Black Bird (Nevermore Duet #1)

CHAPTER 24

BLACK FRIDAY

The flag that was carefully folded into a triangle and taking its rest in a sleek mahogany box on the top of his floating shelf was slowly eating away at the nerves that remained in Malcolm Foley’s overtired body. His broad hands folded over his mouth as he sat, lost in memories he wished he could forget, in his office at the 12th. Small beads of sweat became a little bigger across his dark skin and his brown eyes peered over at what was left of the partner that should have still been alive … would be alive … if he’d been a better cop. Sixteen years, today. Lindsey Trainor’s daughter had graduated high school this past spring. And she couldn’t be there to witness it. Foley had watched the pride as well as the pain flash over the face of her widowed husband when that young girl walked across the stage—as he stood hidden in the back of the graduation ceremony, hoping he wouldn’t be seen.

Black Friday was this nation’s excuse to spend money they didn’t have and forget all their morals to fight to the death over useless purchases in packed stores all over the country. But somehow … the important marks of a date on a calendar always went unnoticed when they were overshadowed by the human lust for money and material things. Foley’s throat bobbed and his concentration on painful memories banked when Agent Foster shouldered her way, uninvited, through his office door.

“You look like you’re gonna be sick,” she observed, leaning with her arms crossed against the doorway. “Not going after the new bike for little Jimmy today?”

“I’m single. No kids. And you’re getting way too comfortable poppin’ in and out of my personal space. Now what is it that I can help you with, Agent Foster?” Foley pinned her with an icy stare and the agent didn’t balk a bit.

“I meant no disrespect, Captain. I just figured that since you were in the office today, I’d let you know about the interesting things we found when we searched your detectives’ apartments. Did you know they lived right next door to one another?”

“Yes, I did. If I remember correctly that was how they met. Seemed fitting to partner them. They work extremely well together. And now that we’re discussing it, your APB was bullshit. You had no reason to do that, nor did you have any reason to invade their personal space. I couldn’t care less what it is you found. Kindly leave my office.”

Foster smirked. “That APB was completely necessary. The suspect is making herself scarce and—”

“Sarah St. James is not a criminal. You and I both know she didn’t kill anybody. I think your little power trip is making that head too big. You Feds march in here with your tech and your swagger, but truthfully … you’ve got about as much as we do when it comes to answers about this case. Whatever this little game is that you’re playing? It’s gonna get somebody killed. And I’m gonna promise you this, Foster … if one of those somebodies is anybody at the 12 th … there won’t be anywhere you can hide that I won’t find you.” Foley’s sweat dripped off his brow.

Foster glanced up to the flag he’d been staring at when she walked in. “I get it, Captain. It’s admirable that you wanna protect your own.” She stepped forward. “Between you and I?” She turned her face back towards him and callously shook her head. “I know St. James isn’t responsible for those murders. That doesn’t mean that she isn’t involved in them. And your detective knows more than he’s letting on. They both do, actually. They seem to be hiding a lot more than I suspected. Did you know that Detective Northwood enjoys sailing?”

Foley lowered his brows. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Hmm … it certainly appears that way. She at least owns a boat. Otherwise, why did we find a set of boat chains in her apartment? They certainly weren’t new. Very worn, actually. And did you know that she had an animal?”

“She doesn’t have that, either.”

“She does. Or … she did . At one point or another. I’m no expert, but I feel pretty confident that I can distinguish claw marks from furniture scuffs. You don’t find that interesting?” She raised one eyebrow.

Everything that he had been suspecting about Kane, seemed preposterous. But what she’d just implied … not Northwood. It was strange that the most farfetched conclusions about those two … would also make the most sense. All the strangest cases that even their heavily-skilled detectives would pass off to them—and they always had an answer. The shifts that Kane would take for years, who only recently changed them—after he met their vic. Northwood’s very predictable time off every month. The fact that they worked so well together … because they were so different from everyone else … and alike in so many ways.

It couldn’t be true.

