Page 19 of Point of No Return

“I also looked into that name you asked me about: Hydran. I haven’t found anything yet. But I’m working on it.”

I nod, knowing before I asked him a little while back that he wouldn’t. Whatever Lincoln was on about isn’t going to be something I can find information on easily.

“How’s Charlotte?” Crew clears his throat, and I shake my head, knowing he can’t see.

He isn’t just asking as my head of security. He’s asking as my friend. If it were from anyone else, I’d call them on it… But Crew and I have been through more than most.

“Stitches. Right shoulder. The knife sliced right through her arm when he ran into her.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

My first reaction is to snap at him, but I know it’s just because I’m angry as hell when it comes to her. He knows it too- but he doesn’t point it out.

“I have no idea how she is, Crew. I’ve hardly said ten words to her. Like hell she’s going to trust me.”

He’s quiet for a minute, as if debating whether or not to say his next words: “She’s your fiancée, Skar. Figure it out.”

Crew ends the call, and I’m half-tempted to pitch the phone across the room. But I settle for shooting off a quick text into work, telling them I won’t be in today. Instead, I do the only thing in thirty years that’s ever really calmed me down.

And it usually ends with at least a couple of bloody knuckles.

Chapter Eleven

Charlotte

“Dammit,” my mother grimaces as her eyes fall on the wound again. “That will never heal in time for the wedding.” I let the last few seconds of quiet melt away slowly before swinging my legs over the edge of my bed. I wince when my shoulder howls at the movement. “Do they suspect anything?”

I hiss through my teeth as I stand, reaching for a fresh cloth from my bedside table. Dragging the clean cloth over my shoulder, I smear blood away from the broken stitch.

It must’ve torn in my sleep last night.

“No,” I choke, but with my head still turned away from her, I hope she doesn’t see the flash of pain that crosses my face.

“How did you know he’d be there?” Eva crosses the room toward me, pulling my hair to the opposite side of my neck and taking the cloth out of my hand.

“I didn’t,” I wince as she dabs at the wound. My mother has never been gentle- and I certainly don’t expect any different from her now.

Thirteen stitches or not.

She doesn’t say anything, but her fingers press deeper into the joint of my shoulder. A demand for me to elaborate. I refuse to give her the reaction she wants even as pain shoots down my right side.

“What happened?” she presses.

While I’m still not exactly sure how the man got in, it probably had something to do with the fact that he was dressed as a waiter. I almost didn’t spot him, lurking and watching Skar from the shadows.

“I want to know how a Prevyain male gets their tattoos removed,” I say suddenly. “And why he was after the Benenatis.”

She releases me, perching down on the corner of my bed and running a hand over the wrinkled duvet instead. Her brown eyes look over my sweaty skin, a slight smile on her face. I likely look as haphazard as I feel, but that isn’t why she’s still here.

“Are you accusing me of something, Lottie?”

I shake my head, calculating my words. “We both know you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of sending me here if you were planning on having someone else finish the job.”

With a careful hand, she reaches up and grabs my chin, dark nails scraping my skin and forcing me to look at her. “Unless I didn’t think you’d go through with it.”

There’s a challenge in her eyes, practically daring me to call her on the fact that I’d been wrong. She was testing me. Seeing if I had what it takes.

The man at the party last night hadn’t been after Skar or Aleks or Tyson like I thought. I hadn’t been protecting them when I saw the gleam of a blade being drawn and stepped into the line of fire. Landing a fatal blow cost me my shoulder, but at least it had been discreet. He likely didn’t die until hours later.

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