38. Ash

Chapter Thirty-Eight

ASH

Two Weeks Later…

“ I t was a good move,” Anna said, rounding the metal table, her voice bouncing off the silver-panelled walls, “bargaining your father’s secrets with Interpol.”

Unlike ordinary police rooms, there was no camera, nor a big two-way mirror lining the walls. I could not be confident that there was not some listening device planted somewhere, but it was nice as far as interrogation rooms went.

“I could not keep running from them forever,” I mused, picking at the skin around my nails. “A dam is bound to break eventually. Better to be on my terms than theirs.”

Anna nodded, pulling out the steel chair on the opposite side of the table. She rested a red briefcase by her bloodred dress shoes. Her lawyer attire toed the line of business casual, with a black satin suit and a sinfully red blouse with lace and diamonds studding the collar. As always, she was the beautiful demon, ready to make a devil’s deal to save her client.

Her baby blue eyes, cool and calm, roamed over me from head to toe before settling on the white bandage plastered at the top of my arm. “Are they giving you proper medical care?” she asked, red nails rippling over the steel surface.

I did not look at my arm. The small sting where my father’s final bullet had nicked my skin was healing nicely. “The doctors said that it is not likely to leave a scar,” I mused, feeling the small smile pull on my lips. When the doctors had said I was lucky this time, I could not disagree. My father’s final parting gift to me had missed, and there would not even be a mark to show for it. Even though I would be left with all the marks he had made before, the scars I would never be able to erase, it felt sweet knowing I had never let him mar me again.

“Good,” Anna sighed, reaching down to unzip her briefcase and pulling loose a thick stack of papers. “I only represent the club for free,” she began, unfurling folders, and files, and clipped sheets.

“I know,” I said, watching her nest herself. “I did not call you to represent me.” I had been able to use one phone call for legal aid, and calling her had been my only thought. But it was not to ask for her to be my lawyer. It was to see her again. One last time.

Anna paused, her fingers pressed flat over her growing pile. A manicured blonde brow crooked in my direction, her eyes demanding an explanation.

“I just thought this might be my only chance,” I explained, my eyes searching hers. The familiar blue that transformed like the sky; I had seen them stormy and raging, had seen them sad and raining, and more importantly, had seen them clear and bright. I would miss them. “I wanted to tell you that, once all of this is done, I will fix things. Between us, I mean. Even if things will never be the same as they once were.”

Anna’s blue eyes were still. No weather roiled in their depths, but something shifted, something I could not piece together. Something strange and new. “You’re aware you’re looking at years , right?”

“I know.”

When I reached out to Interpol and informed them of my name, my whereabouts, and my plans to hand over both Maximus Rothwell and all the information on his estate and operations, as well as myself, I had expected this.

Lamb had wanted to use the FBI. He would turn over the information he had gathered from his old contact on Maximus’ estates in exchange for asylum for me and Maximus’ permanent arrest. Time had been of the essence, and rather than letting a slow case build, we had to use the party and the conflict between us to pressure them to move and seize an opportunity while they had one. Even orchestrating Lamb’s betrayal had been to lure Maximus to attack and catch him in the act.

But my plans were different.

Contacting Interpol would guarantee my arrest and my extradition back to the United Kingdom where I would be tried and charged with my stepmother’s murder. Lamb would never allow it, but I knew there was no point in removing my father if my stepmother’s ghost would still haunt me. This was what needed to happen. Even if it was not how Lamb, nor I, wanted it to go down.

“It is worthwhile,” I said, my resolve still firm in my chest as I looked at her. “For a clean slate.”

Anna calculated my response. I saw it moving in her mind the way Lamb’s often would. They were alike, the two of them, more than either would care to admit.

It seemed I had a type.

“And killing him?” Anna did not look up. Her blonde hair fell in longer strands around her face as she pulled loose a pen and pursed it between her lips, eyes scanning over a page in front of her.

When I had killed Maximus, I had not felt relief or peace. I had felt joy. A tremendous, euphoric bliss had possessed me. I had been satisfied and happy as my bullet had hit home and he had dropped to the floor. Even if I had not been able to confirm it at first, I knew I had done it. Knew I had killed him.

Sometimes it takes a monster to kill a monster.

I was okay with that. Rather than having been the weak victim I had been all my life, what I had gained from killing my tormentors made me feel strong. Made me powerful.

“It was an accident,” I half-lied. “Self-defence.”

Anna glanced up at me, her eyes flickering between each of mine. No weather roiled in response to my deception, even as she saw straight through it.

Anna nodded, her pen making fast, sharp scratches against the paper, the noise filling the room for a few long, pregnant moments.

“And Lamb?” Anna finally spoke up. Her gaze had hardened now, and I was not looking at my old best friend, but instead, I saw the mother of the club. The queen of her domain.

I paused, feeling a knot tighten in my chest for the first time since Anna had walked in.

“I know I may not come out of this,” I breathed, thinking about those deep hazel eyes and the pained burning that stirred in my chest. “But If I go back to him,” I breathed, dodging saying his name, knowing the weight that would sit on my tongue and the pain it took to swallow it back, “I want to live without a fake name or identity. I do not want to have to hide or to run. I want to move on. I want to be happy. I want to be me. ”

It was an indirect answer. But it was honest. If I thought too hard about what I had done to Lamb, what this betrayal had meant for him, my resolve would crack. And if I broke down at the first hurdle, I was not sure how I could cope for the years to come. I was to be tried for murder, and I would not be coming back. Not for a long time. All I could do was what I thought was best, and pray that when I returned, Lamb would be ready to listen to me. Even if he would not wait for me, I understood.

This was my war to fight.

And I would come back victorious.

“Well then, we’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through,” Anna groaned, clicking her pen with an echoing snap, “if we’re gonna shave a few of those years off.”

Confusion riddled my thoughts. I thought the papers had been a guise for my fake phone call, but now that I was looking, I saw all the details of my case splayed across the table.

“Wait. You are going to represent me? But I am not club.”

“No, you’re not,” Anna agreed, her pen pausing, eyes hovering on the edge of the paper, a fight to not let them rise fluttering over her face. “You’ll just have to pay my fees in full.”

Emotions heavier and thicker than any I had experienced before threatened to suffocate me. This was not forgiveness, nor did it fix any of our past.

But it was a start.

Anna looked up, her blue eyes sharp, and her pen poised and ready.

“Let’s get started.”