Road To Fire (Broken Crown Trilogy #1) - Maria Luis Page 0,104
in.”
I listen, just as I did a week ago when he ordered me to get in his car. I obey, just as I did when he told me to slip into the confessional at Christ Church Spitalfields. I trust, just as I did after he saved me at The Octagon and brought me into his home like I belong with him.
Like I belong to him.
My steps are silent as I enter the room, and instantly, I note that it’s empty.
Completely.
Utterly.
Empty.
“I don’t under—”
A soft but still deafening click has me whipping around, mid-sentence.
Saxon peers back at me from the other side of the door, and this one—this glass isn’t single-sided. I can see him, clearly, and I can hear every damning word falling from his scarred lips as I stand, shocked to my core, and he levels me with a truth I don’t want to believe.
“Don’t breathe for the enemy, Isla. Don’t breathe for me.”
The enemy?
Heart beating so frantically that I hear nothing beyond the roar in my ears, I rush to the door. “Saxon, let me out.” I pound my fist on the glass, again and again and again. “There’s a misunderstanding. Whatever this is, it’s just a misunderstanding. Please, let me out. Please.”
“I’m a spy for the Crown, and you killed the king.” Green eyes spear me from behind the barrier separating us. “The only misunderstanding is that I didn’t know sooner or you’d be dead already.”
He steps away from the door.
Steps away from me.
“Saxon, let me go.” I smash my fist into the glass. “Saxon!”
And then the door goes opaque, a double-sided mirror no more, and I scream. I claw at the glass. I cry for mercy.
Help doesn’t come.
I breathe, you inhale, and we both go up in flames.
Liar.
Liar.
Liar.
Saxon Priest has turned me to ash and I’ve never been more alone.
34
Saxon
I see only Guy’s face when I enter the library.
Smug.
Victorious.
My boots land like anvils on the eighteenth-century Persian rug. I hear Damien call my name. Barely acknowledge Hamish when he toasts me with a celebratory cigar and a tumbler of whisky. I ignore Paul completely.
“Saxon, tell me. How is the king killer finding her new accommodations?”
It’s the only thing Guy says, and he says it like he’s discussing whether or not he needs to take a piss. But his blue eyes remain trained on me with a certain glint that threatens the last vestiges of my sanity. Any chance of him saying anything more is obliterated two seconds later when I snatch him by the shirt, haul him from the chair, and plow my fist directly into his face.
His head snaps to the side, a grunt pulling from his mouth.
Undeterred, I punch him again.
The left side, this time.
The audible crack of bone breaking shatters the room, followed only by Damien’s urgent shout, but there’s only rage. Rage that swarms my vision. Rage that has me snarling, “You fucking bastard,” as I rear back, prepared to deliver another blow.
Strong hands grapple at my forearm at the final moment, swinging me around.
“Jesus,” Damien grunts, shaking me, “stop.”
I don’t stop. “Let. Me. Go.”
“Are you mad?” When I try again to jerk away, Damien tightens his unyielding grip around my chest. His blue stare, so eerily similar to Guy’s, hardens with irritation. “What the fuck has gotten into you?”
“Isla Quinn.”
At the rasped remark from behind me, I shove Damien off and turn on my heels to stare down my older brother. I want to tear him limb from limb. Carve out his dead, unforgiving heart and drop it at his feet. My chest expands with heavy, ragged breaths, and it’s only a matter of self-restraint that keeps me from starting round two.
“I told you what would happen if you mentioned her again.”
Guy digs his thumb into the cut below his left browbone. When his finger comes away with blood, I feel not an ounce of regret. Given the chance, I’d do it all over again. “And I told you what would happen the next time you hit me.” Without even a grimace, he drags his bloodied thumb across his white shirt, leaving behind a trail of red. “But here we are, both of us still alive. You’re losing your touch.”
Baring my teeth, I lunge forward, only to have a heavy arm band across my stomach and limit my forward mobility. I swing my gaze to the side. “Get your hands off me.”
Damien shakes his dark head, offering a bitter laugh. “So you can kill him? No chance.”