“I want you to leave. And I don’t want you under the impression that just because you’re working a case in this precinct, that you have any right to walk into my office without knocking on that damn door, and waiting for me to permit you in. I don’t care what rank you are, or what you think you know. This is my precinct. You’re a guest. You and your team will conduct yourselves as such. Our jobs don’t stop being important just because you’ve graced us with your unwelcome presence. Don’t let the door hit you, Agent Foster.”

She looked like she was about to say something else, but his personal cell started ringing. He didn’t reach in his pocket for it—for fear that it might be one of them and she’d know. She smirked again and nodded, turning and closing the door on her way out. Foley dug out his phone and a heavy relief set in when he saw Brent Stratford’s number on the screen. He plucked a tissue from the box on the corner of his desk and wiped his face down with it before answering .

“Mr. Stratford.”

“Morning, Captain. Is this a good time to talk?”

He knew what the kid meant and stood to go shut the blinds to his office window. “Good enough. Any news?”

“They called last night.”

“They?”

“Sarah and Detective Kane. Called from an unknown number and asked me for my help. I’m gonna assist.”

“Assist with what, exactly?”

“Sarah is planning to turn herself in on Monday morning. I talked Kane into bringing her in as an arrest. She wants me to represent her.”

He had to admit that he didn’t see that coming. It was brilliant, but risky. “So, St. James is offering herself up like a lamb, and Kane is allowing that?”

“I doubt he was very fond of the idea before they called me. But once her mind is made up, you can’t hope to change it. That’s just the way she is. She’s confident that whatever they’re charging her with won’t hold up. I’m gonna do my best to make sure she’s right. I’m hoping that it’ll fall apart and whatever, or whoever you’re dealing with up there will have to find another way to solve this case and leave her alone.”

“What about Northwood?”

“They didn’t mention her. Can you be there when we come into the precinct on Monday morning?”

“You’ve got it. Good work, kid. And thanks for your discretion and your help. We’ll figure this out and I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

“Actually … I thought about that, and I decided that if Sarah is willing, I’d like to try to push a lawsuit against the Feds for tainting her reputation under false accusation. Could be helpful to her and to you. I may need your help with that.”

“I’d enjoy every minute of it, Stratford. Let me know if anything changes.”

“Happy Holidays, Captain.”

“Same to you.”

The phone slowly left his face, and he ended the call, staring back up at the flag. Foley grabbed his scarf and jacket off the back of his chair and started putting them on. He dialed another number.

“KC’s Floral Arrangements, how can I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’d like an arrangement for a headstone. Something bright and happy, with a flag added if possible.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Would you like it delivered for a service, or is this a personal order?”

“No service. I can come and pick it up. I’m visiting an old friend.”

“Understood, sir. Give me about an hour. I’ll have it ready for you.”

“Thanks very much.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What can I do, Rhae?” Wren asked, cradling Denver in her lap on the couch while Rhaena braced her hands on her sweaty back and panted as she paced the living room. It wasn’t as bad as last month. At least she could say that much. It didn’t stop her from wishing she was here alone, if for no other reason than being stark naked in this house was the only other option as far as getting relief from what little she had on. It was still incredibly hot in here.

“Nothing to do but wait it out, girl.” Sweat dripped down between her shoulder blades and her black sports bra was doing little to absorb it. It was already drenched. Athan came out of the kitchen with a chilled jug of water and handed it to her. “Thanks.” An ice cream headache almost ensued with how fast she gulped it down.

“Are you not worried he’ll fly off and not come back, Athan?” Wren asked, looking out the window.

“If he was with anybody else, I probably would.” They all turned their attention to the window now. Sarah stood in the middle of the yard, wearing a black wool peacoat, feeding scraps to Poe who fluttered on her extended arm.

“Somebody needs to take a picture of that.” Rhaena tossed her burner phone to Wren, who forcefully agreed, and started snapping everything. “Do you think she realizes how stunning she is?”

