Page 9 of Judgment Day

I was the reason Liam was lying in a coffin with three holes in his chest. I never should have asked him to get those names. I should have done it myself. My gaze settled on his pale skin, his stilled body and eyes closed in eternal slumber, and a sickening awareness twisted in my gut.It should have been me.

“I never got a chance to thank you for finding my dad and letting him know…” She shrugged one shoulder. “…you know, that I’m alive.” She whispered the last two words as if someone would hear.

“I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

She grinned. “All the more reason to thank you.”

Sometimes I wondered what she saw when she looked at me, what kind of life she’d lived to make her openly welcome my demons and call them herfriends. I would have said the Brotherhood did that to her, but Lyric was no stranger to the darkness long before Obsidian ever got hold of her. The way she loved a man like Lincoln so freely, so unconditionally, was proof of that. If her love brought forgiveness to his sins, maybe there was still hope for mine.

The service was a traditional mass. No eulogies, a lot of prayer, and a choir singing the twenty-third Psalm. Afterward, I walked Lyric to the back of the cathedral so she could leave easily with Lincoln without being seen.

She stared up at me with the storm of a thousand unspoken words swirling in her eyes. Then finally, she said, “Take care of yourself.”

I smiled, amused, always amused at what might come out of her mouth. “You’reworried aboutme?”

I knew what Lincoln and Lyric were doing for the girls we’d freed from that cottage. I knew what seeing something like that firsthand did to your soul. I hoped Lyric would survive it.

Then again, for four years, she’d survived me.

Lyric shrugged. “Someone has to.” Her eyes glinted. “Other than Mrs. McTavish.” Then she took Lincoln’s hand. He draped his other arm over her shoulder and pulled her close—a claiming. I opened the car door, and she ducked inside. Lincoln slid in next to her, his jaw tight.

“Goodbye, sweet Lyric.” I closed the door, then watched as the car pulled away.

Maybe I would see her again.

Maybe I wouldn’t.

At least, this time I got to say goodbye.

The harsh truth of that slammed into me, landing a blow to my chest I didn’t see coming.

Lincoln may not deserve her, but who was to say that after all the things I’d done that I deserved Sadie. He loved her enough to threaten me. That had to count for something.

Back inside the cathedral, I watched as Sadie broke away from the crowd and disappeared into the Sacristy.

I followed her into the room that was nothing more than a glorified storage space for religious vessels. The walls were a dark green with wood wainscoting. The wooden floor was covered in rich, wool rugs. There were shelves filled with books and metal rods where elaborate robes hung on velvet hangers. It was dark inside except for the soft glow of a single brass lamp.

Sadie’s back was to me. Her hands rested, flat, on a large wooden desk, and her head hung down. She wore an all black dress that caressed her curves, stopping above her knees. Long sleeves covered her slim arms, and black tights hid the creamy skin of her legs, skin I’d once had my hands on, my mouth on. She yanked the black hat from her head and slammed it on the desk with a heavy sigh. I wanted to take her pain and swallow it up so she would never be burdened with it again.

She spun around at the sound of the door clicking shut. God, she was remarkable. Sublime. An angel cloaked in darkness in this room filled with holy books, wine, and robes—things made for purification. For cleansing. It would take ten of these rooms to cleanse my soul.

I walked over to her, close enough to breathe her in, to feel the current of her nearness roll over my skin. “Are you okay?”

She gently shook her head and swallowed. “He was family.”

I felt that more than she knew.

Or maybe she did know because she looked up at me, broken and shattered and so goddamn intense that I didn’t give a damn about consequences anymore. Let the king walk in. Let the priest walk in.

I stepped closer, bracing my hands on the desk on both sides of her hips, pressing my body against hers. She was soft and supple.Pliant.My head dipped down, and my lips hovered centimeters above her skin. Her head tilted back, exposing the long column of her throat. For years, I’d watched her. We’d stood close but never touched. I’d breathed her in but never tasted her. I’d watched. And I’d waited. Years of need curled deep in my chest. I’d spent a lifetime of nights fisting my cock raw imagining this very moment. Now, it was here, and I felt like all it would take was one touch and this whole fucking place would burn down around us.

Do it.

Finally. Just. Fucking. Touch her.

My lips grazed the arch of her throat.

“Grey—” Her eyes fluttered closed as I moved my hand to the dip in her back and pressed her harder against me. Then, in an instant, as if she remembered where we were—who we were—her eyes popped open wide. “You shouldn’t be in here. Someone might see you.” She held her hands to my chest, stopping me but not pushing me away.

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