Domnall was right. Torrie had descended into a dark, dark place. And she wasn’t sure if her cousin had hope of ever being whole again.
She scooted backward off the bed, her look staying on Torrie. Her cousin didn’t so much as blink, much less look away from the fire as Sloane backed to the door.
Escaping out into the coolness of the corridor, Sloane paused to lean against the doorframe and drag a deep breath into her lungs.
What had become of her cousin? She had seen the signs before she had left months ago—but this was beyond anything Sloane could have imagined.
Torrie was drowning in so much hate that she couldn’t move forward with life.
With her chest aching for the pain her cousin was in, one thing became clear.
She didn’t want to become like Torrie.
Eaten to the bone with hatred.
Sloane had thought she needed justice. That she needed it to move forward.
But maybe it wasn’t the key to moving forward.
Maybe she just needed to move forward.
{ Chapter 10 }
“Milly, did you discover if they will have a coach for us by early afternoon?”
The door clicked closed. Sloane didn’t bother turning around to her maid as she finished folding her spare chemise and set it onto the bed next to her valise. She needed to finish packing if they were to leave the coaching inn today.
“Where in the bloody devil do you think you’re going to next?”
Double—no triple hell.
He found her.
Sloane froze, her stare on the wall in front of her. Every nerve on her body spiked, prickling her skin from her scalp to her toes.
The air crackled around her, crackled like it did every time Reiner was within five feet of her.
But this was more. This was dangerous. The air not only crackled, it sparked—near to singeing her with the rage that accompanied the man behind her.
Hiding her motion, she picked up her chemise and slid it slowly into the valise in front of her on the bed. Her fingers dipped downward in the bag, searching. She found it. Blade. Handle.
Gripping her dagger tight in her hand, she whipped around, the blade pointed at Reiner before he could move across the room to her.
His chest lifted in a seething heave and he stepped toward her, directly at the blade aimed at his heart. “You remembered. Everything. And then you betrayed me.” His words thundered into the room.
“What?” She jumped a step sideways.
He advanced, his words a growl. “You remembered what you were doing at Wolfbridge and you didn’t come to me. Didn’t tell me. You swore you would.”
“I swore nothing.” Her breath sped and she turned slightly to back up. Her shoulder blades hit the wall. She moved to her left, circling him with the blade still high.
He kept stalking her, his fury palpitating. Kept rounding about her, advancing on her until the tip of the blade was poking into his gut just below his ribcage.
His feet stopped, the deep lines on his face hardening into cold countenance until he was almost unrecognizable. He looked down at the blade, then dragged his vicious gaze up to her face. “You don’t want to do that, Sloane.” The words seethed through clenched teeth.
She twisted the dagger against his gut, the sharp tip tearing a hole in his waistcoat. “No? Do I have a choice?”
A blur in front of her eyes, he swung his arm through the air, his fingers gripping onto her wrist and twisting her blade-holding right hand away from his belly. Before she could blink, he snatched her other wrist and wrenched both of her arms above her head and shoved her backward.