Page 88 of Seal My Fate

I pause.

“What?” Wren knows me and she knows when I have something on my mind. I don’t want to ruin the joyful vibes, but there’s something still weighing on me.

I go to the hallway and retrieve one of the security video discs that Saint and I rescued from the fire. It’s Wren’s video, with their names scribbled on the front in black Sharpie.

I place it on the table between us.

“You said you needed to see what happened to you,” I say slowly. I look at her, torn. “I thought about destroying it, but… It should be your choice, what you do. If you want to watch it, or…”

I trail off anxiously.

Wren takes a deep breath, and picks up the case, turning it over in her hands. “I thought I needed to watch it,” she says, looking thoughtful. “Those gaps in my memory have been driving me crazy, and I thought maybe, if I filled them in, I could finally be free. But what happened last night, with Hugh… That’s the end of the story.I ended it,” she adds fiercely. “I don’t need to know what happened in that cell, because I made sure that it’ll never happen again. To anyone.”

I breathe in relief.

She opens a couple of drawers, until she finds a lighter. It’s expensive, silver, engraved with the insignia from one of Saint’s fancy clubs, and it feels fittingly ceremonial when Wren opens the case and pulls out the security disc, burned onto a CD. She snaps the lighter, and a flame rises. Holding it to the edge of the disc, we watch as the fire melts the plastic, until it’s just a warped, twisted mess. Wren drops it in the sink, smoldering.

“There,” she says with a smile. “Good riddance.”

“Nothing but freshly baked scones and hunky fishermen ahead.”

Wren chooses notto come with us to the big meeting at Ashford Pharma, and I don’t blame her. She’s focused on her future now; Saint and I can take care of the past. As we approach the towering building, I squeeze his hand, suddenly nervous.

“These are a lot of powerful people we’re about to tell to go to hell,” I murmur.

He gives me a reassuring look. “Nobody’s going to touch you again. They’ll have to fire a hundred bullets to get past me.”

“You’re not invincible,” I point out, even as I feel a glow over his stalwart protection. Wren’s right: The man threw himself in front of gunfire to protect me. That kind of love is about as committed as it gets.

“But I feel like I am when you’re next to me,” Saint says with a dashing grin.

I laugh, feeling better as we enter the vast marble lobby. The place is still buzzing. To every other employee, it’s just another ordinary workday. We’re the only ones who know that Ashford Pharma is about to burn, just like the manor house last night.

As we make our way to the elevator, and up to the executive floor, I feel a twinge of guilt over all the people we’re about to make unemployed. “They don’t know what’s about to happen to their jobs,” I murmur, looking out across the office floor. “Or the company. They’re innocent in all of this.”

“And I’ll make sure they get help finding new positions,” Saint promises me. “Working for companies that are actually making a difference, instead of feeding them lies.”

We stride down the hallway, towards the conference room. This part of the office has been cleared out of people, I notice, spotting the empty desks and gathering spaces. Clearly, nobody wants this meeting to be overheard. As we approach, I can see everyone is already assembled inside: Saint’s parents, Lionel Ambrose, and Cyrus Lancaster.

We told them to come alone, no lawyers or staff, and they complied. They don’t need any witnesses for what we’re about to discuss.

“Ready?” Saint asks me, arching an eyebrow.

I nod, determined. “Ready.”

We open the doors, and walk in. Every head turns to look at us, and I feel the rage in their glares like a sharp slap. But it’s not just anger on their privileged, aristocratic faces.

It’s fear, too.

Good.

Saint leads me to the head of the table, and stays standing, looking out over the room. His parents are pale faced, but the others bluster and rage.

“Whatever this is about, I had nothing to do with it,” Cyrus Lancaster announces. “And I’ll sue you to hell if you say one word otherwise.”

“My solicitors are already applying for an injunction,” Lionel agrees, “If you dare try and connect us with any… irregularities that may have been going on here at Ashford.”

“Fucking liars,” Saint’s father grumbles furiously. “You were the one who told me to keep it quiet, just for another few months.”

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