Page 60 of Redemption

“He didn’t suffer. No point. Killing him wasn’t personal. Not for me.” I kiss the top of her head. “As for Jade, I’d say indignant and a bit aggressive. Mostly about the blood on her dress.” I consider her reaction for a beat. The dress wasn’t the weirdest part. “She also wanted me to tell her if he begged.”

She points at Jay. “The way she discussed fear and suffering with me the other day was not normal.” She presses her finger into her chest. “For me to say her opinions on those topics aren’t normal? Well, you realize she’s screwed up.”

Carys might love me, but her sense of right and wrong is on a scale others would recognize even if they don’t agree with the breadth of her gray areas.Enjoyingthe suffering of others? On a different scale entirely.

I gaze between Jay and Carys. “We need to understand who we’re really dealing with as soon as we can.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Carys

We’reinthedressingrooms of a high-end women’s clothing store in Belfast, and I’ve already tried on half a dozen outfits. While I might not trust Jade, she has impeccable taste in clothes. I’ve never been here before, but it’s becoming a favorite.

When I emerge from the dressing room, I rotate in front of the bank of mirrors. The deep-purple dress fits me like a glove, and the color makes my skin radiant.

Jay flips through a magazine on a bench meant for beleaguered spouses or supportive friends. Finn didn’t trust my safety to Kim alone when we’d be more than an hour away. Jay doesn’t glance up from his reading material but still says, “You look great.”

“That’s a winner.” Kim brandishes another dress from the racks. “If I was you, I reckon I’d get it.”

“I want to see,” Jade calls from her own change cubicle. “Give me a second.”

I eye the outfit she’s holding and tease a finger along the neckline. The black lace will plunge between my breasts, a deep V, exposing my scar. I raise an eyebrow in question, and she circles where the mark lays. “I can’t wait to see her face when she sees this.” Her midnight eyes are full of a sly meaning. The comment is loud enough for Jade to hear, but since she can’t see us, she won’t understand Kim’s true intent.

Jade pops out of the dressing room. “That’s gorg.” She orbits around me, her own dress floating around her legs with a swish. “You have to get that.”

“That’s pretty.” The fabric of her dress slithers between my fingers. “Nice and light.”

“Good for summer.” She rotates to catch the angles in the mirror like I did.

Another stab of familiarity strikes me. Did I see her at the pub when I was stabbed? Is that why some of her movements and expressions hit me so hard? Last night when Finn and I went back to bed, I tried to remember faces from the crowd. But other than his stricken expression above me, and Lorcan’s steady presence, everyone else is a blur, a vague remembrance. It’s not a happy memory, one I cultivated, or clung onto. Instead, I worked to suppress the helplessness of that evening. All Finn’s strength and cunning were nothing compared to a tiny knife inserted in the right place. Death a hair’s breadth away.

I snatch the dress out of Kim’s hand. Perhaps she’s right. The scar has grown faint over time, and if Jade notices, it’ll be because she knows to look. When I’ve zipped up the back of the dress, I examine myself in the mirror. The scar is framed perfectly by the neckline. One of many reasons why I never wore dresses like this. I tug on the waist and smooth it down. With a deep breath, I open the door.

Jay throws his magazine to the side, ready for his body language study. Kim lounges on the seat beside him, but Jade is back in her room.

“That’s a dress stitched to lie on a man’s floor,” Kim exclaims for Jade’s ears. The comment is so obviously a bait, I almost laugh.

“Do you think?” I turn in the mirror.

Jade’s door flies open, and she’s wearing her own clothes, three dresses draped over her arm. She strides over to me, peering at the silhouette and then homing in on the neckline.

“That plunge doesn’t really feel like you.” She meets my gaze. “It’s very daring. Are you comfortable with it?”

“I like it, actually.” I twist toward the mirror, offering her another chance to peek at my scar while I peer at her.

“You’ve got a mark.” She gestures to her own chest. “Just there. What’s that from?”

My cheeks warm, unable to help the reaction. Talking about the night I lost my baby with Finn and almost died is one of my least favorite topics. Creating the discussion flusters me. “An old injury.”

“What happened?” Jade’s eyes are wide while she stares at me. “An accident?”

“A knife,” I admit. “Meant for someone else.”

“May I?” Her index finger is poised above my chest. She’s transfixed by the scar, unable to tear her gaze away.

While I don’t want her touching me, I’m interested to see where her behavior leads. Yet another side to examine, dissect. “It’s a scar.” I force myself to stay in the moment with Jade and not to look at Jay and Kim. “You can touch the mark. The skin’s a bit rough.”

Her fingertip brushes the raised flesh, and she shudders. With her eyes closed, she says, “He must have been terrified.”

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