Page 85 of The Reaper's Vow
Damien’s reflection nods grimly. “We arrive separately. You’ll go in first with Gabriel—my father insisted on that detail. You’ll be wearing the same mask as before.”
“I still can’t believe you actually agreed to this.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, a mix of disbelief and adrenaline. “I said I’d do it, but I didn’t think you’dletme.”
His jaw tightens, the muscle in his cheek working. “It’s not what I want, but it’s what has to happen to end Lockhart’s hunt.”
I blink at him in the mirror. “You’re really letting me walk in there alone?”
“This is your plan, Karina,” he responds, voice low, almost pained. “And I swore I’d treat you as my equal. If I drag you out now, if I take away your choice, then I’m no better than my father.”
I stare at him, searching for some crack in his calm. “You’re not going to change your mind when we get there?”
He exhales through his nose. “No. Your plan, as much as it infuriates me, is the right one. Lockhart needs to think you’ve defied me or are looking for a better option—if he thinks you’reunprotected—he’ll make a mistake. And when he does, I’ll be there to rip out his fucking throat.”
I bite my lip, but the fire in my chest is real now. “You’re trusting me to do this.”
“I’m trusting you,” he confirms, meeting my eyes in the glass. The wolf flickers behind his gaze. “I hate it, but you asked me to let you fight, and I’m doing it.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, kitten. We still have to survive this. Thank me after.” He takes a deep breath. “You’ll need your mask.”
Damien steps away from me and over to his dresser in the far corner of the room. He tugs open a drawer and pulls something out. It’s not until he’s closer that I realize it’s the mask I wore the night we met.
“I thought I lost this when I shifted that night and ran.”
“I found it,” he shrugs.
“And you kept it?” I fire back.
“At the time, I was trying to hunt you down, kitten. It had your scent on it.”
I take the mask from his hands. How could something so simple as wearing this mask brought me to the place I am now? It’s ironic, really. A night out to nurse the wounds from a bad breakup brought me into this world. It brought me a mate, and a backstory I never knew existed, no thanks to my parents. There’s so much about my life I still don’t understand, but maybe after all of this is said and done, Anselm or Hudson will be willing to help fill in those blanks that my parents no longer can.
“Gabriel will escort you to the VIP section,” Damien continues. “You'll be visible but protected. Lockhart won't be able to reach you without going through pack security.”
“And then?”
“Then we wait. Let him see you, let him think he has a chance. When he makes his move—and he will—we'll be ready.”
“What if he doesn't take the bait?”
“Then we improvise.”
“That's not very reassuring.”
“Nothing about this is reassuring, kitten.” His voice is low, almost rough. He steps closer, his hands framing my face with surprising gentleness, thumbs brushing just beneath my eyes. “I can feel it. Your heartbeat, your fear. It’s bleeding through the bond like it’s my own.” His eyes flicker, wolf-bright for a heartbeat. “I hate that I’m sending you in there like this.”
He leans in until his forehead nearly touches mine. “But I’ll be there. Every second. If anything goes wrong, anything at all, you get out. No heroics. No trying to save the day. You shift and run. Do you understand?”
His words settle deep, the steadiness in his voice anchoring the chaos in my chest. It isn’t a command. It’s a promise.
I want to argue, to tell him I won’t leave him if things fall apart. The words burn on my tongue, sharp and ready. But through the bond I feel it. The tight coil beneath his skin, the dread he’s hiding under that calm voice. It presses against my chest, heavy and alive, not mine but his.
And I see it too. In the way his eyes burn, in the way his jaw clenches as if he’s holding himself back from pulling me against him and refusing to let me go. The wolf inside him is pacing, furious and afraid, and I can taste it in the back of my throat.
The intensity in his eyes stops me. It’s too raw, too honest. Instead of fighting him, I swallow the words and lift my chin. I force a smile, small and wry, trying to lighten the mood even as my stomach twists.
“Don’t worry so much. I’ll be fine. I took self-defense in high school,” I say, forcing a grin. “Pretty sure I still remember how to knee someone where it counts.”
