Page 125 of Buried in Blood
And then I walk away with her smile burned into my memory.
The next time I see her, she’ll be walking toward me in white. My Siren.
And for once in my life… I might actually believe I deserve it.
* * *
The fireplace crackles behind us, casting long shadows across the floorboards. The old lake house smells like cedar and old books, just like it did when we were kids. Dante’s pacing, his footsteps echoing against the hardwood like a metronome to his spiraling thoughts.
“I don’t like it,” he says for the third time tonight.
Itake another slow sip of absinthe, watching him from the leather chair I’ve claimed as mine. “You’ve said that.”
“Because I mean it.”
I swirl the liquid in my glass. “Say it clearly this time.”
He stops. Turns. Stares.
“There’s too much we don’t know, Lucien. Damien’s silent. Too silent.”
“Because he’s bleeding. We took Brooke. We dismantled his last auction. He’s scrambling.”
Dante shakes his head. “That’s what wethink. But what if we didn’t hurt him? What if we played into his hands? You ever think about that?”
“I think about everything,” I answer calmly, eyes steady. “That’s why there are three different fail-safes. That’s why Astra and Evelyn are under watch. That’s why I had the entire venue scrubbed and rebuilt off-grid. No records. No leaks.”
“And yet,” he says, voice sharp, “we arestillquestioning his next move.”
I don’t respond.
Because he’s right.
It’s the one thing about my brother I admire— his unpredictability.
Dante runs a hand down his face. “This wedding—your wedding—is a target.”
I set the glass down. Lean forward. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you’re pretending it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters more than anything,” I say, voice low now. “Which is why I’ve made sure he doesn’t know where it is.”
A beat.
“Are you sure?” Dante presses.
“Yes.”
He studies me.
I know that look. It’s the one he gives people before they die. Or before they’re proven right.
I lean back again. “No one’s spoken to Damien. No one outside our circle has the location. Even the guests don’t get the address until tomorrow morning. Private texts. One-time encryption.”
“Brooke?”
“Hasn’t spoken a word since we moved her. Still sleeping in the cell beneath the house.”