Athan crossed his arms and stared after her, a proud smirk on his mouth. “The fact that she doesn’t makes me love her more.” Rhaena lowered the jug from her mouth and smiled.

“She loves clothes and makeup as much as the next girl … but she’s never been vain. To tell you the truth, Sarah reminds me a lot of you, Athan.” Wren continued to snap pictures. “When we first met, it was kinda hard getting her to shed that ‘quiet type’ skin. Some of that never left. She’s a crazy little bitch, but she’s got a huge heart. If either of you knew her before all this … you’d wonder how she managed to shoulder it all.”

“She told me last night that she wanted to give that blood to the kid at the hospital,” Athan said softly, stepping closer to the window. Both Rhaena and Wren turned their heads toward him.

“What?” Rhaena asked, wiping the back of her neck with her palm. “Why?”

“Stratford said something on the phone last night that got her all twisted about it. She thought he was asking her to consider giving it to his mother, but … I gathered what he was really asking at about the same time she did. Last night, she sat by that fireplace stewing over it for a long time. Then she told me she’d made her decision. She said Stratford’s mom wasn’t like other people in that family and was a really good person, but it’s what she would have wanted. She even mentioned that she considered giving it to you, Rhaena. ”

Rhaena stilled and her face crumpled. “Me? What the hell would I do with it?”

Wren kept her eyes on Sarah, who was effortlessly training Poe to fly out and return to her. “She thinks it might … fix your problem.”

Rhaena’s heart fluttered, and an ache bloomed in her chest. “She wants to help me?”

Athan looked at her with a confused expression. “Of course, she does. We all do. But only one of us has something to offer other than a silver ring that might make every difference in the way you wanna live your life, Rhaena.”

She looked to Wren, who nodded her agreement. “I—I couldn’t do that. That’s not her burden to bear. It’s bad enough that any of you are involved. Besides, we don’t even know what would happen.”

“There’s a syringe in the fridge that she drew out last night. She’s leaving it up to you. You can decide for yourself if you wanna try it tomorrow night. The blood bag will go with us on Monday, and she wants Brent to take it to the kid.” Athan reached over to the coat rack by the door and pulled on his black hoodie. “An amount that small shouldn’t hurt you. That’s what she thinks, anyway. She’s studied it enough. I don’t think she’d offer it if she thought it could go south. If you choose not to, I’ve still got my ring. Just think about it.” He slipped a cigarette into his mouth and winked at her before turning and stepping out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.

So many thoughts flooded her mind, and Rhaena’s chest heaved up and down—in part from her surging hot flashes … and from the emotional toll that the notion of being free from this agony was suddenly a possibility. A possibility given by a girl that had already given so much. Rhaena knew that if Sarah’s blood cured that little girl … the whole world would know it. She’d never get the peace in her life that she wanted. But she was willing to give it to others. It was a selfless gesture that not many others would offer, given the chance. She swallowed around a growing lump in her throat.

“Look, I can’t imagine what you must be thinking right now,” Wren started, watching Athan and Sarah through the window again. “But if you’re worrying about her … take my advice and just don’t. Sarah’s proved herself stronger than I ever thought she could be. She’s got him now. However this ends … I think it’ll be happy.” She looked back over, meeting Rhaena’s eyes. “It’ll be happy because it’s what she’s choosing for herself. I underestimate her too much. Don’t consider the thought for any other reason than what you feel is gonna be the best option for you , Rhaena. Sarah can handle herself.”

They looked like two black smudges against the snow. The wind caught Sarah’s hair and when she faced Athan, Rhaena could see that same peace settle over her face. The way that she remembered it did when Sarah first talked to her about him in the hospital that day. They all had come a long way in such a short time. Athan had taken her waist and kissed her, both of them cackling when Poe landed on top of Athan’s hood. They were able to find a little bit of happiness in the chaos unfolding around them, and Rhaena knew she should be doing the same. She’d have to be a fool to turn the offer down. That ordinary human life might be waiting in a little cylinder of plastic in that refrigerator. Her way out.

