Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
He kisses my cheek softly, just a brush of bloody lips.
“You need to let me fix your wound,” he whispers. “Are you gonna let me if I release you, or are you gonna try to kill me again?”
The warmth of his chest against mine makes it worse, the guilt settling in my bones.
I put a bullet in him. I—I
He looks down at his hand, at the mess between us. “If you wanted to dabble in some bloodplay, Venom.” The corner of his lip twitches into a smirk. “You could have just asked.”
I don’t laugh.
When he starts to lift his weight off me, I clamp my hand around the back of his neck and hold him there.
He goes still, his breath warm against my lips.
“Ash,” I whisper, my ribs compressing. “I can’t.”
“Ivy?” Luce whispers from behind me and I freeze.
Luce’s hazel eyes catch mine over Asher’s shoulder.
Her face crumples, and she takes one step toward me before stopping with both hands curled against her stomach.
“I’m here,” she says.
Asher turns his head enough to see her, and the movement brings his mouth against my temple.
My skin crawls.
His hands have held me through nightmares. They’ve cleaned blood from my body and tucked blankets around my feet. Those same hands kept Emeric’s name buried while I slept beside him.
I loosen my fingers from Asher’s neck.
“Ash, move.”
His gaze returns to mine.
“You’re bleeding.”
“So are you.”
“Ivy—”
“Get off me.”
His jaw locks. For one second, I see Le Parrain staring down at me. The man who can order executions between snowboard runs and smile at the camera for all his fans.
Then his grip opens.
Asher lifts himself from my body and keeps one hand over the wound in my side until Luce drops beside me. Blood coats his palm, bright against the lines of his skin.
I push onto my elbows.
The room sways, forcing me to close my eyes.
He is Le Parrain.
Emeric is my father.
Asher knew.
Each fact carries a hundred memories behind it. Every time he kissed me instead of answering a question. His face above mine in bed, blue eyes holding steady while I handed him pieces of myself he already understood better than I did.
A laugh scratches at my throat, then dies there.
It isn’t a matter of if I love him. My body proved that before my mind caught up. It recognized him in every room, searched for him through every crowd, and ran toward him with the same instinct that reaches for a blade.
It’s forgiveness.
Luce slips an arm behind my back and helps me sit. “I’m going to fix you up. You can hate me later.”
Asher stays on his knees beside us.
His split lip starts bleeding again. I did that. The cut across his chest is mine too. Blood slips from his palm and drops to the floor between us.
I stare at him until his face blurs.
“Venom.”
I pull my legs beneath me and lean into Luce.
He reaches for my cheek.
I turn my head.
His hand stops inches from my skin, fingers curling toward his palm.
Around us, everyone has gone silent. I don’t even know who’s all here. Camille exists somewhere, but I don’t have the room left in my skull to care.
“I want to go home.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
IVY
Veilarath stretches on forever, and I spend every minute of the drive with my forehead pressed to freezing glass.
Nobody talks as Khloe drives. Everyone breaths carefully, like I'm a fragile ticking time bomb.
Asher’s thigh brushes mine.
I refuse to look at him.
Every lesson Emeric drilled into me is connecting more and more, and I grip my knees as his design becomes clear.
I fucking hate that some part of me always knew. The maps never matched, and Désamour smelled of pine and cold stone instead of the French countryside.
“Ivy.” Asher hasn’t let anyone stitch him up yet. Whatever’s lodged in his side is still in there, keeping his blood where it belongs. “Baby, say something.”
My jaw locks.
“Anything. Scream at me. Call me a piece of shit. Put another bullet in me—I don’t give a fuck. Just—“
“You’re le parrain of the French Mob.” I blink. “You’re Le Boucher Sans Loi, a ruthless killer who chops people into pieces.”
Silence fills the car.
“Not people. Fucking enemies, Ivy. And Le Boucher was a means to an end so that we can regain control of an organization that completely lost its way.”
My eyes snap to him. “And who created him? Le Boucher?”
Asher stares right through me. “You did. You started it, my grandfather trained it, and I fucking finished it.”
I’ve got nothing else to give him but silence.
“I created a monster.” My throat swells.
“That monster is your fucking pet, Ivy, and you fucking know it.” He leans forward, wincing when the movement pulls at his wound. “I knew what would happen if I told you.”
“I don’t care what you knew.” I turn back to the window. “I care that you didn’t tell me.”