Page 57 of I (One) (War of Roses 3)

Chapter 19

Of all the places in the world, a cold, foreboding fortress should be the last one would expect to find children shrieking through the winding corridors, chased by a specter whom I can only discern from their giggles is the worst kind of monster.

The kind whose identity is alarmingly easy to suspect as I rise from my bed and get dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting top.

I leave my room only to be nearly run over by Mouse. Grinning, she skirts past me and rounds a corner. Not far behind is Eli, cackling madly. Bringing up the rear is a stranger. A care-free laugh booms from his chest as he moves slowly, ensuring that every footstep echoes like thunder.

“I can hear you,” he growls as the children scatter deeper into the house. “You better run—”

His wicked grin falls flat the moment he spots me, and the illusion is shattered.

“Rose.” Drawing himself to his full height, Mischa inclines his head toward my room, a subtle command.We need to talk.

After everything he’s put me through, I should run. I start to, but he’s beside me in a second. His fingers interlace with mine, locking tight when I try to wrench away. He all but shoves me into my room before quietly closing the door.

“As much as you love to play the victim, I won’t let you this time,” he warns. “You can hate me if you want. But don’t you dare skulk around like a fucking prisoner—”

“Then how should I act after having my personal drama exposed to your fucking society?” I ask, jutting my chin into the air. “You tell me.”

He chuckles under his breath. “Like this,” he admits. I shudder as he brushes his hand down my shoulder. I was on guard for violence—not this. “A haughty little bitch. One who may have a point—”

“A point? Maybe I should lead by example?” I suggest, shrugging him off. “I’ll share my own little secret in private, without an audience.”

“Oh?” He cocks his head as his expression darkens. “Let me guess: Robert Winthorp still has your soul and it was never really mine to claim? A bit anticlimactic, Rose, but not entirely unexpected—”

“No.” Balling my hands into fists is the only way I can keep from hitting him. “I… I think I’m pregnant.”

He blinks and that mask he wears so doggedly around me cracks. “Are you sure?” His gaze lowers to my stomach. “Is it mine?”

I slap him—but his question didn’t trigger the action. It’s how he asked it. Hesitant and coarse, as if he wasn’t sure of the answer.

And, for once, his confusion isn’t played as a joke.

“Who else’s would it be?”

He frowns and I understand.

“Fine.” I throw my hands into the air, forcing a cold laugh. “It’s Robert’s. I threw myself at him after being dragged back into my old cage. Does that make you feel better? Now, you have three pieces of ‘leverage’ to use against him—”

“Stop it.” He grabs my arm, but the touch lacks any malice. He merely uses the limb as a leash, keeping me close. “Tell me.”

“Does it matter to you so much?” I demand, exasperated.

“Maybe I just need to hear you say it?” His voice deepens, radiating a warning. “Is it mine?”

“Forget it.” I shake my head and laugh again. I sound insane. Maybe I am. He’s finally driven me past the brink. “Forget all of it. It’s not like someone like you could ever be a father anyway.”

He recoils. “And what kind of woman would willfully deny her child one?” His voice chases me as I lunge for the door and throw it open. “A selfish bitch, though why am I surprised?”

“Don’t,” I whisper hoarsely as my steps falter in the doorway. “Don’t you dare.”

I brush my hand against my chest, a weak protection against an impending assault.

Like any wolf, he doesn’t just bite.

He aims to maim.

“It’s in your blood,” he hisses. “Like mother like daughter.”

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