“Do you ever see yourself that happy, Wren?” Rhaena asked, fanning herself. Wren looked over at her. “Is the simple life worth giving up a part of yourself that maybe was always meant to be a part of yourself? Even if it’s a part that you hate?”

Wren grew quiet, stroking Denver’s coat as he purred against her belly. “I wouldn’t know. Sometimes I think I’m meant to be single. Alone. Maybe, I’d be happier that way. I think I’m too selfish to have a relationship like that. But I don’t know what it’s like to go through what you go through. If that part of yourself limits your ability to have the life you want … the one you deserve … then yeah. I think it’s worth it, boo-thang.”

It was mid-day, and Tony felt uneasy, trying and failing to stop flopping over in his tiny bed and actually sleep. It had been this way ever since Dahlia had him beaten into submission that night, and he’d barely spoken a word, or sang the first note in the weeks that followed. Not to anyone in the coven … not to the patrons at the bar. Restlessness found him more often than not these days, but something about today felt different. Darker. Like that knowing heaviness that settled in one’s stomach when you knew something terrible was coming. His skin crawled with it. Tony sat up and slipped his shoes on, grabbing his flat cap on his way out of his broom closet of a living space.

The bar was already clean and stocked, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to go through it again. He knew at least one keg would have to be replaced before they opened for the night, anyway. Decclan and Devin must not have been able to sleep either. They sat at a booth in one of the alcoves along the wall, playing cards and throwing a hand up in greeting when Tony passed by. Several other coven members smoked cigarettes and talked quietly among themselves as he stepped behind the bar and grabbed a fresh towel from underneath it. It wasn’t unusual for people to be up and about during the day. He just didn’t expect to see quite so many out of bed.

“What’s up, Tony?” a voice called from the dark end of the bar. Tony looked over, finding the new kid sulking over a beer. Tony jerked his head up in response and wiped at an already immaculately clean bar glass. “Can’t sleep, man?” Tony shook his head. “Me neither,” Patrick said, turning his beer up and taking a long swallow … then another … then finishing the rest. He could tell the kid was bothered by something. He knew that look. Tony pulled another bottle from the glass fridge beneath the bar and popped the cap off as he walked over .

“I’ll take that for ya, kid.” It was the most he’d spoken in a while. Patrick passed him the empty bottle, accepting the one he’d placed on the bar. “You doin’ alright?” Everything in him screamed to keep his mouth shut. That it would be better for everyone if he could keep the tight leash on the personality that, until recently, he’d thought harmless. But rumors were flittering through the coven about the young newborn and their leader. Rumors that suggested that what Tony suspected was probably right.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just—just a little lost right now.”

Decclan and Devin made their way down the bar, pulling out stools on either side of Patrick and taking a seat. Tony watched them, waiting to fetch whatever top shelf whiskey they’d ask for. “Lemme get one of those, Tony.” Decclan gestured to Patrick’s ale.

“I’ll take one, too. Been a long time since I drank a beer,” Devin agreed. Tony turned and pulled out two more, opening them and sliding the bottles toward them. “Don’t you drink, Tony? Have one with us. Let’s play.” Devin started shuffling the deck of cards in his hands. No one ever asked him to do much other than sing for them. He considered not participating and leaving them to their leisure, but something in him told him to stay. Tony grabbed himself a beer and leaned over the bar.

“I’ve got time for a game.” He smirked. “Who’s dealin’?”

Decclan swiped the cards. “Me. This fucker thinks he’s slick.”

“You’ve always been the dodgy one, you wanker.” Devin rolled his eyes.

Patrick laughed through his nose as he took another swallow. “I don’t even know how to play, so it really won’t matter on that front.”

“That’s cause you’re too busy gettin’ ‘yer slob wet to learn.” Devin cackled, clapping him on the shoulder. Tony couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“You’ve been here long enough to know how much choice I have in it, Dev,” Patrick countered, fanning the cards in his hand.

