Page 74 of Even Robots Die (Even Ever After #3)

Florentine

W aking up after such a tough night is hard. Especially when I know what’s coming today.

The only thing making it better is the hand on my cheek, slowly stroking me awake.

“Good morning, Furious,” Brice says with his lips at my forehead before depositing a small kiss there.

“Why is it so late?” I ask him.

I know my sentence doesn’t make complete sense and that what I was meaning is that we should have been awake for hours already, even if my groggy mind thinks we actually need more sleep.

I feel Brice tense under me with his hand still at my cheek.

“Spill it,” I say with a sigh. I know I’m not going to like whatever he’s about to tell me, but I need to know in case I need to recalibrate the plan.

“We have until two this afternoon to start your plan,” he says.

“And?” I ask, because surely there is more to it. We couldn’t have ‘won’ more time just like that. Something isn’t adding up.

“But your Dad had to lose one of his fingers to buy us that time …” he says with a wince .

I can’t see it from where I’m nestled against his chest, but I feel it against my forehead.

I take a second to carefully answer what he just said.

“Do you mean he willingly gave up one of his fingers to buy us some time?” I ask as I tip my face up so I can look him in the eyes.

“No, Furious, it was sent in the middle of the night saying that the three days they gave us were over and that if you didn’t come to them in the next twelve hours, they would send another part of him,” he tells me softly as if waiting to see how I’m going to react.

Fuck.

I messed up.

And now they’re torturing Dad. I knew it was a high possibility while he was in the birds’ hands, but this—being sent one of his fingers—makes it a lot more real now.

I’ve been preparing for something big, but preparing myself and being faced with the situation are two different things, and it’s made all the more visible right now.

“I should have gone yesterday. It’s all my fault.”

He tries to stop me from talking, obviously having arguments to deny what I just said, but I don’t let him.

“You said it yourself, Mister Big Bad Bat, I’m a genius. I should have seen that coming. I didn’t do the right math, and it’s on me.”

I’ll have to live with the fact Dad lost a finger because of me.

“You didn’t cut that finger,” Brice says, as if he can read my mind. “It’s not your fault.”

“He’s there because they want me . How can you say it’s not my fault?” I argue.

“He’s there because they want you. It’s not on you, it’s on them.

I don’t remember you blaming yourself the same way when I was the one holding your father against his will.

You were very much mad at me. As you should have been.

This is the same. Be mad at them, not at yourself.

You’re doing everything you can to make things better.

You’re only human. You can’t see everything coming, you can’t be everywhere and save everyone.

Especially when the someone you’re trying to save wasn’t really willing to save himself in the first place, or would easily trade you to save himself. ”

I glare at him at that last sentence.

“You know I’m right,” he adds. “Your dad knew what I was doing when I kidnapped him. Maybe not at first, but I explained everything to him and he was all too happy to let me lure you here because he knew I would pay you well for your work.”

He pauses.

“The money is already in the accounts you asked for, by the way.”

He slips his right hand to the side of my throat, his thumb right under my chin so I can’t escape his gaze.

“Can you really tell me that your dad wouldn’t give up a finger if he knew the birds would pay you a million euros?”

I’m dumbstruck.

A few seconds pass.

Would he?

If he has a way to be sure that they won’t hurt me, he might. Maybe. I’m not sure.

I sigh.

“Not if he knows there’s a risk they would hurt me,” I tell him. I’m sure of this, but the fact I took my time to answer is damning and Brice knows it. He has the good taste not to remark on it.

He doesn’t need to, though, because I see what he meant and weirdly, it helps. My heart feels less heavy.

I won’t change my mind about the fact I messed up. I should have known we only had seventy-hours, not three full days and not a single extra hour, but I can understand what Brice is saying.

It’s my fault, but it’s not just my fault.

It’s my father’s fault because without any of his shenanigans, he wouldn’t have served himself on a silver platter to the birds and we wouldn’t need to save his ass.

It’s the birds’ fault. This one doesn’t need any explanation .

I can still think I’m at fault and want to make things better.

I can’t throw a pity party if I want to annihilate the birds, though.

“There it is,” Brice says when he sees the resolve in my eyes. “Burn them to the ground. I’ll be right by your side.”