Page 46 of Harbinger

“You don’t have a choice, Princess.”

“I could literally throw myself out of this car right now.”

“That would certainly be achoice,I guess,” I grumble, rolling my eyes. “We’ll talk about the beard later.”

I just wish we were back at the compound already.

FOURTEEN

SYDNEY

Ronan isfun to mess with.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself is happening. We’re just messing with each other. Back there? In that dress? Just something to piss him off.

And I love it.

I’m not happy about any of this, but there’s a certain level of acceptance that comes with understanding your debt to the world that comes after the grief over the normal life you’ve so desperately yearned for. A deep melancholy that settles on your soul like the weight of the world pushing down on you.

I’ve accepted that this is my responsibility. My path.

I can either accept it, make peace with it, and live my life as I always have along the way, or I can be miserable.

I can be weak and pliable, or I can be powerful and stand my ground. They’ll just have to live with it.

Seeing myself in those clothes made me realize that my life is never ever going to be the same. Until the very day I die, things are going to be different. Whether that be I live the rest of my days as a failure, I die young, or I succeed, and I’m finally free of the weight of the past, everything will be different. And that’s okay.

I’m tired of running. I’m tired of panicking.

The rest of the ride is silent as Ronan hums softly. I see his jaw working, and it sends a little bit of joy through me that I can get under his skin so easily.

When we pull into the complex, a man immediately stands from his place on the couch, scowling.

Ronan sighs. “That’s Paul. He’s a minister for the Fallen Angels,” he informs me.

“Why can’t we just hit up a courthouse somewhere?” I ask, unbuckling.

“Because Jerry doesn’t always do things the legal way,” is all he replies before getting out and unloading the trunk of his car. I watch him, my hand on my hip.

“You guys took your sweet time,” Jerry says from the second floor as she exits her room, skipping down the steps with a cigarette between her teeth. I don’t miss the look Ronan shoots her. “Take her shit upstairs and come back down, okay?”

Jerry pats Ronan’s back before turning to me, a wicked grin on her face.

“Sydney, this is Paul. Paul, this is Sydney.”

Paul looks me over. He’s handsome. Maybe in his early thirties, he digs one hand into his black slacks as he runs a palm through his sandy blond hair.

“You guys really are sisters,” he says as he looks between us.

Jerry chuckles, watching Maverick trot over to sit next to her, scratching him between the ears.

“This isn’t going to take long. I have dinner with someone, anyways,” Paul says, his voice laced with annoyance.

“That’s fine with me,” I reply, shrugging.

Ronan exits his room, making his way back downstairs. He changed out of his more formal outfit and into a pair of form-fitting jeans and a blue Henley. He looks more handsome than I’ll give him credit for.

“If you guys can come over to the island, please,” Sydney says, stepping behind it with a paper in her hands.

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