“Better you than both of us, mate. I’ve never much cared for company when I’m gettin’ mine. I needed the holiday.” Devin lit a cigarette.

“It’s not always this tense around here, kid,” Decclan offered, laying a card down and grinning when Devin hissed. “She’s just on edge from everything going on. She’ll simmer down. We’ve all been through worse as a whole.”

“Last time we all had to move, Decclan,” Tony reminded him, laying his down over Devin’s brutal loss and collecting his cards. “I’ve grown to like Boston.”

“It won’t come to that. Once she gets what she’s after, everything will settle back into its usual chaos.”

“What is she really after, though?” Patrick asked. The game halted and they all looked at each other. “I know why she wants the blood. I’ve gathered enough to know that turning that Raine girl with my own blood connected her to me. I know she’s dead. I felt whatever that connection was break off. ”

Decclan’s face turned grave. “Did you not tell Dahlia about this?” Tony felt his stomach flip. Patrick took another sip of his beer and shrugged.

“At some point, I decided that it seemed like she didn’t really care so much about that. She’s probably gonna get her hands on that Sarah chick and have that blood, anyway. I’m starting to realize that there’s somebody else that she’s more concerned with.”

“Best get over that, mate. Athan Kane has been the only one of us that’s ever struck a nerve with her. He’s the only bloke that’s ever left the coven and lived to tell about it, too.” Devin laid a card down. Tony tensed as Decclan leaned closer to Patrick.

“Dahlia’s always gonna hold out hope that Athan is her mate. She’ll never let the bastard go. He used to be a friend to me. When he conjured up some flighty idea to leave this place, I thought for sure she’d kill him. I tried talking him out of it. So many times, I tried. But that man would rather her try to put him down than spend another day here. She might not ever kill his ass, but she’ll never let him go. I wouldn’t try to hold onto the idea that she’ll forget about him, Patrick. It won’t ever happen,” Decclan seemed sincere.

“What do you mean, when you say she’s holding out hope that he’s her mate? ” Patrick asked, blindly laying a card down. Tony knew full well that the kid had no idea what he was doing. Knew also, that the route this was going would lead nowhere good.

“Some of us get lucky enough to find our counterparts,” Tony answered, laying his card down over Patrick’s. “It’s a bond that’s otherwise unbreakable between you and the one fate chooses. Links you in a way that no one else ever will. Like the bond you had with that girl you mentioned? That’s a siring bond. It’s like that, but a thousand times stronger.” Decclan and Devin were too busy gathering the cards to see it, but Tony noticed the realization hit the youngster like a hammer. It said enough to him without him having to ask. This kid was Dahlia’s mate.

“Did that Kane guy ever call her by her name?” Patrick asked, his face paling.

Devin snorted as he dragged off his cigarette. “Kane used to talk to her like she was a piece of shit. Still does. I don’t think you understand … he really couldn’t have cared less if she offed him or not. He hates her. Hates her and hates what he is.”

“But why? I don’t think I could ever hate her.” They all paused again, and Patrick looked between them all.

“Not one of us was ever given a choice, kid. And not all of us are that accepting of it. Kane’s biggest issue was that he clung to his humanity for dear life. I don’t need to tell you how well she handles that,” Decclan said, looking to Tony. “We get punished pretty severely for it … or worse.”

Tony nodded slowly. “You’re young … even for a human, Patrick. You’ve got a long ways to go until you start understanding all the mechanics of our immortality. Just do as she says. Take it day by day. Dahlia’s nothing if not brutally honest. And I don’t mean that loosely. Everything will work itself out, kid. ”

“Why don’t you work out how the fuck you just won this game without even looking at the card you just laid down!” Devin barked, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. They all chuckled and Decclan gathered the cards and started shuffling them again.

“One more game.”

Patrick seemed a little more relaxed, and Tony gathered the empty bottles to go get them another round. The conversation seemed lighter, but the feeling in his stomach got worse. He tried his best to ignore it. “Deal me in, lad.” Tony smiled, setting the bottles on the bar.

