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Brodie holds up the book, shaking it gently. “This journal belonged to Lachlan’s ancestor. I found it when we did the renovations for the auld wing. It was inside a false bit of a wall that hadn’t burned.”

Key looks at me then, noticing that I’m conscious, her eyes rounding. I try to convey with my eyes not to do anything hasty, giving a barely there shake of my head. She rips her gaze from mine to look back to Brodie.

“You had that all this time?”

Brodie nods. “That’s why I came here.” He walks over to me, giving me a disgusted look as he crouches down next to me. He tips the massive knife up until it rests underneath my chin, ignoring Key’s sharp sound of protest. “This book explains everything that his awful family did to ours. It talks about how they finally got theirs—cursed by a kelpie witch they’d taken advantage of. She made them into the monsters they’ve always been.”

“Brodie,” Key says placatingly. “That sounds insane.”

“Doesn’t it?” Brodie smiles, but it’s a cruel caricature of one. “I thought maybe it was too…but then I saw it for myself.”

“You’re…mental,” I manage, my tongue still feeling too thick.

Brodie shakes his head. “And you aren’t as careful as you think you are. What? Did you think you’d use my family again? Take advantage of my cousin? I bet you thought she’d lead you right to the bridle. Didn’t you.”

My mouth parts in surprise, and Brodie laughs.

“See? I have you all figured out. I knew what you were up to the minute you started cozying up to Keyanna. You took advantage of her desperation to know more about her family.”

“Brodie,” Key protests. “That isn’t—”

“Key,” Brodie sighs, standing once more. “I know you care about him, but you have to understand…He doesn’t give a damn about you. He’susingyou.”

“No, that’s not—”

She catches my eye again, and I give her another subtle shake of my head. I don’t want her to reveal any more than she has to. We don’t know how Brodie will react if he finds out that Keyanna knows a lot more than he seems to think that she does. Especially since we still don’t know exactly what he wants.

“Why’re you doing this?” I ask hoarsely, feeling a bit stronger with every passing second, but not enough that I can break free.

“Why?” Brodie laughs again, but there’s no humor in it. “Because if I get my hands on that bridle, then everything changes.” He glares at me then. “You know, it feels a bit like poetic justice thatyou’rethe bastard using my family again. My da always thought you were the perfect son, did you know? Used to tell your da over andoveragain that he wished I was more like you.” He lets out another bitter laugh. “But he didn’t stop there, no, he came home and toldmethe same things. ‘Why can’t you be more like Callum’s boy?’ he’d say, or ‘If you were a bit more like Lachlan, maybe you wouldn’t act so daft all the time.’ ” He shakes his head. “My personal favorite, however, is when he came home one night after drinking with your da, telling meallabout how he wishes he could just trade us out. How mucheasierit would have been if you were his instead of me.” Brodie takes a shuddering breath, his fists clenching as his neck flushes with anger. “Once I have the bridle, my da won’t treat me like a nobody anymore, and my brothers will respect me too.” He turns back to Key. “I can be whatever I want to be! I’ll make those bastards at the historicalsociety pay for letting me go—” I meet Key’s gaze, and her wide eyes say this is news to her too. “Money…power…respect…I can haveallof it.No onewill make me feel like I’m worthlesseveragain.”

“What do you mean the society let you go?”

He scowls. “I saw the monster once before. Earlier this year. I couldn’t be sure it washim”—he casts an irritated look my way—“but Isawit. I wrote a paper on my findings, using the journal as a way to validate things, but theylaughedat me. Said I was losing touch. That I was confusing fiction with reality. Can you believe that?”

He’s waving the knife around wildly now, and when Key’s eyes meet mine, I give still another shake of my head, trying to convey to her that she needs to be careful. At least until I can get free.

“That must have been…hard,” Key says. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasbollocksis what it was,” Brodie seethes. “I saw it with my own eyes, and theylaughed.So I did what anyone would do—I tried to go over their heads. Took my findings to the papers. But, as it turns out, the editor there is a personal friend of my boss, and all it took was one worried phone call for my sanity to have the entire board decide I needed to be onadministrative leavewhile theydeliberateon what to do with me.” He spits at his feet. “Fancy way of saying they were kicking me to the curb.”

“So you’re here for proof,” she ventures.

Brodie nods. “Aye. And I’ll have it. Once I get the bridleandhave photo evidence of Lachlan changing? They’llhaveto believe me.”

“Brodie,” Key says gently. “This isn’t the way. This isn’t you. You’re actuallyhurtingpeople.”

“He’s not people,” Brodie practically spits. “He’s been using our entire family. Rhona, Finlay,you—all just a means to an end. All just part of his own selfish agenda. He’s no better than the long line ofbastards he came from. He’s just like my da. People are only as good as what they candofor him.”

I wince. Clearly this is a case of daddy issues that might get me killed. I start working my wrists behind my back, trying to ease my hands out of my restraints subtly as Brodie continues to rant.

“I know you found Tavish’s journal, Key,” he says. “I saw you leave Lachlan’s place with it. So I know you both know where the bridle is. I really wanted to keep you out of this, but that’s not an option now. Tell me where it is.”

“Brodie, this isn’t—”

“Don’t be daft, Key,” he grinds out. “You’re being dense all because this arsehole has wooed you. Think about it. With the bridle, we could doanything. Maybe…maybe we could even bring back your da.”

I hear her breath catch, her lips parting and her brows shooting up into her hair. Everything inside me says that there’s no way that’s true—there’s no magic in the world powerful enough to bring back the long-dead. But still I see the flash of yearning in her eyes, and I can’t say that I blame her.