Page 130 of Roses Are Dead
And deliver him to Carl? Never.
He must have seen my denial as I thought it. “I love you. Beth loves you. Don’t do this.”
“Carl…needs to die.” After his last shot.
“We’ll do that, together. Us. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Why did he have to say it that way? It was too close to the argument Carl used to manipulate me.
“You don’t have to do this at all. Vow or otherwise, it’s not your battle.”
His lips turned white as he held in whatever he was thinking. His hoarse whisper hurt. “But I love you.”
“Beth loved me first. She didn’t have to. She could have given up on me like everyone else. It cost her a lot to stick by me when everyone thought I was evil and shipped me off to be a ward of the state. And I owe her for that.” I motioned to the distance between Bear and me. “This thing with us, it was always supposed to be temporary. Don’t you see? Carl knew your weaknesses. He knows mine. He understood all along that the best way to torture us both was to let us be together.” It was so clear in hindsight. The worst way he could have hurt me was by giving me hope.
Not just hope, what I always wanted. Love, a home, friends, acceptance. I dug into my backpack and pulled out the stack of money I’d stolen. I’d planned to use it to placate Carl temporarily, but Bear needed it more.
“Here. There’s twenty thousand, five hundred and eighty-five dollars in this bundle. I’ve counted it at least a dozen times. You can keep it or give it to Wolf. It’s Carl’s so, technically, you’ve been paid off.”
He stared at my hand. “I don’t want the money, I want you… I want you safe, Rose. Not stupidly walking right into a psychopath’s trap. Please? If not for me, do it for Beth.”
“I’m doing this for you and for Beth. And for everyone Carl could target around your club. Do you think Zoe and Fish were the end of it? He’s just getting started. If I don’t go back, someone else will die. But if I leave? That all stops. Don’t you see that?
“No one is going to miss me. No one ever has. Not my parents, not the foster system, not even my jobs. I’m completely replaceable. But in this, I make up for a lifetime of anger.” I set the cash down on his altar and continued to counter the arguments written on his face.
“You’re not replaceable. Your friends, they need your leadership. You can always get another woman to warm your bed or play backpack. But you need to live. Beth needs to live. She’s got kids. A husband, a life that needs her.” I broke down, unable to continue. The things she had, I envied them. I wanted at least one person to need me.
But even if Bear wanted me, he truly didn’t need me. In that, Carl actually had him beat. Carl needed an outlet for his madness. I served that end well. And maybe in doing so, I could do one small thing to help an innocent mother with everything to live for. Beth was a gentle soul who’d proven over and over again that she was the best of us. Her children shouldn’t have to suffer or be alone. Not when there was an obvious solution.
Bear’s shoulders drooped as he stared at the pile of cash next to his figurine of Thor. “You’re not replaceable. You are a warrior-goddess, a spark—the fires of midsummer when the night is darkest. You’re my North Star, Rose.”
“Then trust me. If I’m all that, I’ll survive this, maybe even triumph.” Even if I didn’t have hope, I could give it away.
Yet, given so falsely, it was worthless. And Bear saw through me.
“Even if you did survive, would you be the same? Do you think Carl would let you just come back? He wants you broken.”
I didn’t reply. I wouldn’t lie to him.
He sighed. “You’re right. I can’t tell you what to do. It’s fucking useless trying to change your mind. You’re twisted, Rose. Carl did that to you, and you’re blind that you can’t see it.” He swallowed and straightened to his full height. “I have pride. I’m a warrior. And you’ve disarmed me.”
He laid a hand on Thor. “I vow?—”
“Don’t,” I warned him not to make foolish vows.
He glared at me. “I vow, by my Gods, if you walk away from me to help Carl, you will be my enemy. Just like he is my enemy.”
So mote it be. I didn’t plan on helping him. I planned to kill him.
I tore the besom from its hook above the door. As it swung down, I brushed the threshold with the tips, wiping away all traces of the protection spell I’d put on the house as my home.
Tingles started down my arm. In the backswing, I whispered a blessing. One on his house, his life, his friends, and anyone who crossed over the step of his home in peace.
The final stroke, a magical number in the third position, I cursed any being who would try to harm him, and him alone. The bristles of my broom stilled and I dropped it in place.
Even if the door hung open forever, nothing would cross that boundary without feeling my curse clinging to its essence.
Bear must have sensed the spell because he didn’t cross the threshold. But he watched me walk away. His eyes followed my progress until I turned right at the end of his street and continued my journey.