She was starting to feel her control slip right through her pale grasp. She’d never admit to anyone but herself how she loved Athan Kane. How it filled her with rage whenever she thought of how hard she fought against the very word. She hated him so much but couldn’t overcome how deeply that man had consumed her. The fact that he hated her with every fiber of his being, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, only made her want him more. Seeing him fall all over himself with that little cunt had ignited a fire so destructive inside her, that she had room for little else. Dahlia also could no longer deny that a love of an entirely different sort was threatening to crumble her completely. A love that was real … gentle … passionate. She didn’t want any of that. Didn’t want it, and yet did . Maybe it was the loss of that control. Maybe it was the way her coven was beginning to see her, the farther she let Patrick in. Maybe it was merely because that kind of love was reciprocated by someone she didn’t expect … someone who looked like him but wasn’t.

She’d allowed herself time to talk herself out of it all. She’d have whatever man she wanted. And she would never surrender any power for the affection of any man. There would be more. They were replaceable … but she knew deep down there was one thing in this equation that could never be replaced. Not ever. To keep this position, this power … she’d sacrifice this. There could be no distraction. No obstacle to get in the way of what she was … who she’d always be. Hatred and fear were always more potent than love. Evil was always stronger than the pliant softness of anything good. She’d lived too long and worked too hard to get this far. So, Dahlia fit herself into her thick, long-sleeved black dress, and gloved her hands. She pressed curls at the ends of her long, icy blonde locks. Dolled herself up to look the part. A queen. She was their queen. Sometimes royalty had to pass difficult judgments. Make difficult decisions. Be the leader and enforce that position on the ones beneath her.

The hallways were dark and quiet. Her heels clicked softly on the stone and echoed through the bleak darkness behind her. Every sound made her head split as she took another step toward the large, studded door that led into the club. She opened the door and let it shut loudly behind her, gaining the attention of all the members that were casually biding their time inside. Time stood still, as it usually did when they were at attention, and they all stood as she made her way towards the bar. All the chatter silenced. Every head lowered. No one made eye contact with her. Respect. Obedience. That was the true love in her immortal life. And she would give it up for no one. Tony backed himself away from the bar as she rounded the end and met eyes with Decclan first.

“Mi’lady.” He tightened his mouth in a thin smile. She ignored him and then looked at Patrick, who watched her in the middle. A half-finished card game laid on the bar, along with several beer bottles.

“Having fun, are we?” Dahlia smiled sweetly.

“They’re uh … teaching me how to play.” Patrick smirked, waving a hand over the cards. “Can’t say I’m taking in much, but I’m trying.”

Dahlia circled around Decclan and crept up behind Patrick. Devin stood still as death, and quiet next to him. She slid her gloved hands around Patrick’s abdomen and rested her chin over his shoulder. “Is this your hand?” she asked, looking at the small stack in front of his stool.

“Yeah,” he snickered.

She reached over, sliding one aside. “I’d say you’re taking in more than you realize. Or they’re going easy on you.” She turned her face into the column of his neck and gently kissed it. “Why don’t you throw this one, and come with me? I’ve something for you.”

Something like relief relaxed his body against her and she continued kissing his neck. “I thought you were angry with me,” he breathed, leaning into her.

“Come with me,” she whispered against his skin, trailing her mouth to his earlobe and taking it between her teeth. She knew he had no choice but to obey her. Whether he wanted to or not. Patrick turned around and she took his hand, leading him back through the bar towards the door she’d come out of. She didn’t pretend not to notice Decclan and Devin’s concerned stares … or the kind bartender. A few other heads had turned before they made it back through the door and it slammed shut. Patrick came to stride beside her, and she thumbed over the back of his hand as they walked. “I’ve come to understand something that I thought you should know,” she admitted as they turned into a doorway with a set of stairs leading up.

“I think I might have an idea of what it is.” Patrick gripped her hand tighter as they started up the dark stairwell.

