Page 63 of Vengeful King

Lachlan

She’s so quiet when she thanks me that I almost don’t hear it. But herthank yousticks in my mind as I follow her out of the facility.

I could see the similarities when we first walked into her mother’s room. They had the same look about them. The only difference was the openness in the woman’s eyes, a kindness where Katrina was guarded and stoic.

It’s almost as if the roles have reversed, parent and child.

I find myself glancing at Katrina on the drive back. Seeing her with her mother was…different. Something about her wasn’t grounded to me before. She was almost too good, too perfect. I didn’t think about her outside of the club or my house.

Now I know. Watching her interact with her mother gave me perspective. I feel like I know more about her now, like this was a window into her life.

And I can sense not many people get to look through this window.

I respect that. I’m private not just by necessity but by design, and I know how uncomfortable it can be to have someone so close to something so private.

It reminds me of my mother and of Rose, my brother Aiden’s wife. Rose was in my position at one point. She was there when our mother declined, when we had to make the decision to let her go. It wasn’t easy. It hurt my brother Finn, and it hurt me like hell, too.

It was a shit time.

I know the grief Katrina is living with, in a way. My own mother was comatose for years, unresponsive after the loss of my father. I would visit her with my brothers, but the real pain came from visits alone. Those were the truly empty ones, the ones that sobered me.

I knew every time I visited could be the last. I knew her condition was bad, and keeping her on machines would only last so long. There was no way I could keep lying to myself or my brothers.

In the end, when the time came, I was almost relieved. I knew my mother wasn’t really there anymore, that she would want to be with my father. I knew it was my feelings, my brothers’ feelings, that were keeping her tethered. We just didn’t want to let her go.

Looking at Katrina, I know what she’s feeling—she’s feeling the loss of someone before they’re even really gone. It’s a years-long death, a painful goodbye that fools you into hoping until one day, you just can’t afford to hope anymore.

I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

The losses of my father and mother changed me. I wasn’t just forced to handle the family business and affairs too soon; I was also struck by how many experiences I didn’t get to have, things I was never able to say. I know I shut down, that it was part of the reason I truly gave up on having a relationship.

After all, if my parents died so young, why would I believe I could have a happy ending?

I almost say something. I almost tell Katrina,I know how you feel.But I don’t. I hold my tongue and my secrets inside, even as I remember the ache of loss and how alone I felt at the time.

I don’t want to share too much with her. I don’t want to let this slip, give her something to latch onto. Something formeto latch onto.

She’s already too deep under my skin. I know that; I’ve felt it since I touched her, since I crossed the line. It’s inescapable. I did something I can’t take back. I let her in. But I don’t want to let her in even more, let her know something about me. Something private.

I don’t want her to see even more of who I am.

I can’t risk showing her any more of me, as much as I’m getting the urge to. So I stay silent on the way home and try not to think about the silent pain in her posture, the loss in her eyes as she gazes out the window.

I try not to wonder if she’s remembering better days with her mother.

When we’re home, she’s still silent. I lock the door and can’t think of what to say that wouldn’t sound inappropriate. It feels like leaving a funeral.

But I don’t have a chance to say anything. My phone buzzes and there’s a message from Aiden. I shift, settling into my business mind, trying to focus.

We’re meeting with Ezra to talk about the merger,it says.Hash out wedding details.

I stare at the wordwedding,and then I clench my hand around my phone. “Shit.”

I forgot all about the meeting. No doubt Aiden’s message was an uncertain prodding, him trying to figure out why I hadn’t reached out yet. After all, I’m the one getting married.

But I’m here forgetting my own wedding.

I can’t ignore this meeting; it’s not an option. But I’m not sure how Katrina is feeling. Having just seen her mother, I don’t know if she’ll take a risk to escape or do something equally stupid. Maybe she’ll take my absence as an opportunity to try to run.

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