Page 59 of Relentless Knight

Gently, I ease my arms beneath Quinn’s slight weight and hoist her up off the couch. Her head lolls slightly, and she stirs before her cheek comes to rest on my shoulder. Then she seems to settle back into her dreamless sleep.

Thank God for small miracles, she doesn’t seem to be having any nightmares—despite recent events. And I hope that will stay true when I take her to bed. But Killian’s right. We can’t leave her to sleep in that chair. She’ll be all sorts of bent out of shape—literally.

Climbing the stairs toward her wing of the house, I wonder if it’s wise to leave Killian alone. He looks like a man unhinged. But I think he’s holding it together so he can be ready to help Natasha as soon as he knows what she needs. So I’m trusting my foster brother while I take care of the woman I love.

I ease the door open to her room and slip inside to lay her gently across the sheets. Heading to her wardrobe, I pull out a throw blanket and lay it across her. Then I take a moment to look at her, to really take in her beautiful face.

When she’s soundly asleep like this, she looks so peaceful. So innocent and young. Her cute button nose and smattering of freckles will always give her a more youthful appearance, and while she’s mentioned more than once that she hates being mistaken for someone under twenty-one, it’s just another thing I love about her.

And as I watch her sleep, I feel myself falling in love with her all the more.

I don’t know how Killian’s doing it. I hurt for him as he sits in a prolonged state of agony, thinking about what’s happening to Natasha. I can’t imagine how I would feel if Quinn went missing for so many hours and Iknewshe was behind enemy lines. As terrible as it was to have her dropped off at the front gates that night—battered and bruised and half-terrified out of her mind—I could almost consider it a small blessing that we didn’t know what had happened to her until she’d been returned.

And I know how selfish it is to be grateful that she’s safe in her bed. But I feel it all the same. Bending over her, I smooth her mess of curls back from her face, and I press a soft kiss to her forehead.

Then I creep carefully back out of her room and close the door.

I can hear Killian’s voice before I make it down the stairs, and I pick up my pace as I realize he’s on the phone. His tone is strained, his voice raised, and as I enter the living room, I find him pacing in aggravation.

“I told you we should have gone for her,” he snarls. “We should have been therehours ago.”

He pauses for a response, and I assume it must be Tatiana, judging by his words. She’s the only one he’s spoken to since Natasha left.

“Fine. Fine. Yes, I’ll see you soon.” Killian wrenches the phone from his ear and jabs the button to end his call.

Standing in the doorway to the living room, I watch, waiting for him to tell me what’s going on.

“Tatiana’s on her way,” he growls, casting a dark look in my direction as he continues to pace.

I nod. I’d gathered as much, considering he didn’t immediately order me to get the car.

“Lucian just called her. Arrogant bastard. He says he caught Natasha trying to kill him and now he’s holding her prisoner.”

Icy slivers trickle into my veins, turning my blood to viscous sludge. I clench my fists as that incessant thought runs through my brain once again.

I should have insisted I do this job.

I never should have conceded. But my feelings for Quinn got in the way. Because I knew how much she would hate it if I went. So I let myself be talked out of it. I should have stood my ground. Then I would be the one in Lucian’s hands. Not Natasha. That would have been far less painful than it is to sit here, feeling helpless.

“What does he want?” I ask. If he’s holding her prisoner—and calling Tatiana—he must have demands.

Killian turns to me with a tortured look, and for the first time, I see a hint of true madness behind his eyes. “It sounds like he was more than delighted to uncover the true identity of the Sokolovs’ assassin. He thinks that’s enough to get Tatiana to cooperate.” Clenching his teeth, Killian takes a moment to collect himself before finishing. “He fully intends to reveal Natasha’s identity to all of New York unless Tatiana gives up her throne by the end of the day.”

A lead weight settles in my stomach as I realize how terribly our plan fell apart. And the repercussions are so far beyond my imagination, I’m terrified to try wrapping my head around them.

The infamous Sokolov assassin has countless enemies in New York. The number of dangerous families who have promised their weight in gold to anyone who can find the assassin are nearing a hundred. Not to mention all the people who would hunt her down themselves for the pure satisfaction of exacting vengeance for a loved one.

If Lucian reveals Natasha’s identity, he won’t have to touch a hair on her head. He can just sit back and watch as all the families she’s ruined come out of the woodwork for their pound of flesh.

My stomach turns at the thought of what could happen to Natasha if Tatiana doesn’t hand Manhattan over to Lucian. And I’m not sure if things will end much better if she does.

“What are we going to do?” I ask. He just has to say the word, and I’ll do it. I might not be a brilliant strategist or a master manipulator like Tatiana and Killian, but I know how to fight for the people I love, and I’ll crush Lucian for what he’s done.

Killian looks on the brink of throwing up, and I get the sinking feeling that, for once, he doesn’t have an answer. “We’re going to get her back,” he states finally, his tone brittle enough to shatter. “Even if I have to kill every last Agosti man with my bare hands, Iwillget her back.”

I nod as I struggle under the immense guilt threatening to crush me.

How many people will die because of this?

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