Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
What was going to happen now?
Nicolette had tried to take me, to drag me from the Isle, and I’d fought back but if I never would’ve showed up at that store this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.
Would he be angry?
Would he punish me?
I’d failed to protect his trust. A chill ran through me, not from the cold, but from the uncertainty of what awaited me once the car started moving. Alexander was always one step ahead. He knew how to control every situation, every outcome. I knew he wouldn’t have liked this kind of unforeseen variable. And now… now I felt as unsteady as that boat would have in this storm, waiting for him to decide my fate.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I sat in the backseat with Lolita, the rain pounding against the car windows in a relentless rhythm. She was soaked through, her clothes clinging to her skin, her hair plastered to her face, trembling in the aftermath of what had just happened. Without a word, I took the towel the driver had handed me and began drying her off. The silence between us was thick.
I didn’t speak, and neither did she, but I didn’t need her to explain. I already knew everything. The moment she left the estate, the Isle had eyes on her. I wasn’t angry at her.
She wasn’t leaving me.
She didn’t want to go.
That much was obvious. She was scared and anxious—but still mine.
As I gently wiped the water from her face and from her arms, I thought of how close she could have come to making a mistake she could never undo. I knew what drove her wasn’t rebellion. It was fear. Uncertainty. She didn’t fully realize how deeply rooted she was in this life—our life.
Each time the towel moved over her skin; I felt my own frustration simmer. Not at her. Never at her. But at the idea of losing what I had worked so damn hard to mold, to shape, to make perfect. Lolita wasn’t like the others. She hadn’t been brought up here, but it didn’t matter. She was adjusting, close to thriving. The thought of her being dragged away by a traitor like Nicolette made my jaw clench.
My fingers tightened around the towel for a second, and I had to force myself to relax. Lolita was safe now. With me. That’s all that mattered. I glanced at her, at the way she avoided my gaze, her bottom lip trembling slightly. She thought I’d be furious. That wasn’t what she needed right now. She didn’t run because she wanted to leave me. She ran because she thought she had to. Because part of her still feared what and who I was.
That would need to be fixed.
Gently, I brought the towel up to her hair, dabbing it dry. She let out a shaky breath but didn’t pull away. She never did anymore. “You shouldn’t have done that, deliciae,” I murmured, my voice calm, almost soothing as I continued to dry her off. "But we’ll deal with it. Together."
She looked up at me then, her pretty brown eyes wide, searching.
For what, I wasn’t sure—reassurance, forgiveness, perhaps both.
“I’m not mad,” I added, leaning closer, brushing her hair back from her face. “But you will never leave my side or the estate again alone, do you understand?”
I felt her tense under my touch until slowly, she nodded. I had been in the middle of reviewing the final details for the upcoming Rite when the first alert came through. At first, I brushed it off. It wasn’t unusual for the Isle to send constant updates about movement, surveillance, or minor incidents. When the second, third, and fourth messages followed in rapid succession, I froze. My gut twisted as I saw Lolita’s name flash on the screen. It wasn’t a feeling I had ever experienced before. Fucking panic that quickly turned to rage.
Bishop and Jamison were at my side in an instant, their reactions as sharp as mine.
They got a rundown of what was happening and without me having to say a word, they were on damage control along with the rest of my Magistri moving swiftly to secure the situation. They all knew what to do, but I was the one who needed to be there. I was the one who had to fix this.
Now, sitting in the back of the car, my heart still racing from getting her off that fucking cliffside, I lifted Lolita’s hand to examine the cut. The jagged slice across her palm made my blood boil. She’d been hurt. Because of another man. It took actual effort not to show her the rage simmering just below the surface. William was already broken, and Nicolette would pay for this betrayal with her life—but not before I had my own say. My thumb brushed over her wound gently, and I wrapped the towel around it with careful precision, keeping my movements deliberate, and controlled.