Page 68 of The Thief
"He's not just targeting her because she's Henry's granddaughter. He's developed a personal fixation; keeps photos of her, talks about her constantly. Sullivan thinks Trace sees her as some kind of prize."
Stephen's face hardens. "Sick bastard."
"Gets worse. Apparently, Trace has been planning to take her alive and use her to break Henry's spirit before killing them both."
"Over my dead body."
"That might be exactly what happens if we're not careful."
We sit in silence, both thinking about tomorrow night. About the violence that's coming, about the people we might lose. About a blue-eyed girl who never asked to be the center of this war.
I finish my drink, feeling the whiskey burn away some of the self-recrimination. "I need to go back."
"To Henry's?"
"To Alastríona. Make sure she's safe; make sure she understands what's coming tomorrow."
"And make sure she forgives you for being an impatient bastard?"
"That too."
Stephen walks me to the door. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. The girl's good for you. First time I've seen you care about something other than revenge since Ava died."
"Dangerous territory."
"Best things usually are."
He claps me on the shoulder. "Bring her to my house tomorrow morning. Jessica's been wanting to meet her, and it'll be safer than Henry's if things go sideways."
"Thanks."
"Just remember, if this war has taught us anything, it's that life's too short to waste on what-ifs. You want her? Fight for her."
The gates to Henry's estate are closed, security patrol making their rounds with military precision. I park across the street, watch the house for signs of unusual activity. Everything looks normal, peaceful. Like a war isn't being planned within those walls.
I call the security chief, get clearance to enter, and walk up the long driveway like I belong here, like I'm not sneaking around to see a woman who might not want to see me.
The house is dark except for a few security lights and the soft glow from the blue room's window. Her room. Where she's probably lying awake thinking about what happened between us.
Getting inside is easy. Henry's given me access codes for emergencies, and this feels like one. I move through his halls like a ghost, up the stairs, down the corridor, to the door that separates me from whatever comes next.
I knock softly. "Alastríona?"
Silence. Maybe she's asleep, maybe she's ignoring me. Can't blame her either way.
"It's me. Freddie."
Footsteps. The door opens a crack, revealing one blue eye and a mess of dark hair.
"It's late," she says.
"I know. I needed to see you."
"Why?"
"Because I'm an idiot who pushed too hard tonight. Because I wanted to apologize."
She opens the door wider. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt that hits mid-thigh, feet bare, reminding me that she's still young. She's only eighteen.
