Page 13 of Point of No Return

Wrong answer.

“Try again.”

He winces. “Because I-I didn’t send… the money.”

I nod, seemingly pleased with his answer. But sense hasn’t found him yet. “And it won’t happen again. Will it?”

It’s a rhetorical question, and I frown when he answers it. “No. No, Sir. It will never happen again.”

I stand, buttoning my suit jacket as I pull my coat from the back of my chair and shrug into it. His office is nothing out of the ordinary. Expensive cherrywood, golden paperweights, and company ledgers arranged in neat sequential order.

Nothing of value, nothing that could incriminate the Benenati name. But among all of it, there are pictures of his family. Everywhere. On the bookshelves, on his desk.

I grab one of them, staring down at the three smiling faces. It’s likely his wife and children. Wide-eyed. Innocent. Untainted. They don’t deserve to be punished for the sins of the man in front of me. But I learned the price of loyalty long ago. I’d been the one to pay it when it wasn’t honored. Today, Lincoln will be the one to pay.

“Beautiful family,” I say just as the doors open, and the two men I brought with me step inside. The air grows thick, palpable. An actual sob leaves Lincoln’s mouth as I set the picture down. “They didn’t deserve this.”

“Please. You don’t have to do this.” Both of the guards grab either of Lincoln’s arms, dragging him from his seat. “Plea-”

“Consider your allegiances, Lincoln. Consider where they’ve gotten you this far.”

I hear the metallic zing of a blade being drawn from its sheath, and I open the door to leave when Lincoln’s sobs slowly start to slip out of him.

“Please, Skar. Please- my family. They’ll die without me!”

“It’s long past that,” I say, slipping through the door.

“You really think she’ll ever be safe?!” He yells, and at the mention ofher, I pause. “Your fiancée. She’s Prevyain. They’ll- they’ll never accept her. She will never be safe.”

I give Lincoln a long look, watching as the two guards hover, blades drawn before him. They’re waiting for my signal, and normally, I wouldn’t even think twice about the things a man might say before he dies. But I listen anyway.

“Please, Skar,” he begs. “If I die, you’ll never know the truth about Hydran.”

Hydran.

He doesn’t say anything about a betrayal. Nothing about secrets, about all the things that come to mind when I think of her. God knows I’ve considered all the ways things could go sideways with her. But he mentions none of them.

She’ll never be safe, he said.Hydran.

I study him once more, mulling over the details, watching as he squirms in anticipation of what’s about to come. I don’t know why I hesitate, but something about it rattles me. My brain doesn’t know what to think when it comes to her. She clouds my judgment-and I have no clue why.

But I’m calling his bluff. I nod toward the guards, and despite his screams, I close the door to the office and walk the path out of the building. I only spend a little of my time at Omenin. Mainly, I come when the board calls a meeting or matters require my attention like today. The car is still idling outside, and I climb in the back seat.

The driver veers back onto the main road, following the familiar route home. We’re more than an hour from Viserion, and I’ll be back late enough that everyone will probably be asleep. It isn’t uncommon to miss dinner, but that doesn’t explain why I can’t shake the dread in my gut.

I’ve spent the past few weeks so focused on figuring out what angle Charlotte is playing that I haven’t considered the consequences our union might mean for her.

I stop the thought as it happens, hardening that feeling- remorse, worry, guilt, orwhatever the hell it is- until I feel nothing at all. I won’t let our marriage destroy everything I’ve built.

And I certainly won’t let it start affecting things now.

Chapter Eight

Charlotte

I’m not tormented by the things that have happened to me, but there are still nights when the nightmares chase sleep away. In the past few weeks, it hasn’t been unusual to wake up in a cold sweat, terrified to see the unfamiliar surroundings of my new room.

The curtains create odd, hunched-over shadows on the floor, and the room is big enough that I can’t see much past the edge of my bed. More often than not, I find myself in the bathroom, reliving my last meal into the toilet.

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