“Oh?” The staircase winded farther up, and she looked over at him.

“We’re mates … right? Is that what happened that day in your office? Why I feel like I can’t breathe without you?”

Dahlia looked away, lifting her skirts with her free hand, and continuing up the stairs. “That’s correct.”

“Is that why you’re different with me? Because you feel it, too?”

“Perhaps.” She stopped them on a step and turned to face him. “What is it that you think I feel for you, Patrick?”

Patrick’s breathing shuddered and he pressed his forehead to hers. “I was hoping that you loved me. The way that I love you. ”

Dahlia felt the war rage within her and her breathing quickened. She leaned in and kissed him, and he returned it with that same eagerness he’d had for weeks. She fought it off and broke away. “I do.” She gripped his hand and started back up the stairs, pulling him along with her. It wasn’t a lie. She truly did love him. Telling him that was the least she could do for her mate—the only one she’d ever have. Fate was putting up a brutal fight.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that. I thought—I thought you wanted that other guy.” Patrick followed her up to the landing at the top and then they started down a long hallway with a single door at the very end.

“You’re a good man, Patrick. One I don’t deserve, and likely never will. I really never expected to fall for you. Mate or not.”

“You deserve everything. You deserve love just as much as anyone else. I’m grateful that we met. I’m glad that I somehow ended up being the one to give it to you.” Another slash of Fate’s deadly blade. They approached the door, and she stopped them, turning him to face her and placing her hands on his face.

“The truth is, Patrick … I don’t have room for love. I only have room for power. I’ve built this empire from nothing, and sadly … there will only ever be one throne. And it belongs to me.” She battled with the ache in her chest as the bitterness of anguish settled over his familiar face.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you should have never come to this club. I’m saying that you should have had the gall enough to stand up for yourself and show that little bitch what she was giving up when she broke you. I’m saying that in my long years, Patrick … I’ve never experienced the pain that I feel, having met you. And it isn’t because I don’t love you. It’s because I do … and in doing so … I have to make this decision.”

Patrick’s eyes welled, and his breath hitched. “Make what decision, Dahlia?”

She blinked back tears and leaned in, kissing his lips. Her hands dropped away from his face, and she stepped back, straightening her spine. “Open the door.”

She could tell that he strained against her command but started moving toward it. She moved further into the darkness of the hallway. Patrick grabbed the handle and pushed it down, cracking the door open and harsh noon sunlight trickled in. He panicked, his breathing growing wild and tears flowing down his face. “Dahlia … Dahlia, please … don’t do this. Don’t do this, I love you. I love you! ” The door opened wider, and he strained his chin over his shoulder to look at her. “Dahlia!”

“I love you, too. I’m sorry, Patrick.” A single tear crept down her cheek and her lip quivered. “Step out and close the door behind you.”

Patrick took two steps out onto the roof of the building and his screams bounced off every wall down the hall. Dahlia winced, catching a few seconds of his charring skin before he slammed the door closed. She started to cry a little harder then, rushing to the door and locking it as he beat against the other side and continued to scream. She turned and leaned her back against the door, sliding down it and crying harder as she slunk to the floor. He continued to beat on it and footsteps sounded from the stairwell ahead of her. Decclan and Devin barreled down the hallway, mouths gaping as Patrick’s cries started to finally die out and the beating stopped. The loss of his bond was an emptiness inside her that she’d never felt before, and she knew he was truly gone. It was a cold stab that pierced her evil soul. Neither one of them said anything. They only stood in shock and stared at her.

The quiet felt like a knife twisting in her chest. Fate had wounded her … but she delivered the killing blow. She gathered herself and slowly stood, peeling off her gloves and raising her face to the men. “Don’t leave him up there. At sundown, gather his ashes. Bring them to me.”

They parted and let her through as she walked forward and straightened herself. She raised her chin and refused to cry another tear as she slipped down the stairwell.

A Black Friday, indeed.