Page 155 of The Thief
"Freddie—"
"No." His voice is flat, non-negotiable. "You stay here, where it's safe."
"What if it's a trap? What if he's not really there?"
"Then we deal with that. But you're not walking into potential gunfire."
Henry moves into the room fully. "I'll stay here with Alastríona. Make sure she's protected."
"You should go with them," I protest. "This is your fight too."
"My fight is keeping you safe. That's what Killian would have wanted."
The mention of my father makes my chest tight. Everything we're doing, everything we're risking, it all comes back to him. To choices he made, loyalties he maintained, a life he tried to keep separate from the violence.
"How long will you be gone?" I ask Freddie.
"As long as it takes."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have."
He comes to me and takes my face in his hands. His touch is gentle despite the weapons he's carrying, despite the violence he's planning.
"I need you safe," he says. "I need to know you're here, protected, waiting for me to come back."
"And if you don't come back?"
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He kisses me, hard and desperate, like he's trying to memorize the taste of me. I kiss him back with the same intensity, the same fear that this might be the last time.
"I love you," I whisper against his mouth.
"I love you too. More than anything."
Then he's gone, and I'm left standing in Henry's study with the echo of his footsteps and the weight of words that felt like goodbye.
Henry settles into his chair and pours himself a whiskey even though it's barely noon.
"He'll come back," he says.
"You can't know that."
"I know the kind of man he is. I know what you mean to him. He'll come back."
I hope he's right. But hope's a dangerous thing in our world, where good men die and bad men prosper, where love is a weakness enemies exploit.
"Tell me about your kids," I say, needing distraction from thoughts I can't control.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything. What they were like."
