing we haven’t seen before, but my own tight, rough palms itch in empathy. I wonder if Hatch feels it too.
I look away, wishing the curtain would rise already and unveil my little bird again. I need her to help me ignore the ghostly scream in my mind.
Even six years later, it’s deafening.
As if he hears it, Sol’s voice lowers reverently. “I’m sorry about Queenie.”
I bristle and feel my brothers doing the same.
“She was a good woman, and the reason I didn’t have you kicked out immediately,” Sol adds, no heat behind the statement, just facts. “It’s hard when they’re gone. The loss…” He shakes his head.
The lump in my throat feels more like a serrated blade as I clear it. The suffocating guilt remains, though, its weight caving my chest in since that night.
“I heard you’ve suffered the same losses,” I offer. His mother died a few years ago, and, more recently, Madam G, a woman Luna considers a second grandmother, passed too. “My condolences.”
There’s a beat of silence in box six as pandemonium reigns below, the contrast as stark as two enemies confronting the other’s humanity.
This is why I believe in the pact. The Troisgarde may despise us, but we’ll do whatever it takes to ally with men who have the capacity to both kill for their family and mourn with the enemy who’s lost his. Those are people the King Fury branch can trust.
At this point, Troisgarde or not, after watching Luna Bordeaux as long as I have, I’ll do anything to make her mine, even if she hates me for it.
It’s not exactly a new concept in the King Fury playbook, after all.
My phone vibrates in my hand.
Speak of the devil.
I peek at the screen.
King
Midnight.
My eyes roll. Of course he’d send this reminder. Only catch is,I’mnot the one who swore to be hands-off until the stroke of midnight on her twenty-second birthday. I tried, I really did. Hell, I’m still trying. King would skin my hide if he ever found out I’ve already broken that part of the pact. Not that it’ll matter after tonight.
“How’s King?” Sol asks dryly as I slide my phone inside my pocket unanswered.
He couldn’t have read past the privacy screen, but he filled in the blanks. Or the Phantom’s fucking psychic. Wouldn’t be surprised, honestly.
“Did you tell him that my daughter will never marry into a family that ranges from professors to criminal lowlifes?”
Can’t argue with that one.
“Sounds like she’ll feel right at home,” I drawl, earning another scowl. “And that we’re the perfect fit to protect her.”
“So you say, but if my daughter needs protecting, it’s only because King started this war.”
“No. You did, with a vow you’re now trying to break.”
“Vow or not, you’ve lost. If you knew anything about my daughter, you would’ve known she’s in love with someone else. The Thrashers are good folks. Ozias’s father and I have been friends for years. Shame you wasted your time?—”
Luna’s name is called, and we both fall silent as she glides past the curtain, spinning into an almost perfect fouetté.
“Flawless,” Sol whispers. “That’s my girl.”
I chuckle. “Ourgirl’s about two shots deep.”
He frowns at my observation, but I just watch with pride as she beckons everyone out from behind the curtain, encouraging them to experience the most deafening roar of applause yet.
